Chances Are... Stories of Hope Helen's Tale by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

The Battaglia home...Davenport, Iowa

“You okay?” Rita called from the kitchen. The boy looked up and smiled from his book

“Yeah…just a bit…sad.”

“I know honey, I miss him so much. Today of all days. We’ll do something special when I get back, okay?” Another all-too-necessary trip that took Rita away from home once again, and left her fourteen year old son alone.

“I know this is hard, honey, but you’ve got to be strong. It won’t last forever. Jerry promised me that starting in October the trips won’t be as frequent when the office in New York is running on its own.” Rita sighed; she no more believed that to be true than her too-often disappointed child, as evidenced by the frowns on both their faces.

“You don’t have to tell me what you think I want to hear, Mom. I’m a big….” His voice trailed off.

“I know, honey. And I promise we’ll talk when I get back.” She made that promise all too frequently; fully meaning to fulfill it, but just as frequently pulled in the wrong and conflicting direction. As trapped as Tony felt, his anxiety was no match for Rita’s, since she felt the weight of his disappointment and hers guilt as well.

“Tell Daddy I love him, okay?” Tony half-smiled.

“Always, honey. I’ll bring you back something special, alright?” She surprised him as he lifted his head from his book once again to see her standing next to him.

“I got this for you. I didn’t quite find what I was looking for, but I think you’ll really like it. Just remember me and Daddy when you open it tomorrow, okay?”

Rita frowned as if she had planned to disappoint her son once again; it must be all those poor career choices she made when she set aside her career to raise him after Aldo died on that fateful day. It was her fault that she took the path of least resistance to gain a degree in a field which held little interest for her. It was her fault that the office in Springfield had somehow entered the wrong information and that they were left to the mercies of the system when no insurance could be found.

“Mom? Can we have a talk….when you get back?” The boy put his head down, looking at the package in his lap.

“I’ve got to talk with you, too, honey. We’ll talk….yes…maybe go to that restaurant everyone’s talking about, okay?” An odd smile crossed her face.

“I wish you had time now, Mom….” Tony said slowly even as Rita moved toward the door. She turned back and saw him staring down.

“I wish I had time, too. As soon as I get back, okay?” She quickly ran out the door after blowing him a kiss.

Later that week…

“Daddy says hello.” Rita said as she put her purse on the counter. Tony had just gotten home from school and had started to make dinner; Pollo Vino Blanco.

“Do you think he remembers me?” Tony called from the kitchen as he stood over the stove, pouring a cup of white wine into a pan. Another ritual that was growing sadder as the boy felt more and more distant from the father he never knew.

“Honey…I think he does….he’s been in our lives since that day, even if we don’t see him or even sense him, but I sometimes wonder….then I can remember his voice, and I feel better.” She paused and realized that her son probably didn’t remember Aldo’s voice, but Tony began to sing softly.

La luce che tu dai
Nel cuore restera
A ricordarci che
L'eterna stella sei.

Rita sat down and put her hand to her face and began to cry; Tony did remember, and so did she….

I pray we'll find your light,
And hold it in our hearts
When stars go out each night,
Remind us where you are...

She was reminded of where Aldo was every night when she turned to embrace a specter in an empty space next to her. The light that didn’t shine in this plane of existence, but illuminated her heart. She raised her head and spoke.

“Honey…I didn’t think you’d remember.” She half-smiled; the memory almost as painful as it was sweet.

“I didn’t remember all the words, but I remembered most of the tune; I got the lyrics off the internet. I figured it was something that might be good when you got back.”

“Was that what you wanted to talk about?” She asked with anticipation; she had so much to talk about herself, but Tony had seemed so disappointed when she left earlier in the week.

“No, mom….well, I did want to give that to you, but no….something else. But you go first, okay?”

“I had a talk with Jerry. I’m not traveling anymore; ever!” Tony’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I can’t do this any longer. It’s not fair to you and it’s really not fair to me either. I want to be here; this is such an important time of your life, and I’ve missed too much already.” She began to tear up and Tony recognized her all-too-familiar feelings. He walked over and held her.

“No, Mom…stop it. You did what you had to.” She sat down at the kitchen table.

“I…need to be here for me, honey…..my life is passing me by, and I’ve given up too much already. I’m so sorry.”

“Mom…please…” Tony stirred the pan once and pulled it off the burner, turning off the stove. He poured some coffee for her and sat down, grabbing her hand.

“Tony….You know I loved your father.” Her words almost seemed to plead for forgiveness for an unknown offense. Rita had been widowed ten years; a single mom since Tony was four years old.

“And Daddy loved you….but I know, Mom….it’s been so long. Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

“Ye….yes. She hesitated; Rita’s guilt rose swiftly to the surface over something important, normal, and necessary.

“Mom…I think….I think Daddy would understand….like he’s been guiding you all along anyway. If you found someone as nice as Daddy….it’ll be a good thing. Okay?”

“I don’t think anyone could ever replace your Dad, but I think I found someone…who reminds me of him so much….”

“That’s great, Mom….that’s wonderful. What’s his name?” He smiled and squeezed her hand but she pulled away slightly, almost ashamed.

“His…..I….Tony, please forgive me?” She turned away and began to sob.

“Whatever for, Mom? For falling in love? It’s okay. Please, what’s his name?”

“Sandy.” She almost whispered it, choking back tears.

“Sandy? Not that guy in IT….Mom….he’s a jerk. You can’t stand him.”

“N…no….honey….not that Sandy….Sandy…. Jerry’s PA.”

“I don’t know him….should I?”

“No, honey….you don’t know ….her.” She looked away once again.

“Mom?” Tony’s voice grew softer, but the welcome was unmistakeable.

“The really nice lady that works for Jerry? The one I met at the picnic in July? You…and her?” His tone might have been welcoming, but Rita felt nothing but shame and embarrassment.

“Y...yes.” She looked into her son’s eyes and saw nothing but love. He smiled, his own tears beginning to well in his eyes as he nodded. No other word for the moment as he pulled his mother into a hug and a kiss on the ear.

“It…it’s okay?” She whimpered, not meaning to be childish, but feeling lost like a little girl. Tony kissed her again and spoke.

“Whatever makes you happy, Mom…of course it’s okay!” He breathed out heavily, hoping that his words gave his mother comfort. She began to shake only a bit, still crying a little while before saying,

“I love her, Tony….I do…but I don’t want anything to come between us. I’ve neglected you for too long, and I can’t.”

“Mom….whatever makes you happy is going to help us…..you’ve been working and pulling a heavy weight for too long. I think Daddy would be fine. I know I am. Trick is, Mom….are you?”

He stared into her eyes, his own expression once again showing her nothing but acceptance. And she finally smiled through her tears.

“Okay? It’s okay?” Tony nodded and Rita pulled him close and kissed him. After a few minute of silence, save for the gentle sobbing of relief, Tony spoke.

“Mom….I’ve got something I need to tell you.” Now it was his turn to look away; the shame he felt was almost as overwhelming as Rita’s misplaced guilt. She grabbed his chin and gently turned it back to her.

“It’s okay. Nothing you could say could ever change things, honey. What is it?

“I…I’ve met someone as well.” His face began to redden and his eyes welled with tears once again. At fourteen, what or who could it be that made her son so ashamed. She held his chin fast as he tried to turn away.

“That’s wonderful, honey. Who did you meet?”

“Her….her name is Helen…...” He nearly sobbed and Rita shook her head.

“Helen? Do I know her, honey? One of your friends from school?”” He shook his head and once again tried to turn away. Rita took her hand away from his chin only long enough to touch his cheek, her fingers feeling the tears that now flowed freely.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Her name is Helen and you met her. You think I’d be upset about that? I don’t even know her. Why would I be upset?”

“You….you do know her; you’ve met her…” Rita’s expression changed to puzzlement, since she didn’t know anyone of her son’s friends named Helen.

“Who is she….did I meet her and not get her name? Helen doesn’t sound familiar.”

“That…that’s because you know her by another name, Mom. “ Rita shook her head slightly and Tony buried his face in her chest, weeping hard and barely able to speak, but finally he said haltingly,

“I’m Helen, Mom...It’s me….I’m Helen.”

Next: Helen's Chance

The Prayer
Words and Music by
David Foster, Carole Bayer Sager
Italian by Alberto Testa, Tony Renis
as performed by
Angie Stone
and Josh Groban
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaU-kvuD-so&playnext=1&list=P...