Chances Are... Stories of Hope Allie's Chance by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

At the Russell home once again....
 

“You get over to Taliaferro’s yet?” Blake Russell wasn’t an idiot; he had already talked to Jimmy Sr. and Alan knew his father too well.

“No…I haven’t and I’m not. Besides, I told you last week that I had an application in at the hospital.” Alan looked away, fearing the glare he’d receive.

“Oh, come on, Alan. You still stuck on that? I thought you had gotten over that phase.” His father was his typical dismissive self. He glared at his son and shook his head.

“I don’t understand. You tell me you could hardly deal with it over there, and still you insist on going back to it. What do you think you have to prove?”

Bernice frowned. She had been a nurse herself for nearly twenty-six years, and had stepped away from the stress of the ER to work as a nurse practitioner at a local medical practice. Alan looked into his mother’s eyes and saw an understanding that she never expressed openly; an almost camaraderie that never existed between him and his father. But then Alan had so much more in common with his mother than nursing; something that was going to express itself.

“I’ve got to do this…It’s not just for me, Mom, but for the ones who never came back.” With that he received a rare nod of approval from his father, followed by a lecture of disapproval.

“What would you know? You didn’t even see combat. Try sitting in mud up to your waist with shells whizzing by your head…. Try having your arm refuse to work because of the shrapnel you just took in your shoulder.” Blake scowled. It was the most his father had talked about his service in years, but he wasn’t finished.

“Try watching your best friend’s life just bleed away while you hold him….” A commonality that neither understood or realized; at least until that moment.

“I didn’t watch, Dad, but I held him in my arms when they brought his body in.” Alan said haltingly.

“I suppose that’s why you have to go to that shrink over in Lyons? That Post Traumatic crap!” Bernice gasped and reached over to touch Blake’s arm. He shied away.

“No!” She practically shouted as she stood up. Bernice stood across from her husband but she turned to face Alan.

“This stops right now! I’m sick of it. You think you’re the only one who saw someone die? What in God’s name do you think I’ve been doing for the past twenty-three years? A little kid gets torn in half by an SUV….a mother loses her baby to a kick in her stomach by her boyfriend? Do you even remember the accident on 78 that had me going all day long a few years ago? You were over in Nam for three years, and I’m sorry you had to see that, but goddamn it, Blake, you’re not the only one.”

“No, Mommy, please!” Alan looked at his mother, pleading. He hadn’t called her that since he was in fourth grade.

“No, Alan…he needs to know everything. And you need to know everything.” She was shaking, but continued, determined once and for all to help.

“You have no right!” Blake snapped at her. It was too much to bear. She grabbed her half-empty coffee mug and threw it against the sink, shattering it.

“I have no right? No, Blake. I have every right. If I didn’t love you, I’d have no right, but I do love you, damn it…And I’m sick of this!” She waved her arm at the two of them.

“Do you remember when you were little…I think you were in second grade…..” She looked out the back door, replaying the scene in her head.

“Bobby Fanning…Richie’s brother….set off a fire-cracker in the back yard.”

“No, Bernice…don’t,” Blake looked at her, his scowl turned to a sad frown. He looked out the back door as well. She looked at him, and while she didn’t ignore him, she went ahead and spoke anyway.

“You thought your father was angry at you and you cried all day because he pushed you down hard onto the ground.” Alan had already recalled the moment, and try as he might, he couldn’t avoid the tears that went along with the feeling of rejection.

“No, honey,” Bernice said, waving a broad gesture again toward the back yard.

“He wasn’t angry. I saw it all. The firecracker went off, and he pushed you down and at the same time, he turned his back on the sound, with Miriam in his arms. He wasn’t angry with you, honey. He was protecting you.” Bernice held back the tears, but Blake began to cry softly, almost a whimper.

“And all those times you heard him yelling at night? You though he was angry with me and you and your sister?”

“Bernice…please…no.” Blake looked at her and saw her resolve. He put his head down on his arms on the table, his face turned away from them both and began to sob.

“He was having nightmares. He still does.” She put her head on his back and began to stroke his hair. It was both painful and tender. She kissed him softly on his cheek and stood up once again, staring at Alan as he gasped.

“And your son?” She patted her husband on the back to get his attention. He turned his head to face them, his eyes red with tears; shame and fear still visited the Russell home.

“No, Mommy, please.” Another plea by a child’s voice, even if it was a sadly-hated tenor.

“No, honey…he needs to know. He’s your father, and he loves you.” She shook her head before grabbing his hand. She squeezed and smiled through her own tears.

“We knew that Jimmy had died the following day, because your father had heard from Jimmy Sr. Marie called me over while Daddy talked. She wanted to know what there was she could do for you. I didn’t understand right away. Looking back on your e-mails afterward I realized what I had been missing."

“’Bernice, are you okay?’ She was asking me if I was okay. I didn’t understand. She had just lost her son…her baby boy…and she was asking me, like I knew what was going on.”

“Mommy…please!” Alan pointed to his father. She shook her head no and continued, almost like when she would give Alan and his sister the horrible tasting cough medicine when they were little; for their own good.

“’Jimmy’s last message last night, Bernice! He was so excited about coming home, and how things would be for him and Allie.’” She choked up a bit at the end.

“Mommy….please?” By now Alan was crying. His father lifted his head a bit at looked at Bernice once again in question.

“’Allie?’ I said, like an idiot. I remember Miriam used to call you that all the time. You used to get so upset when she did and I thought it was because you were embarrassed. You just were afraid.” Bernice bit her lip, mostly from sadness, but guilt was playing a major if thankfully diminishing role in their talk that night.

“’My boy had it all planned out. He loved her, Bernice,’ she said to me! I thought he meant Miriam. We all knew how much he loved your sister!” She took a deep breath and stifled a sob. There was a need that she would express when she finished, but at that moment there was still too much ground to cover for her to give way to crying.

“I stared at her! ‘Of course he loved her,’ I said, but Marie smiled and put her hand on my arm.”

“Mommy!” Alan was nearly hysterical with fear and shame and grief. He mirrored his father’s pose and put his head down on the table on his arms and began to sob.

“No, baby…it’s time we all met!” She put her hand on his back and kneaded his shoulder.

“’You don’t know, do you, Bernice,’ Marie said to me. ‘Not Miriam…Allie…Jimmy…Oh, god, I thought you knew.’” Bernice shook her head, almost in chastisement for missing such an integral part of her child’s life.

“And I told her that I didn’t know, but even as I was telling her that I realized what she was saying. I should have seen it….’Mom…I’m so happy. I know what I’m supposed to do with my life,’ you said in your e-mails. ‘Mom…I feel so great.’ This is in the midst of a war and you’re telling me you’re happy?”

“I…I’m so sorry!’ Alan sobbed into his sleeve.

“No…I’m sorry. Miriam asked me once when you were about ten or so if Daddy and I didn't like girls. Of course I said no...of course we liked having a girl. I thought she meant her. We were so sure of what you were that we didn’t pay attention to who you were! So when Marie told me about Allie, it was like a light clicked in my head. But I couldn’t tell your father.” She said it almost like he wasn’t even in the room, even though he still sat there, sobbing.

“So I have the two of you. I love you both dearly, but I can’t keep this up. I feel like I’m in a circus and I’m spinning pie plates….something starts to slow down and it all looks like everything is going to come crashing down. You need to talk…you love each other, so there’s nothing either of you can say that should make a difference. This is your chance!” She sighed, hoping she was reaching then both.

“No…he won’t…it won’t work. I’m sorry.” Alan sobbed. He went to get up but felt a hand grab his arm; an unexpected gentle tug instead of a cruel demanding yank pulled him back down. He turned and saw his father look at him for the first time with a measure of acceptance. Blake shook his head, not in denial but in sorrow and regret. He pulled the young man closer to him and touched his face, still unable to speak.

“Dad?” A one word question that was vague at first hearing, but the nod by the older man gave everyone hope that things would change.

A few years later...

Hunterdon County Democrat — Wednesday, June 13, 2018:

Blake and Bernice Russell of Flemington, New Jersey are proud to announce that their daughter, Alison Miriam Russell-Cannizaro of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, has been accepted into the Doctorate of Nursing Education Program at Drexel University. Ms. Russell-Cannizaro holds a Master’s Degree in Nursing Education and a Master’s Degree as a Nurse Practitioner. She is an adjunct professor at Drexel University. She and her Life-partner, Dr. Regina Russell-Cannizaro, PsyD, PhD, are employed by the Health and Wellness Center of Ardmore, Pennsylvania.

Next: Helen's Tale