Page 4 of Loss and Damages

At that moment, Jimmy pushes into the room carrying a tray that has a carafe of coffee, three mugs, and cream and sugar on it. He serves without speaking or making eye contact with anyone at the table, pauses and waits for lunch orders that don’t come, and leaves as quietly as he entered.

I pour cream into my coffee and regard my guests. I’m not in a hurry to speak.

The mayor and Pitts also help themselves to coffee as the lunch crowd noises start to filter into the back room. The scents of mozzarella and ricotta cheese churn my stomach. Lasagna is the lunch special of the day and the spices are too strong. It had been a poor choice to meet here.

I hitch my ankle up to my knee and lean back in my chair. I can wait all day. I wasn’t the one who called this meeting.

My coffee mug is half empty by the time the mayor finally speaks.

“The Historic Preservation Board called me this morning. They want to know what I’m going to tell you regarding the sale.

They reminded me, politely, that the building was built in the 1930s and they were hoping I’d appoint it a historic landmark. ”

This isn’t a surprise, and if it wasn’t sitting on prime real estate near the St. Charlotte River, I wouldn’t care what Pitts did with it.

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?” I ask Pitts.

His cheeks turn a ruddy red, and his forehead shines with sweat where it gathers at his temples.

He wants both the mayor and me to be happy, but I’m not sure how that can happen.

Mayor Wilkins wants to win the next election, and there’s no way in hell he’ll do that if he approves this sale.

Too many people are against it, yet that’s the only outcome I’ll accept.

Pitts is between a rock and a hard place, and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn I don’t fucking care.

“My father owned that building and passed it on to me.”

That doesn’t answer my question and it’s a meaningless piece of trivia that I also don’t fucking care about.

“You’re saying the land has sentimental value?” I ask.

Pitts shrugs uncomfortably.

“Gentlemen, my brother just passed away. I’m in mourning, but I attended this meeting as a courtesy.

If you don’t want to sell, Pitts, just say so.

You know as well as I do I can find other property, other land.

A building without so many strings attached.

I’m not thrilled about displacing hundreds of families—” I don’t give a shit— “and if you’re looking out for their best interests, then so be it.

You’ll be a hero, standing up for the underdogs of St. Charlotte.

” I set my coffee cup onto the table and rise from my seat.

It's my misfortune the buildings my father’s had his eyes on for the past two years house hundreds of rent-stabilized units and evicting the tenants will cause a major disruption in the city.

“Now, let’s not get hasty,” Mayor Wilkins says, waving me back into my chair. “We can at least talk this through.”

“There’s nothing to talk through. I can buy the buildings off Pitts if he’s willing, but the land won’t mean jack shit if you forbid the zoning committee to allow me to raze the complexes and build anew.

Look,” I say, setting my briefcase on the table and pulling out a plastic tube.

I unroll the plans and use the candles and glass containers of grated parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes to anchor the corners.

“A high-rise, fifty floors of luxury apartments. The cheapest will go for a million dollars. The penthouse?” I say, pointing to the top of the watercolor rendering of the building, “Ten million dollars. In addition to the apartments, the building will be equipped with everything a resident could ever need. A salon and spa, a state-of-the-art workout facility, a pool, pet sitters. I’m in talks to secure the blocks surrounding the land and Milano Management and Development will build shopping and upscale dining.

You may piss off a lot of people, Mayor, but in three years’ time, when all this has reached fruition, you’ll be given credit for your vision, for adding value to St. Charlotte. ”

“How far along are these talks?” Pitts asks. If he stares at these plans any longer, he’s going to start drooling.

Pitts and the mayor dragging their heels has become a roadblock, and I decide to tell them the truth.

“They would go better if I had the land secured. The rent-controlled apartments, as they are right now, bring down the value of the neighborhood. They know I won’t be interested in building around your apartment complexes.

As soon as the sale is complete, everything else will click into place. ”

“What about the tenants?” Wilkins asks, helping himself to more coffee. He won’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t want to show me he cares about the families inhabiting the rent-controlled apartments, most of them having lived in that building for generations.

Not only will I be stealing affordable housing, I’ll be ending decades of family tradition, destroying memories and childhood homes.

But I’ll also be eradicating a crime-ridden area where druggies and prostitutes lurk on the streets and creating a safe neighborhood where people won’t feel threatened walking alone in the dark.

“We’ll give them plenty of notice, six months, to find something else.

We’re putting up new apartment buildings on the south side of the city near shopping malls, fast food restaurants, and the large Stafford Health hospital.

I’d be willing to offer vouchers giving them the first three months rent-free if they sign a year-long lease when they relocate. ”

“How comparable is the rent?” Pitts can’t tear his eyes away from the high-rise artwork. I admit the artist surpassed even my expectations.

“Comparable.” My gaze doesn’t waver.

“How comparable?” he presses.

“It won’t be your concern, Pitts.” I stand and roll up the rendering.

I could leave it, tease them a little, but it will be more fun to bring it with me.

I show the card I have waiting up my sleeve.

“If you don’t want to sell, I can look to the other side of the river.

Either work with me, and we all win, or I’ll find a way to get what I want that doesn’t include you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I lost my brother and his wake is tonight.

I’ll send Jimmy in to see to your needs. Please stay for lunch on my tab.”

Jimmy meets me in the dining room after serving a couple their lunch plates. “How did it go?”

I force a grin. “We’re all set.”

That evening it starts to storm adding to my already piss-poor mood.

The protesters outside our building and lunch with the mayor and Pitts doesn’t keep me from speculating why Leo was driving into the city from Hollow Lake at three in the morning and whom he might have been fucking.

My brother and I were different as night and day.

We had no common ground and while I know he loved me, I don’t think he liked me.

It isn’t until I’m standing next to his coffin, looking down at his serene face, that I realize the emotion I’ve been battling with since I found out about his death is regret.

It’s too late to fix what our relationship was and turn it into what it was supposed to have been.

He died thinking I’m a cold-hearted asshole while I thought he was nothing but a bleeding heart who was too fragile and depressed to do any real work for the company.

A picture of our family taken several years ago when Leo and I were kids is tucked under one hand.

Mama wrapped a rosary around his other and picked out his best suit.

Clean-shaven, his hair brushed away from his face, he looks like he’s about to attend Mass, something he rarely did in favor of sleeping in and going to brunch.

Sometimes Mama could convince him to attend Saturday evening service, but I don’t know how long it’s been.

I don’t go, either, and Father Dan never lets me forget it.

“There’s the stray sheep,” he says in a low, pleased voice, sidestepping several others who are vying for a moment to speak with him.

He wouldn’t pass up the chance to corner me, and there’s nowhere I can run in the funeral parlor and in front of my brother’s casket, no less.

“Father,” I say, my nonna’ s wailing drowning me out. She’s sitting near my mother who’s quietly sniffling into a black handkerchief. I should go sit with them, but my mother’s favorite son is gone and I won’t be of any comfort.

“When are you coming back into the fold? Give your grief to God,” he says, resting his hand on my shoulder. I try to loosen my muscles. His touch of sympathy is the first I’ve had since Dad told me Leo was dead.

“I’m not exactly the kind of sheep God wants in his flock.”

His smile is kind and sad. Everyone loved Leo. “God loves all his sheep, Dominic, even the black ones, especially the black ones. You’ll find grace and forgiveness among us. Please come to Mass on Sunday. Your mother will be happy. She needs that now.”

“I doubt there’s anything I can do to make my mother happy.

” I’m not bitter about it. Maybe I used to be and maybe Leo was jealous of the time our father gave me, but I’m no longer angry that Leo has always been the stars in my mother’s eyes.

I’ve known since he was born he would please her in ways I never could and I latched on to our father knowing if I was just as cold as he was, that we would be the perfect pair, father and son.

“That’s not true. Nonetheless, would you like me to speak with her?”

“Talk to her if you wish, but not on my behalf. Our relationship doesn’t need fixing. It’s fine how it is.”

Father Dan nods but he doesn’t look convinced. “My prayers are with you.”

He walks toward my mother and drops to his haunches in front of her, holding her trembling hands in his.

I sink into a chair that’s away from the others, lean my head against the wall, and close my eyes. I’m so tired, and I can’t believe my brother is gone. I want to leave and call the first number listed in my little black book. If I can find some peace between a woman’s legs, I’ll take it.

Lightning streaks across the viewing room walls and thunder cracks so loud everyone stops speaking in shock. Rain whips against the windows as if God Himself is angry Leo’s dead.

The night wears on and it seems as if every person in St. Charlotte has come to say goodbye. I’ve never wanted a drink more.

Tomorrow, there will be a long, drawn out funeral, and I’m a pallbearer along with a few of my cousins, a task I’m not looking forward to.

The day will end with a party at Jimmy’s restaurant, closed to the public, and we’ll get drunk and share stories and celebrate his life.

I’m hoping that spending the day with my family will give me the closure I need to forget that Leo and I could have had a better relationship, but I don’t think anything will be able to do that.

It’s a guilt that will eat at me for the rest of my life.

I’m counting down the minutes until I can leave and escape this living hell when a woman tentatively steps into the room.

She’s holding a dripping black umbrella and water runs down her black trench coat.

She looks around, her eyes darting to every corner, expecting.

..I don’t know. Someone to stop her, maybe, but no one pays her any attention.

People have been in and out all evening to pay their respects, express their condolences to my mother, and shake my father’s hand, and a new face simply adds to the crowd.

She’s gorgeous, in a wholesome, farm-girl sort of way.

Her hair shines, and her skin is clear. She had a light hand with her makeup, and from my place in the corner I get a glimpse of dark eyelashes, rosy cheeks, and red lips.

I can’t tell what color her eyes are, but I won’t approach her to find out.

I don’t want to scare her before she’s done what she’s come to do.

She must have seen the notice in the paper. The wake tonight is open to the public and will be more personal than the huge fiasco his funeral will be. To say a proper goodbye, she was smart to come now.

Gracefully, she weaves around people standing in small groups speaking in hushed tones about the sensitive soul who killed himself to avoid a deer in the road.

I’ve tolerated the furtive glances at my dry eyes. I haven’t broken down and don’t know if I will. How much time will pass before I realize Leo is never coming back?

She stands in front of his casket, her head bowed.

Her hair falls in a curtain around her face and I can’t see if she’s crying, but her shoulders are steady.

She lets the umbrella fall to her feet and grips Leo’s hand, and for one brief second I want to leap off my chair and tell her to stop touching him.

Why does she think she has a right to touch him?

The woman leans over and presses a kiss to Leo’s forehead.

..or maybe his lips. When she straightens, she tucks her hair behind her ear and I have a clear view of the side of her face.

Tears streak her cheek, and she wipes them away with the tips of her fingers before elegantly bending her knees and lowering to the floor to retrieve her umbrella.

I swallow. This is Leo’s girlfriend, the woman he spent his last night on earth with.

The most inappropriate thought rushes into my head. He had exquisite taste.

Father Dan strides to her side and she steps back, unaccustomed, perhaps, to talking to a priest. He holds out a hand and slowly, maybe reluctantly, she reaches out to shake it.

They trade a few mouthfuls of words before she tries to sidle away, but Father Dan won’t have any of it and presses a card into her hand, perhaps inviting her to the funeral tomorrow. She lifts a shoulder.

I’m going to miss talking to her if I don’t move, but just as I stand from my chair, my father says, “Dom, will you see your mother home? I have business.”

I know what his business is, and I fight between being envious he has somewhere to go and disgust he can’t spend the night of their son’s wake with his wife.

“Yes, I just need—” I nudge him aside.

He steps out of the way, but the mystery girl is no longer talking to Father Dan.

She’s gone.