Day 25 - Only Laugh - Chapter 25 (1746 words)

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ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 25

The smell of coffee was strong and bite at his senses, the heat of the cup and the heavy aroma of roasted beans, heated, filtered and ready to consume. He had taken his shot of coffee and some bitter dark chocolate and headed to his office to think. He had been wondering if it was time to tell Aida about his past, or if it was never going to be time. There certainly was some appeal in living in denial of who he ever was. So he had been thinking about this for about two weeks now and there was never a natural lead in to reveal such an important, possibly relationship ending piece of information.

Aida had been dropping pieces, bits about the the children’s father, not really for his benefit but for theirs, and hers. They had little memory of their late father, but they clung to the memory of the memory. So she was mentioning him in passing, how he was kind and understanding, not jealous and easygoing. All of this was true, she was unsure of what he would have wanted for her and them in terms of grieving and mourning. He was so young when he died, they were still in the morning phase of the relationship, heading to nowhere near any stage that required them to think to hard about their own mortality. Young parents, young themselves and two children’s futures to think about, no concern for themselves.

When he had passed on the grandparents spent quite a lot of time helping out with them, until they eventually realised they were not needed, not really. They gracefully gave them the space they needed to move forward, never feeling put out or cut off. They would come and visit two or three times a year. They were overdue actually now, Aida mentioned this to Tony one day, they would announce soon enough that they would be seeing the kids, maybe stay a few days in the village meeting up with old friends unseen. She would have to tell them, if they did not already know that was. The gossip around town would clue them in, maybe they had been let in on the 'secret' already. Aida was not ready to just ring and tell them, hey by the way I have moved on from your dead son. She was sure enough that they would not take it badly, perhaps they would be supporting and glad for her even.

It was not confrontation or fear that made her reticent, but her own misgivings about the relationship. He was holding back, no man was this laid back about everything. How on earth had he become so successful and so rich that he can afford to work so little and still afford so much? Family, he appeared to have none and certainly made no move to discuss it. Some kind of business venture? He did not seem driven enough. Something illegal perhaps? None of these sat well with Aida, and felt that something would snap or break in his thin veneer and one day she would find something she did not like. Perhaps someone she did not like.

She did not want to pry because she would find out and that knowing could be the end of it all. She would have been happy enough not finding out for a little longer, waiting it out and not progressing the relationship at making sure that there was nothing that she could not come back from. If Paolo's parents arrived any time soon she would owe to them to define it, even in the loosest terms. Then that would be too far to go back, if she stopped after that it would be too late, because if she was only half hearted and unenergised about the relationship, they would rightly question it's future and impact on the children. That was the other thing, the kids would tolerate the newness of it all for how long before accepting him into their lives more permanently? Had they already? Would they ever?

Too much could go wrong, and inversely nothing could go wrong. It felt too random and lazy to just let what happens happen. Then the call came and they said, as if by some psychic connection that they would be in the village in a week or so, for the festival. Every year they tried to attend, but timing and distance had been unforgiving in recent memory. Now they would be here in a few weeks. Aida was at home with Oriana when her ex mother in law called with the news. She took the news quietly, with some semblance of fear in her voice, yet did not react. She needed time to process the sudden change and application of a deadline. So she and Oriana had a few hours before Vittorio was going to be home, from his after school job and there were no pre-made plans with Tony either. They would go out, get some air and then the three of them would talk when Vito was home. Time to have it out as a family, see what he children were thinking, when she had been to cautious and happy not to ask before.

They walked to the square, a little further off it that Tony's cafe and residence were, but still in walking distance down a staccato cobbled pathway that echoed in between the steep multi level house faces that lined the alleyways leading to the centre. She did not pass by Solo Ridere on the way down that day, there was always more than one way to stroll where you wanted to. They took the long way through the village, taking the time that she needed. Gelato was on the way, so they got themselves some, though the day was overcast and blustery at times. Oriana walked a few paces ahead of Aida, always in sight her lavender parasol was twirling about one shoulder as she worked the Gelato in her other hand before it melted, though much slower than in the summer days.

When they got to the square she took a position on the stone benches near the statue of the Saint of the Village, a short distance from but perfectly lined up with the vaulted iron and wooden entrance to God's local house. When Oriana spun about to show her mother how she had finished her cone and dessert, she opened both palms momentarily, at the same instant that the wind gusted and took the parasol from her. It flew rapidly on the wind, opened and cupping the force through it's makeshift sail and flying up to wedge it's handle in the tower spike in the centre of the church, higher and further than was easily accessible. The umbrella part had blown inside out by now and then the handle was well and truly wedged in there. Oriana started to cry, she was a little too old for that, but today it just was too much and she bawled like a baby, someone much younger and less coddled than she.

Tony was sipping the coffee, not really drinking it in as savouring the aroma and mixing the smell with his chocolate.

Then he saw Oriana's umbrella twirling and it's colour caught his eye and he tagged onto Aida walking just behind her. He started to call out but then thought the better of that as it would draw attention to this, his most private of places, he was ready to share soon, but that did not mean throwing all the doors open at once.

So he took off at a comfortable run down through his property and out the lane-way and onto the square to catch up with them, suggest that perhaps a talk was in order. He jogged into view just in time to see the purple parasol flick upwards and lodge itself in the church. In a few seconds after he saw this he knew that it was in reach, he could and would climb to get it.

He walked up confidently and touched Aida on the arm as she tried to quiet down the upset girl. He kept walking and strode right to the church door, planning his ascent with every step drawing nearer. He did not break pace as he lifted his foot on the last step on solid ground and placed it on the trellis work surrounding the door in wrought iron. He scaled over halfway to the peak in seconds, a spider-man of sorts confidence giving him courage and speed.

“Tony! No! It's not safe, you'll hurt yourself! No!” Aida realised that he was not going to stop, he was on his way to get the umbrella. Why was he doing that? No one asked him too, and this tantrum of tears was unexpected and uncharacteristic of her daughter, there was no need to do this for a cheap, pretty thing like this sun umbrella.

He ignored her and was now on the roof of the church, free to walk to the peak and the base of the final ascending spire. The wind gusted and threw him off balance and he stumbled, fell but righted himself very quickly on the ridge along the church roof. He sat down, weather had punctured his confidence for the first time. Determined he moved more carefully feeling the grey skies darken and the pressure change. He would have to be quick, get to the spire and then get down. He had gone too far to go back now.

This seemed oh too familiar as drops of rain touched him and the wind howled menacingly, the storm everyone had predicted now coming on strong. He looked down and saw Aida with her hands over her mouth and Oriana staring open mouthed at his bravery or foolishness. She was undecided.

Tony pressed on and climbed the last few feet of the roof and then lifted himself up to the spire, climbing as quickly but as safely as he could. He got to the top, to the outcropping that had snagged the crooked handle. He secured it, did not brandish it with bravado as he had seen himself doing in his head. Instead he got a better grip and turned about to start his descent.

He was less than two feet from the giant metal spire when lightning struck it and the world whited out then he saw no more.