Winter In August Read online

  “I miss you too. I cleaned your old room last week. It looks the same as when you left.” He melted my heart by saying that.

  “It feels like too many years since I’ve been home.” The old room was my place to escape after my mom left. I was terrified of what was going on outside my bedroom most nights when I knew my dad had been drinking. He never once hit me, but he would sometimes go into a rage, and I knew to steer clear. In a strange way, I missed my old bedroom and the comfort it gave me.

  “Well, don’t stay away anymore. We’re all we’ve got, you know?”

  “I won’t. I’m off next week, and I think I can take a few days to come and see you. I’ll call tomorrow night, Dad.”

  I hung up with him getting an unsettled feeling about our conversation. My dad was right; it had been the two of us for most of my life. All of which were difficult and at times scary. When my mom left, life as I had come accustomed to, would not be the same. At eight, I was not prepared for what lie ahead of me. There were times when I had nothing to eat, no clean clothes, and once I remember not having electric. Not that we didn’t have the money, he just stopped caring about everything. My dad would wake up and drink, come home at lunch and drink, fall asleep and drink some more when he’d get up. Not only had I lost my mom, but my dad, who was the only adult I had to depend on, became a blubbering drunk. He almost lost the electrical store; and how he kept it from going under was nothing less than a miracle. When I got older, I would be dropped off after school and take over because he would be too drunk by noon. With the help of Dan, his biggest customer, I would wait on customers, take orders over the phone, and I could cut wire like a pro. I was twelve years old and practically running a business by myself until the late afternoon when my dad would get sober long enough to work a few hours. My dad didn’t stay drunk around the clock every day, but he was an alcoholic and his constant drinking made my life a living hell. Thankfully, I was pretty mature for my age and learned how to wash clothes, clean, and cook at the ripe young age of twelve. My uncle and aunt now say they didn’t realize how bad things were at the time. Yes, they would stop in for a visit on the weekends, and my aunt would bring food once in a while, but they knew. They knew and didn’t want to be bothered. For whatever reason, we made it through the darkest times. I wouldn’t admit it, but I had a lot of hurtful feelings.

  My dad’s breaking point came when he received divorce papers the summer before my senior year. He took his truck home from the bar instead of calling me to come and get him. That night he drove his truck into a tree, broke both legs, and had to be pried out of his truck. I had to work at the electrical store most of my senior year of high school. However, the accident finally made him realize what he was doing was going to kill him eventually. I was working on our relationship and trying to get closer to him. I can forgive him, that’s easy; it's forgetting that’s the hardest.

  The thought of going back home made me panicky thinking of all I left behind. I hated to go back there and be bombarded with memories of Kris. I avoided going home at every cost making up more excuses than I could keep straight. But this time, something in my dad’s voice made me want to see him. He sounded different. His call made me also wonder where my mom could be and what she might be doing somewhere. The three of us were a family once, for a short time. Now, I didn’t even know if she was alive. I had no contact with her in years. Nineteen to be exact. The last time I’d heard from my mom was right after she left. She wrote a letter to let me know she wasn’t coming back home but wanted to make sure I knew she loved me. She promised she would stay in touch, and I could come and stay with her once she was settled.

  My mom never must’ve got settled, because I didn’t hear from her. I was over missing her and being angry for leaving us. I wanted to know where she lived if she was even alive, and that was all. All the love I had before my mom abandoned us, had been long gone. I felt virtually nothing for the woman I was once inseparable from at one time. Honestly, I was cold inside and didn’t have a love for too many people. The anger was gone, but the hurt she caused would be there forever and forever having me question if anyone loved me or I could love anyone.

  Chapter 7

  The next day was insanely busy at the salon. There was some fundraiser going on in the city and the place was wall to wall women wanting their hair done. Most of them I had not styled before, and let me tell you, none of them were satisfied with what we did. The only thing that helped me through was knowing I was off for a week. I was longing to go home to have a hot shower and start my vacation when a huge floral arrangement came to the salon before closing. The flowers were every type of wildflower imagined, so bright and colorful in a huge vase. The delivery boy weaved and wrestled to get the flowers in the door to the gasps of the customers.

  “Oh Sven, you shouldn’t have, honey. I know last night was incredible. Oh wait, these are for our Gabby.” Tab laughed along with the women looking over at Sven. I was washing a client’s hair and looked up. For me? No one sent me flowers. This had to be a mistake.

  My face lit up red and Rhonda pinched me on the butt.

  “Girl, what have you been up to? You made someone happy.”

  I rolled my eyes, dried off my hands, and went to see who the card was from. I figured it might be my dad buttering me up to come home.

  I snatched the note out of Tab’s hand before he could read the message.

  “Come on honey, I need to know who sent you flowers.”

  “That’s none of your business,” I smiled and opened the card.

  I thought of u. Beautiful wildflowers. Thanks for spending time with me. I WILL see u soon. Colt

  Minutes after the flowers were delivered I received a text.

  Thinking of u. I was stunned he had my number.

  Colt, flowers r amazing. U shouldn’t have. How did you get my #? A half minute later he texted back to me.

  I have my ways. Need to see u. Go out with me this weekend.

  Going to Ohio. I’ll call when I get back.

  Looking fwd to it.

  I rolled my eyes and threw my phone back in my station drawer. Though he had intrigued me, and yes he was gorgeous, I wasn’t looking for a man. He wasn’t my type of man and being with him was a waste of my time.

  I was busy with new clients and didn’t have a moment to rest until we closed for the night. I remembered Colt talking about his girlfriend Claire coming in and I wanted to find out if Sven remembered her. After the last client left, and I had counted my tips, I looked at the files and found her on the computer. Claire Sills did come in once a month for a cut and a color and her appointments stopped abruptly. I didn’t remember her, even though I worked there at the time, but probably because she always had early morning appointments with Sven. While I was closing, and helping Sven, I asked him if he recalled working with her.

  “Sven, do you remember someone named, Claire Sills? She came in here a couple of years ago. You were the one that cut her hair.” I was stuffing towels in the washing machine as Sven folded the dried ones. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me.

  “Claire Sills, yes. Her accident was awful. She was such a sweet and beautiful woman.”

  “Accident? What kind of accident?”

  “Car. Why do you ask?” He began folding again.

  “I met her boyfriend. He was the guy at Marco’s place. The pilot I told you about.” He turned to gaze at me.

  “Wow. She used to tell me about him. Colt’s his name, right?”

  “Yes, it’s Colt. How did she die in this accident?”

  “She was on her way home on the New Jersey Turnpike one night during a blizzard. She didn’t see a pile up on the highway and slammed into the car in front of her. A semi slammed into Claire’s car and crushed her. I went to the funeral. It was heartbreaking.”

  “That’s really sad.”

  “She was the sweetest customer I’ve had. Colt used to come in here too before she passed away.”

  Neither of us said
anything for a minute. I was lost in thoughts of how bad her death must have been for Colt. How did he have the strength to get through something like that?

  “Wait a minute. He’s the one who sent you the flowers.” Sven turned to me smiling.

  I didn’t answer.

  Sven’s voice went up a few octaves. “You little vixen. Did you sleep with him?” He stopped folding and walked closer to me.

  “No, I did not, thank you. I did kiss him, though.”

  “Christ, I would have. He’s hot. You must be one hell of a kisser to get flowers.”

  I shrugged. “He wants me to go out with him, but he’s not my type.”

  “You’re making a big mistake. He’s rich, gorgeous, and nice as hell. He owns a private jet company, and it’s one of the biggest around.”

  “I don’t do nice and rich. Gorgeous is okay, but he isn’t my type of gorgeous.” I found myself trying to convince myself of this frequently.

  Sven shrugged and turned away from me. “Suit yourself sweetie, but you’ll change your mind.”

  “Want to bet?”

  I took the opportunity to remind Sven I would be off for a week. Before talking to my father I planned on spending the week doing absolutely nothing. I had some books to read, spend some time in the city, and planned on cleaning the house.

  With much distress about going home, something told me I needed to make a visit and check on my dad. Plus, that weekend was the anniversary of Kris’s death and I wanted to try with all my heart to go visit his grave. I would be there for a couple of days, and if I didn’t want to stay I could get in my car and come back home anytime. A road trip would be good for me. With Harper gone, I needed to be around someone I loved and my dad was the one.

  I was reluctant to leave my little oasis and get in the car and drive for eight hours. The Honda Civic was something Kris helped me pick out when I was a senior in high school. I looked over to the passenger seat and remembered him sitting there while I drove around town. The backseat I threw my suitcase in, reminded me of the many times we screwed on an old dirt road out in the middle of nowhere. Part of the reason I didn’t drive the car much was because it was a constant reminder, even now, of Kris. Hoping the shit box of a car would last there and back, I filled my gas tank and headed out Saturday morning. With my girl Janis blasting in my stereo, I maneuvered through the New York traffic like a pro.

  The drive went quicker than anticipated, though I tried to take my time. I stopped as much as possible and enjoyed the scenery.

  The familiar surroundings, came back to me when I hit Route 84 and noticed everything from my past life. The roller rink was opened for business, and the parking lot full of cars. The local restaurant was busy for Saturday afternoon. Sonny’s Tire was going strong with Sonny Smith standing outside working on a car. The old dirt road we used to park on, now led to a busy subdivision. The worst place I drove past, and one I tried to pass quickly, was the cemetery. That’s where Kris was, and where I hadn’t stopped since the day of the funeral. Driving by the gate of the cemetery opened up a whole set of emotions even after five years. Attempting to turn my head the other way, I caught a glimpse of the iron gate. The last thing my tear filled eyes locked on while pulling away after the funeral. I swore I would never lay eyes on the cemetery again.

  My house was a few miles from town on an old road paved ten years ago. I rolled down my windows and enjoyed the familiar scent of the lilacs growing everywhere. The only neighbor around was Old Jack Spencer. He had to be ninety now and still out working in his garden. He waved at me, though I knew he waved to anyone passing by. Pulling into the driveway of my house, I noticed my dad sitting on the old porch, his favorite spot in the summer. His usual cheap vodka and newspaper were now replaced with a lemonade and an iPhone. He stood and limped to the car, a permanent condition after his car accident.

  “Mooch, I’m so glad you’re here.” Kissing me on both cheeks and pulling me close to him I was eased immediately. Oddly enough, I felt a sense of relief in a strange way to be there with him and wondered why I stayed away for so long. He had come to see me six months ago, but he looked different, a little tired. I couldn’t put my finger on what was making him seem different.

  My dad, Giuseppe Barone was born in Campobasso Italy and raised in Little Italy in Cleveland. A short man with a big nose and an even bigger heart, he would do anything for anyone. At fifty-six, he was still handsome with a full head of curly black hair. People often commented he looked similar to a young Tony Bennett, though he didn’t see the resemblance. Always wearing a pinky ring, and Elvis looking sunglasses, he was a very proud member of the Sons of Italy and the Knights of Columbus. Many women had swooned over him over the years, but he never cared. He never gave up hope that one day, the one woman he truly loved, would come back up the driveway and back into his life. I wondered how he went with no sex for so long. There had to be someone he banged sometime. I didn’t ask because his sex life was none of my business. I’m sure he must have, but I was happier not having him suggest it.

  “Dad. It’s so good to see you.” I said as I buried my head in his neck. He smelled of Old Spice and garlic and I felt like I was finally home.

  He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away to get a better look at me. “Are you hungry? You’re a little scrawny.”

  “Scrawny? I’m not, but yes, I’m starved. That’s a long drive.” I smelled the sauce cooking inside the small house I had once called home.

  Walking inside I noticed everything was the same as when I was last there. My dad’s rocking chair stayed in front of the television. The couch was the same and looked as if no one ever sat on it. My mom’s blue striped oversized chair still sat in the corner, now bleached from the sun shining in the window. The only thing that changed was he replaced his big cabinet television with a new flat screen as big as the wall.

  I went to the kitchen to see what he put in the sauce. Just as I thought, he made my favorite meatballs. I grabbed the end of the loaf of hard Italian bread. I slathered the piece in butter and sauce and shoved it in my mouth. Sauce and bread were almost better than sex. Well, not quite.

  My dad walked to the refrigerator opening the stainless steel door, he showed me all the things he bought. “Look at this. I bought your favorites, Mooch.”

  “Dad, I’m trying to stay this thin. You’re going to get me fat,” I laughed, looking inside to see the many things I used to devour as a little girl. I noticed a pepperoni stick, provolone cheese, and Snickers bars. All the wonderful things I tried to stay away from, were waiting for me once again.

  I walked to the stove, ripped off another piece of bread, and scarfed it down in one bite. Sauce dripped down my lip, and I wiped it with my finger. “Dad, this is so good. I haven’t had bread in a year. I make my sauce exactly like you showed me, and it never tastes this good.”

  “What kind of crazy shit is that? A person could die without bread. You better eat fast before you pass out. I told you the secret to a good sauce is the olive oil.” my dad laughed turning his attention to the noodles boiling on the stove.

  “Take your bag to your room, Mooch and come and eat. The noodles are about done.” To Giuseppe, food cured everything. If you were sad, eat, tired, eat. Whatever was wrong in my family, food was the cure. Needless to say, by the time I was twelve I was a very plus size girl. Sure he would be drunk most days, but he could make the sauce and buy the desserts at the local bakery and that’s what I lived on.

  “You didn’t remodel my room or move a broad in since I’ve been gone?” I joked.

  “What? Not on your life. That’s my Mooch’s room and no one else’s.” He hugged me tight. I loved the feel of his familiar gray work shirt on my face. The worn out cotton was familiar to me since I was a little girl. He’s worn the same outfit for the past twenty-six years.

  “I’m glad I came home.” I looked at him and smiled.

  “I’m glad you’re home too.” He kissed me on the forehead and I headed towards my bedro
om door.

  A sense of apprehension enveloped me as I took the familiar creaky, wooden steps to my room in the attic. The last time I was up there, Kris was alive. My apartment-style bedroom was the official party room since my dad was out every weekend. I was a cheerleader and very popular when I attended St. Christopher’s. By the time freshman year arrived, I seemed to have blossomed overnight. The weight came off, my breasts grew, and my body became curvy and filled out. Put that on top of the fact I had no real parental supervision, I was who everyone wanted to hang out with. I took in everything, swiftly. Missing on my nightstand were the four pictures of me and Kris. My dad must have put them away, so I wouldn’t be so upset. I was relieved he had. Walking around to my closet I noticed a few things hanging in there from my high school days. All my prom and homecoming dresses, my favorite outfits, and my communion dress, covered in plastic. Despite all the bad memories, being home gave me a sense of comfort and belonging.

  That night, I ate way too much as usual. My dad went to our favorite bakery and bought chocolate chip cannoli’s I couldn’t refuse. He fell asleep in his rocking chair, and I fell asleep on the couch. I woke around two and we both went to our rooms. The quietness of the house and the familiar smells put me to sleep almost instantly. What a wonderful feeling curling up in my bed, listening to my dad snore, and the refrigerator making the chirping sound it did when I lived there.

  * * * * *

  Sunday morning came with my dad calling me at seven in the morning. I was in a deep sleep and I could hear him in the distance.

  “Mooch, come on.”

  “What? Is the house on fire?” I mumbled half asleep. The thought of getting out of my comfy bed was not what I had in mind. I was prepared to sleep all day.

  “Breakfast at Eddies. We have to go. Get your butt in gear. I have a busy day planned for us,”