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“Ciao, Papà.”
The already stagnant silence becomes deathly still, and I can suddenly hear the beating of a heart—but it’s not mine, it’s Dixon’s.
Dixon’s father doesn’t stir. He continues gazing out the window, not appearing to even register his son’s presence.
Dixon runs a hand through his hair, fisting the longer locks tightly. “Papà, sono io. Your son.”
The desperation and the plea to be acknowledged are obvious in his voice, but sadly the plea falls on deaf ears. Dixon turns to look at me, appearing mortified by his father’s blatant disregard. Impulsively, I extend my hand. He peers down at it, surprised by the offering, but after a few seconds, he takes it loosely and smiles. I’m providing him with the strength he so often gives me.
He squeezes my fingers lightly before letting go. “Well, you said you wanted to meet my dad…” He sweeps his hand toward his motionless father, looking defeated. “Here he is.”
I realize I still haven’t said a word. But what can I say? Nothing I say will make any of this go away. So I say nothing at all.
Dixon slumps onto the small bed, cradling his face in his hands. I can only imagine how hard this is for him, so I give him some space.
I walk over toa small shelf, looking at the dusty photo frames sitting along the ledge. When I see the intelligent eyes of a young Pino Di Matteo staring back at me, I understand where Dixon got his brains from. However, when I move onto the next picture, I can see where Dixon got his looks from. Not that his father is unattractive, but his mother was a true beauty, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was Sophia Loren’s sister. With long black hair, sultry blue eyes, and a pinup model’s figure, she would have turned the heads of all the boys. But it was Pino Di Matteo who caught her eye. Not that it surprises me because his son has done the same to me. I continue gazing down the shelf, surprised not to see any pictures of Dixon. However, when a downturned frame catches my eye, I know whose picture sits in the wooden frame.
The gesture is symbolic in so many ways and that symbolism is not lost on Dixon. “I deserve that,” he says, cutting through the stillness of the room. “I left him here to rot.”
I turn over my shoulder to look at him. Wishing my first words had a little more meaning, I offer, “Maybe it fell over?” But we both know that’s not true.
Without thinking, I reach for the frame, unable to stomach the sad look on Dixon’s face a moment longer. However, I suddenly stop when, from the corner of my eye, I see Pino’s head shift. My hands are still mid-reach, but I can’t move. I’m totally entrancedby Pino as he turns slowly and locks those blue, soulful eyes with mine.
Pino is still a handsome man with a full head of thick gray hair and strong features akin to Dixon. “H-Hello, Mr. Di Matteo.” I turn to face him completely. “My name is Madison Roberts. I’m…I’m Dixon’s—” I look at Dixon, who lowers his eyes. “I’m Dixon’s girlfriend,” I declare softly. Dixon’s head snaps up, and just like that, his vulnerability is replaced with joy.
Yes, I may be quick to forgive, but this is exactly what I needed. I needed this from Dixon. I needed him to stop being so damn invincible and let me be the one who comforts him for a change.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I conclude before walking to Pino. I feel incredibly rude standing over him, so I bend down and give his smooth cheek a light kiss. I hope I haven’t crossed any lines, but he’s Italian, and I figure this is standard practice when saying hello.
His eyes are still pinned to mine when I pull away, but the look doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s studying every inch of my face.
“Your wife was very beautiful. What was her name?” I ask, hoping to make a connection.
He remains mute, however, and turns to look back out the window.
“Her name was Angela,” Dixon replies in place of his father. “And you’re right, she was very beautiful—inside and out.”
I nod.
The stony quiet returns, so I too look out the window, wondering what Pino’s view is like. His room overlooks a small veggie patch and greenhouse. With all the greenness and fertility,I can see why he’s so intrigued by the view.
“We used to have the most amazing veggie patch at home.” I jump, startled that Dixon is behind me, as I didn’t hear himmove. “It was my father’s pride and joy. He’d spend hours out there, tending to his garden. Wouldn’t you,Papà?”
Silence.
I know Dixon is trying, but his father appears to be as stubborn and headstrong as his son. Whatever issues they have, his father won’t easily forgive him.
By Dixon’s heavy sigh, he knows it too. “I’m sorry,Papà. I truly am. I messed up. I didn’t know what to do afterMammadied. It’s no excuse, but I’m here now. I want to make amends for the mistakes I’ve made.” With one final breath, he confesses, “I’ll keep trying until you forgive me.”
I bite my lip, his words reflecting our situation also.
But his father merely peers out the window. He could cuss him out, tell him what a disappointment of a son he is, but his silence speaks volumes. There is no greater punishment than silence.
Dixon doesn’t back down, however. He rounds his father’s chair and crouches down in front of him. “You can ignore me all you want,but I don’t give up on the people I love.” He meets my eyes briefly while my cheeks heat. “I learned that from you.Ciao, Papà.I’ll see you next week.” He slowly rises and bends forward to kiss his unmoved father on the brow. He brushes past me and exits without a word.
I’m left standing, incredibly touched by what I just witnessed. With Dixon’s words ringing loudly in my ears, I bid Pino farewell also. “Goodbye, Mr. Di Matteo. It was lovely meeting you.” I turn to leave but abruptly stop, as I’m unable to depart without letting him know how I feel. “Your son…he’s a good man. I hope you can see that again,” I whisper, totally out of line.
Just as I’m about to apologize for speaking on matters I have no right to be speaking about, I notice something which has me blinking twice. At first, I think the bright sunshine has distortedmy vision, but as I take a closer look, I see that what I’m witnessing is really there.
