Previously...Martino and Tirchio Italian Bakery...sometime in the future...
 

“They seem to be pretty happy…more fun than I ever remember them having.” He turned to the woman who shook her head before pointing to the bulletin board. Al stepped closer and peered at the paper that had garnered so much attention moments before. His eyes widened as he read,

To honor Al’s memory, Martino and Tirchio Italian Bakery will be closed until next Monday. I’d really appreciate some company at the funeral since Fredo has been a decent kid with us, but I understand if you don’t want to attend. Al gave us all jobs, and that’s pretty good in a recession, but do what you think is best. Signed, Lou Abendando, Shop Steward, IBT 917

“What? I don’t understand?” He mewled. The woman shook her head and pointed to a newspaper clipping.

…Alphonso “Al” Tirchio, 68, of Staten Island, President and founder of Martino and Tirchio Italian Bakery…

Al turned to the spirit; almost pleading. She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears once again.

“Tell me this doesn’t have to happen. Tell me I can fix things with me…I gotta be able to do something that….I’ve been such a fucking stubborn bastard. I can change. Really…I can. There must be something I can do.” He fell to the ground and knelt in front of the woman; his arms wrapped around her legs.

“Please…I’ll do anything….Dear god in heaven I’ll do anything!” Things began to fade again, and as Al seemed to slip out of conciousness, he noticed something peculiar that escaped his attention...the young woman Spirit looked very familiar, but in his haze he couldn't figure out just whom the Spirit resembled....

---

 
Al awoke to the sound of a loud clack followed by Brenda Lee rocking around a Christmas tree. A quick scan of the clock radio revealed the time to be seven in the morning; a determination that was attested to by the bright light streaming through the bedroom window.

“I…I’m alive…in my own bedroom! I’m alive.” Al ran over to the bedroom window and threw it open, revealing the facing window of the house next door. Running downstairs seemed to be an odd and unfamiliar affair, but Al managed it, flinging open the front door and shouting at a kid passing the house on his bike as he delivered newspapers.

“Hey…kid?”

“Yeah?” The boy stopped short and fell off the seat onto the frame of the bike; not quite but almost harming himself.

“What day is it?” The kid looked at Al in a much more than quizzical expression before answering.

“It’s Christmas!” The boy shook his head before hopping back onto the seat and pedaling off before Al could ask him anymore questions.

“I haven’t missed it…the Spirits did it all in one night…of course they did…that’s what they do.” Al said softly to himself. His overall outlook on life had changed due to the intervention of someone or something much larger than the life of Alphonso Tirchio. A second later Al was bounding up the stairs two at a time toward the bedroom.

I’ll begin anew
I’ll rebuild my life
Now I finally know
How to live my life

I’ll begin right now
No more wasting time
Now I realize
Waste is such a crime
I will grab the chance
That’s been given me
I’ll do all I can
See all those I can see
I will live for now
Live for one and all
Give up everything
So I can give my all

After changing into something more appropriate than pajamas, Al got into the car in the driveway and sped off, heading toward the Goethals Bridge. And a few more minutes after that, the car was headed north up US 1.

A short time later...Kearny, New Jersey...

“Becca, would you get the door?” Tichia called from the kitchen as the doorbell rang.

“Sure thing, Mom!” The woman hopped off the couch and pulled on her robe before heading to the door.

“Hello? Oh…” Her eyes widened as she recognized her spouse’s employer. She held open the door and gestured for Al to enter the home.

“Merry Christmas,” Becca said, but received no reply other than a nod as Roberta came walking down the hall followed by Nina. She stopped short, surprised to see her boss standing in her mother’s living room on Christmas morning.

Turning back finally to Becca, Al smiled and nodded once again and spoke.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, and of course, to my favorite person in the whole wide world.” The hyperbole would have been surprising enough, but even more so as Al looked around.

“There you are.” All eyes focused on the little girl sitting on the couch, wrapped in a green comforter and holding a teddy bear.

“Kaylee, right?” Roberta nodded, wondering how Al actually managed to remember her daughter’s name.

“Yes it is.” The girl said with a smile. She herself showed no surprise at all, acting as if she was the center of attention of someone other than her family all the time.

“I…I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas in person, and give you all something, if that’s okay?”

“That’s….you don’t have to…” Roberta was completely at a loss for words; nothing that Al could say would explain the sudden but welcome behavior they were witnessing. She put her hand out as if to turn down whatever was about to be offered. Al would have none of it and simply held out an envelope. Roberta stood and stared, and Becca stepped up, accepting the envelope.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. She knew enough of the infamous Tirchio neglect and disdain to realize something had changed for the better, no matter what the envelope held.

“Open it…go ahead.” A very eager and excited encouragement. Becca carefully opened the flap with her index finger. A Christmas card which looked as if it had languished in the back of bottom drawer in a desk for some time after purchase, but still an nice picture of a cottage with a snow covered roof and smoke wafting out of the chimney. Becca opened the card. Her hand went quickly to her face and she began to cry.

“It’s just a beginning, but I hope it will help. I plan on doing whatever I can for your sweet little girl.”

“I…This is…” Becca choked up. She held out the card to Roberta, who went to grab it. Becca let go of the card but it fell to the floor along with a piece of paper that fluttered down to land in front of Roberta’s feet. A check. She picked it up and gazed at it before looking up at her boss; her eyes were filled with tears and she smiled at the return nod that indicated she wasn’t just seeing things.

“Mom? What’s going on?” The voice came from the hallway. Pauly stood staring with sightless eyes, his head tilted slightly to one side, as if he was tuning in on the conversation, which at that point consisted more of sobs and tearful laughter than words. Nina rushed to his side and wagged her tail as she banged against his thighs gleefully.

“I’m….there’s only so much…” As Al’s eyes filled with tears, Roberta nodded, understanding that some things just cannot be undone. But some things can be made to be better; no matter how badly they began.

“I want to pay for your education, young man. Every bit of it. I seem to remember your mother saying that you wanted to become a therapist? To help people? Perhaps you and I can have a talk with your parents here when it gets closer to applications and all that?”

“There is a catch.” Roberta looked sideways at Al, expecting the worst. Becca just kept crying. Her mother-in-law had joined them and was rubbing Becca’s back. She noticed what seemed to be a twinkle in her daughter’s employer’s eyes, and she smiled back.

“I only ask that you forgive me for being such a fool and such a mean-spirited person all these years? Can you find it in your hearts?” No other words would need to be said as Roberta held out her arms and beckoned. A hug; the first of several over the course of the next few days, but one that would set the tone for the remainder of a life…

I will grab the chance
That’s been given me
I’ll do all I can
See all those I can see
I will live for now
Live for one and all
Give up everything
So I can give my all

---

Sometime later that day...Carteret, New Jersey...

“Everybody’s here already. I wonder who that could be.” Angela said as she headed to the front door at the sound of a soft knock.

“Am I too late for dinner?” Al stood in the doorway; the proverbial but figurative hat in hand. Angela nodded before her arms widened for a hug.

“Oh, I….I wasn’t expecting you. What a nice surprise.” Fredo stammered at the shock of seeing Al standing there. And Al was surprised beyond any expectation at Fredo’s comment.

“You’re just in time. Mom was just taking the baccala off the table; the turkey and the lobster ravioli are almost done, but you’re welcome to some fish while we wait.” Baccala was never one of Al’s favorites, and the lobster ravioli was too rich if very good. It wasn’t the food that surprised but the one preparing the meal along with Angela. A voice interrupted the moment as a tall man of about Al’s age walked into the house with a grocery bag in his hands; it always surprised everyone how Enrico Attanasio was still strikingly handsome and tall at nearly sixty-seven years old.

“She still makes the best calamari, wouldn’t you say?” The voice and the face were warm and friendly as Ricky smiled at his erstwhile extended family member.

“Ye….yes.” Al nodded. Something magical indeed had transpired overnight, and it wasn’t just with Al’s life. It was almost as if bygones truly had become bygones, as the old saying goes. Another friendly face beamed as Mary wiped her hands with a kitchen towel before she hugged Al. A kiss on both cheeks was followed with a soft whisper.

“Si, Chi avrebbe mai pensato? Dolce Sorella?”

“Who would have thought, indeed? And who calls themselves a sweet sister?” Al thought, but the question would pale in comparison to the confusion and wonder that came as Mary continued.

“We were young and we were friends a long time ago. And it never seemed we’d ever be friends again. But you…you changed. Just like my Ricky’s heart changed…. Your heart is so much different now, cara mia? I’m so happy.” Mary’s eyes filled with tears. What was she talking about? Nothing had changed until that very morning.

“I had a dream….when I was under when I had the operation.”

Mary had finally gotten to the point where she was no longer ashamed, and she resisted the urge to gaze downward. No longer fearful and in need to justify her becoming a woman since she finally accepted along with everyone who knew and loved her that she indeed was a woman all along, even if she did start out as Marco Perillo. Al and the others stared at her as she continued.

“An angel or a messenger…almost like a ghost…spirito? Came to me and told me that everything would be alright, si?” They all nodded even though they didn’t quite know where she was going.

“And it’s only now…in our old age that I can tell you that the ghost looked just like you when we were younger…the age when I had the operation…I think I was twenty-four?” She knew the age, but she wanted Al to recall just what was going on at that time.

“But for one big detail, Si?” Al looked at her and she looked back, using her hand as a gesture toward her once and finally restored best friend.

“In my dream you were as you are now. I know that you loved me, but it was not to be, but I never knew just how much you were like me, dolce sorella? Si?” There was those words again…’sweet sister,’ and ‘yes?’ What did she mean? Al turned his head as if to regain some modicum of composure and noticed the mirror hanging by the side table near the door. A reflection blinking back that shocked and surprised and didn’t surprise at all. Staring back at Al was his near twin; near twin because the person in the mirror looked just like Al’s sister…if he had ever had one. It was only just then that he realized that the person staring back at him WAS him…or rather her.

“Tirchio…” that voice had called to him and spoke to him and moved him. The Spirit that not only cried for the families they witnessed but also cried for Al… for the wasted life; misspent in self-hatred and shame. The shame barely covered over with the cracked veneers of anger and mistrust and self-doubt. Something had changed in their time together and Al finally realized just who the Spirit had resembled.

“When you came to me and cried, it was like I was able to believe finally that my best friend had hope. That the fear we both shared and that you held onto was finally gone,” Mary said, touching Al’s face.

“And I...I…remember you held my hand.”

Even as Al spoke the voice sounded odd; a tremble of humility rather than the former stammer of self-loathing and hatred. The timbre was relaxed and the pitch was higher somehow and the tone was almost soothing, like the soft words of a favorite grandmother reading a bedtime story.

“Alphonso…ready for a fight, but it was always with yourself!” Ricky laughed softly.

“And look at you now…Alessia….” Fredo put his arms around his….Aunt.

“Defender!” Mary clapped her hands and joined her son-in-law in hugging the woman.

“A…lessia….”

“And you changed your last name….you took your mother’s maiden name, right? Abbondante!” The voice sounded oddly familiar, but still it was foreign if pleasant; a memory that she never quite had experienced before but reached back into her past just then.

“Pietro?” She found herself asking a question that seemed to not require an answer. The old man walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“Alessia…I’m so glad I came. Have you thought about what I asked?”

She looked at the man and the familiarity grew even as the old faded from view. The same feelings that stirred so long ago and pushed her just the opposite into a life she never really wanted for herself became alive once again in that moment. The old man kissed her with a little more energy and zest; a seventy-one year old with the vitality of a young man in love. Alessia Abbondante…Living again…Beginning again...

I will make sure
That my tale comes to conclusion
That a giving and receiving life
Is no longer an illusion
And I'll thank the world
And remember when
I was able to begin again
I'll begin again!

I'll Begin Again
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9IORkMgYp8