Ivy's Twisted Vine Redux (39 page)

Excited beyond her own expectations, she ran down the steps, grabbed him Nicola her arms and kissed him on his cheek. Dropping his bags on the ground, he picked her up and whirled her around. Her blue eyes stared through his own as if she was searching through his soul and her long nails rushed through his hair.

“Thank God you are finally home, Nico.” Her smile was luminous and yet fragile.

“Ma, I’ve missed you so much,” he said beholding her beauty once again, even noticing small lines in her face that he swore were not there before and the awesome streaks of bold silver in her hair. Was it possible for his elegant mother to be aging?

“Oh, I’ve missed you, too. Come on. Let’s get you into the house and out of this heat.” Grabbing one of his bags, she turned on her heals and headed for the house.
“Ma, I’ve got that.” Nicola tried to take the bag away.

“Nonsense.” She pulled away. “I’m not made of glass.” Climbing the stairs, she was met at the door by Delmin, the family butler.

“How are you doing Mr. Del?” Nicola said greeting his old friend with a big hug and smile.

“Good, Nic and yourself?” Delmin said taking his bags.

“Oh, I will be better now.”

“Well, I will leave you to get reacquainted. Do you need anything at all, sir?”

“No, I’m great.” Looking around the large marble entryway, Nicola realized that absolutely nothing had changed since he had gone away. “So where is everyone?”

“Honey, we are old now. There is no
everyone
…just your father and I. And he is away on business. He won’t arrive from Paris until later this evening.”

“He’s still running like a race horse, huh?” Every since Nicola was a boy the most vivid memories he had of his father where of him working tirelessly around the clock.

“I don’t know. As he gets older, he talks more and more of Italy. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that he wants to move back there before it is all over. You know, my mother missed Ireland that way.” She drifted off in her thoughts for a moment and then sighed. “Until the day she died she always talked about it.”

Walking beside his mother through the long foyer embellished with stained glass windows, beautiful Victorian art and black marble floors, he suddenly wished for a more simple life again.

“It’s good to be home, Ma.” His voice was somber again.

“It’s good to have you home,” she said holding his hand. She was well aware of his sadness. It was a natural instinct that mothers possessed. Changing the subject as they entered the family room, she tried to revive his spirits. “So, is there a special woman anywhere around?” She always longed for her son to fall in love again.
“It would be just up your alley if there was,” Nicola said playfully. “Yeah, I think there is someone special, but she is just a friend.”

“Do I finally smell a relationship in the air?”

“We don’t have a
relationship,
ma. We have more of an understanding.”

“What is there to understand if she is special? Besides, friends make the best wives. I was your father’s friend for several months before we began to court. Now, nearly forty years later look at us. We are still in love.” She smiled at the thought of her husband.

“That’s old world love. Things are different now. Besides that, I doubt if I’ll be marrying her.”

“Why is that?”

Nicola thought about what he was about to say for a moment. Did he really want to tell all to his mother? She was such a delicate soul. Besides, she was the only woman in his life that still regarded him as an innocent. Why would he ruin such a wonderful feeling by revealing the real Nicola, a man of many women and secrets?

“Well, she would have to want to marry me.” He smiled at her.

“Any woman in her right mind would want to marry you. You’re beautiful, smart, and rich. You’re what they call the perfect catch, Nicola.”

“Ma, I’m not rich.” Nicola sat down in his favorite brown leather recliner and relaxed. “You and dad are rich. I’m a workingman. A cop for goodness sake.” He chuckled. “On that type of salary, I’ll never be rich.”

“But one day, we’ll die, and you’ll inherit our entire fortune.
Well, you and your brother.
And you boys couldn’t spend that much money in two lifetimes. And what about the Christmas and birthday package we give to you and your brother every year.” His mother was extremely proud of their fortune and how well her husband had done as a poor immigrant in the United States.

“Well for now, I am a working man. And I am in no rush to have you or pop die so that you can leave me anything. Thanks, but no thanks. Now as for the package twice a year…keep’em coming.” He said smiling at her as she grinned back at him.

As Liz sprayed her Ivy vine growing across the room above the wall-to-wall glass doors, she looked back at her son once more. “You haven’t asked about your brother, yet?” She could see bringing up the subject made Nicola jittery.

“Yeah, I know. So, how is your
darling Santo
?” Nicola asked looking away from his mother so she could not see the repugnance in his face.

“He is well, but you should go and see him while you are here, yes?”

There was a long silence before Nicola could no longer bare his mother’s stare. “Look, I’m gonna go up stairs and take a bath and get out of these traveling clothes, and maybe take a nap. I’ll be back down later.”

“Okay, honey,” Liz said dismissing all notions that her son had changed. Nicola was still stubborn and unwilling to compromise, much like all the Agosto men.

**

When Nicola awoke later that night it was nearly eleven o’clock. He had to adjust for a moment, remember where he was. It had been ages since had awakened in someone else’s house. Wrapped in his satin goose down comforter in his king size oak sleigh bed, he looked across the room in its darkness at his senior prom picture with Arin Antonelli, the captain of the cheerleading squad. His life was so different back. Then, he was a carefree teen engulfed in social activities and adolescent politics. All that mattered then was his red mustang convertible, his letterman jacket, his wardrobe and football. He had prided himself on being the perfect gentleman in school. All the girls wanted him, and he only cared for one. Arin.

Wanting to get away from Florida and his coveted circle of friends after a horrible break up with Arin, he took a football scholarship to Memphis State University in hopes of blossoming into his manhood and returning to home afterward a full grown, intelligent young bachelor ready to help his father in the family business and rub Arin’s nose in her all time biggest mistake.

However, Nicola never returned home to his protected lifestyle or his loving family. Instead in an attempt to break away and form his own identity his senior year in college, he signed up for the Memphis police Academy. Thus, bringing about a new man with new eyes for a new and more grotesque world of beaten women, dead victims, starving children, poverty stricken communities and so many drug users and drug dealers that he couldn’t lock them all up if they voluntarily lined up outside of the jailhouse. Now, he was a bitter oversexed drunk with a gun that he often thought of using on himself.

He paused for a minute. History on hold, he rolled over in bed and felt his aching ribs and painful bruises. He stared at the wall and felt a pain in the back of his head. It had been happening often since he killed Caesar in house. Panic attacks. He tried to slow it. He breathed in and out trying to calm himself, but the pain in his chest wouldn’t stay at bay.

Getting out of bed, he sat up on the side of the bed and grabbed his chest. Sweat pouring from his forehead, he tried to stand. He needed to make it to the restroom, but the room was spinning. He kept seeing flashbacks of Brooks’ body laying on the floor and shooting Caesar in the head. He kept hearing Ivy’s voice and seeing the ultra sound pictures. He tried to stop his out-of-control thoughts but they cascaded through his mind without any way to block them.

“I’ve got to stop this shit,” he said holding his head in his hands. “I’ve got to…”

Tears formed at the sides of his eyes, and finally without a fight he let them fall to his cheeks. And there in the middle of the night, back in the place where his life story began, Nicola let go and cried.

In a quiet hysteria, Nicola wiped the large warm tears from his eyes and tried to hide his moans with his massive hands. He buried his face and sighed feeling his body tremble with pain.

Interrupting his breakdown or breakthrough, his cell phone rang. Startled, he reached over and grabbed the phone. Ivy. He cleared his throat.

“Hello.”

“Nicola?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry to call you so late. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s okay.” He tried to keep from crying.

“I just…I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I’ve had the awful feeling in my gut…like something is wrong.”

“No. I’m okay.” He wiped his eyes. “I was just…um…resting.”

“Well, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to tell you that I’m here for you. I know that all of this has been extremely hard for you.”

“I know, baby. Thanks.” He pulled himself together. “How are you and the babies?”

“We’re fine.”

“Good. I’m glad.” The phone was silent for a moment.

“Well, I’d better let you get some rest. I just wanted to call, as promised.”

“Thanks.”

“Goodnight, Nicola.”

“Goodnight, Ivy.”

And just like that she had saved him. His heart stopped rushing. His thoughts dissolved and he wanted more than anything to be back in Memphis with Ivy. Only Ivy was with Grey. He shook his head in disbelief. Ivy was with Grey. He had to accept that.

Finally pulling himself out of his pity party, Nicola decided to go down to his father’s bar and have a drink. Pulling the cover from his sweaty body, he stood up naked and stretched his long limbs. Searching in the darkness for his briefs, he pulled them on, wiped his tired face and slipped down the back staircase through the den into to the famous Agosto home bar.

***

It was like something out of a movie. Every since he was a little boy, Nicola adored the family bar. Housing every type of clear and dark liquor that he had ever tasted, the fifteen-foot, eight shelf, wall-to-wall unit was a work of art. An Irish carpenter had custom designed it to replicate a bar his father had frequented in Mexico before he had a fortune. Since before he was of age, Nicola had gone down to the bar, poured himself a hefty helping of spirits and sat in the corner drinking when no one was around. At first it started as a dare from his brother Santo, but as he got older it became a necessity.

Hitting the lights, the bar lit up and Nicola made his way around it to make a nice stiff drink. Grabbing a cigar out of the humidor under the cabinet, he lit the large Cohiba and took a drag.

“Ahh,” he said aloud after an exasperated sigh. To smoke a nice cigar, have a good shot of Cognac and release himself was all that he needed to get back on track. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the sixty-inch plasma television across the room, searched for ESPN and sat down on a leather top barstool.

He took in the strong drink, thankful for its potent contents and relished at the burning sensation it gave down his dry throat. He poured another quickly and took a long drag off his cigar when he noticed waves out in the pool. Downing the second double shot, he walked to the glass doors and flicked on the floodlights.

“Dad?” He opened the doors to a clear, midnight sky and soft pre-summer breeze.

“Ciao, Nico,” he father said pulling himself out of the pool.

“Good evening to you old man,” he said proud that his father was taking an interest in self-preservation at such an old age. “When did you get back?”

“Just,” he father said grabbing a white terrycloth robe. “I figured that a nice swim would relax me before I went up to your mother. You should have a go at it…it’s heated.”

“The one thing besides the upgrade in televisions that has changed in this place.” Nicola smiled. “I’ll try it tomorrow, maybe.”

Walking up to his father in his briefs, Nicola and his only role model stood face-to-face. His father was a large man, standing six feet six inches tall. His build was wide and solid. His tan was perfect with his chiseled features just as he had given his son. He boasted curly silver healthy hair, intense brown almond eyes, naturally arched eyebrows, perfect heart shaped lips and the signature dimples in both cheeks and chin. His skin was still firm and his stance still strong. He was the head of the proud Agosto famiglia. Adamo Agosto.

“Look at you,” Adamo said reaching out for his son.

“Hi ya, pop.” Nicola allowed his father to kiss him on both cheeks.

“It’s good to have you home.” Adamo smiled. “Are you here for long?”

“Not long enough to wear out my welcome, but long enough to say hello. A few weeks at most.”

“Good.” His father said in approval. “Let’s go inside, and you can pour your father one of those drinks you were just having.”

“You saw that, huh?”
“My boy, in my house, I see everything.”

**

The Monday morning sun was hidden behind thick dark clouds rumbling with the fierce sound of angry thunder and great bolts of lightning racing through the skies. Staring out of Grey’s kitchen window, Ivy sipped on a cup of green tea and listened to her fiancé talk to his best man on the phone in the next room. It seemed that Lawrence, Grey’s fraternity brother and old roommate from college would not be able to make it to the wedding. He would be stuck in Okinawa on duty and unable to leave the base. In less than an hour of discussion, Grey had already offered to fly him over, pay for his time off of work and speak with his General, none of which was possible. Finally rejected and disappointed, he hung up the phone and joined Ivy in the kitchen.

“With the date change, he can’t make it,” he said opening the refrigerator and looking blankly into the box.

“I heard.” Seeing his sudden mood change, she walked over, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his back. “It’ll be okay.”