It's like sleep to me now. Someday soon, I will slip into unconscious sleep and I won't wake up, that's all. No big deal. Except I have to leave all earthly pleasures behind, and earthly people. That's the hard part. Is there anything more to say? Or do? How many times can I tell my family that I love them before they let me go? I feel Jeff holding onto me with every bit of force he can. I know he prays constantly for a miracle. But he's just keeping me here, not letting me go.
I think of my parents and how they died young. They had worked hard, seven days a week and holidays, at that deli. My father had been so proud of it when he had finally purchased it. They had seemed bewildered but pleased when I married Jeff. It had just been the three of us for so long. I knew there was always sadness at my leaving behind my mother’s smiles. Jeff and I had offered to have them live with us but they had refused, instead opting to keep the small rooms above the deli as they had for years. They died soon after I left, Father of a heart attack and Mother of … they were never quite sure what: loneliness? I had tried to get her to sell the deli after Father died, and again she had refused. When it was all over, I didn't go back down there for a few years, not until after Greg was born. The change in the old neighbourhood was so shocking to me that I made a promise to myself that I would be faithful to the places in New York that I knew and loved. I wouldn't neglect them and I would go and visit them on a regular basis.
It became like a game when Greg got into photography, fun to look through the lens and try and catch the small, subtle changes. A building going up over a period of months, the signs on a movie marquee changing.
Oh how I love this city, how I have always loved it. I wonder if this will be my last winter here, or if I might be able to keep our yearly appointment, the promise we made.
53
Greg was on a mission. After waking up late that morning he’d got a text from Karen telling him that she’d be stopping by to pick up some of her things.
As a result, he’d decided to head over to Park Avenue; he didn’t want to be there when she came back. He understood that he would have to face her eventually, and even have an adult conversation with her, considering they would have to figure out what to do with many of their shared possessions in the townhouse.
He replied saying that she should feel free to let herself in, and that he wouldn’t be here.
Greg wondered briefly where Karen was going to live or where she was going to stay until she was able to figure out something more permanent. And then he realised that he didn’t care. She could hole up at the Plaza with ‘Jack’ for the rest of her life. At this point, Karen and her affairs were no longer his business.
Still, he couldn’t believe that his entire world had changed in barely forty-eight hours. Karen had been such a big part of his life and now she was gone – just like that. And all because of money, it seemed. Because she was afraid he wouldn't be able to support them in the way she had been accustomed too.
Greg tried to put himself in Karen’s shoes and think of how he would feel if she had suddenly changed careers, suddenly announced she wanted to join the Peace Corps or something. Unlikely, he thought, smiling. Even so, he knew for sure he’d have supported her, had always supported her in anything she’d done.
Is this what he had to be on the look-out for now? he wondered. Women who were only interested in him for his money? Although, he reminded himself, there wasn’t much of that any more.
Another fresh start, he thought ruefully, as he closed his front door behind him and took the bike out onto to the street. Sometimes you needed to be careful what you wished for.
He arrived quickly, and said hello to the building’s doorman, Conor, a veritable fixture of the building itself. Going up in the elevator, he let himself in to the penthouse and found his father in the kitchen with Maria.
‘Good morning guys.’
‘Oh Greg, I’m just so sorry to hear about … ’ Maria said, approaching him and giving him a hug. He accepted the embrace, somewhat uncomfortably. Even though he knew her well, it was still slightly embarrassing having other people know that you had been dumped. Especially after such a dramatic and public proposal.
‘It’s OK Maria, thanks. I’ll be fine.’
She looked up at him, a mischievous smile on her face. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I could arrange to have her taken care of? Us Puerto Ricans, we don’t mess around, and I have a cousin who—’
Greg laughed for the first time since Christmas Day. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think that will be necessary.’
‘Well, don’t say I never offered to do anything for you.’
Greg turned his attention to his father. ‘I thought I’d come over – Karen’s coming round for some of her things later and I didn’t want to be there.’ He reached into his pocket. ‘And I brought Nonna’s ring back,’ he said sadly. ‘I guess I’ll put it back in Mom’s jewellery box.’
‘For a while at least – until you need it again,’ his father added kindly, but Greg figured it would be some time before he’d be looking to use the ring again, if ever.
‘Has the charm bracelet turned up yet?’ he asked, the mention of the jewellery box reminding him about it.
‘No, we’ve searched high and low for it by now, haven’t we, Maria?’ Jeff confirmed.
‘Well, I might as well take a look around myself while I’m in there.’
His mother’s plush walk-in closet was one of those places that lived in the dreams of most women, but for his lucky mother, was a reality.
Reaching out to touch the delicate fabrics, Greg couldn’t help but reflect on the memories associated with each piece of clothing.
The pretty floral dress she had worn at his college graduation, and the deep red silk two-piece she’d had on that night at Gennaro’s gallery when his photograph of the Flatiron had been on display. Or the time she had sat reading a book out on the veranda in this pale violet cardigan. Greg felt in its pocket and pulled out some crinkled-up Kleenex, seemingly nothing but a scrap of trash, but he knew that his mother had probably used it to dry her eyes after reading a particularly heart-wrenching passage in a novel. He held the crumpled tissue in his hand and felt a lump form in his throat.
Placing the cardigan back on the hanger, he threw the tissue away in a nearby wastepaper basket.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I know you didn’t lose it, Mom. I know youwouldn’tlose it. This bracelet was your whole life – hell, it had your whole life on it. So what on earth did you do with it?’
