What Is He?
Ah, yes, Trocco’s. I grew up eating good food and appreciated more of the same every opportunity I got. Della’s a polar opposite, with a distinct preference for junk food to go with those ever-present Diet Cokes of hers. She liked Trocco’s, though, and usually found something she could eat there.
Trocco’s is about a block from our office, so we ended our day early and found ourselves a nice little table near the window. Della can see a little bit, given the correct lighting conditions. I doubted she be able to see the menu, but seeing me was a definite advantage here.
Antonette Trocadero was a small, gray-haired woman, but ruled the restaurant with an iron hand. She burst into quiet conversation with her hulking husband, Joseph, the minute we came in. She waited until we’d been properly seated and given water before sidling up to our table. “So,” she began, in her sing-song, foreign-born English. “You see somebody today?”
I gestured to an empty seat. “Yes,” I said as Antonette sat down. “We were paid a visit by Mr. Carlini this afternoon.”
“You know me,” Antonette continued. “You my favorite customers. I don’t ask for nothing usually. Is not my business. But, Dave, he’s special. I hope you don’t mind.” Actually, Antonette would have sent Dave to us whether or not we minded. She rarely interfered with our affairs, but when she did she made sure we followed through. She also made sure we were paid. She was a business woman and understood things like that.
Della turned her head in the direction of Antonette’s voice. “I’ll help if I can,” she said. “He sounded pretty broken up, though. He didn’t say much. I’m sorry to hear about his wife. That sounds awful.”
Antonette shook her head and a sadness lowered her shoulders. “I know David from when he was a kid. My husband and his dad, they grew up together in Italy. They give us money to start this place.” She waved a hand around, proudly. “Dave and Maria been married 20 years now. They got three kids.” I was sure Joe and Antonette had catered the wedding and every major life event since then. “I made David come to you, Della. He’s feeling so terrible. But he got to go on. Maria got to go on. Or as long as she can, huh?”
I saw a puzzled expression on Della’s face, one that matched my own. “As long as she can?” Della asked.
“He no tell you?” Antonette asked, surprised. When we indicated that this was the case, she sighed and hunkered close to the two of us. “He got to get used to this,” she said in low, painful tones. “Dave’s wife, she got cancer. Now this.”
Della sat back in her chair, digesting this new information. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Does he blame himself for the accident?” she asked.
A look of disgust came over Antonette’s face. She waved a hand, dismissively. “His sister…stupid! They lookin’ for someone to blame.” I felt a slight roiling in my gut. We were about to be involved a family fight. I didn’t want to take sides, as Antonette clearly had. It was not my battle, nor was it Della’s. “Don’t you listen to her,” Antonette continued. “You just talk to Maria. She don’t blame him for nothin’.”
“Antonette,” Della asked, interrupting an oncoming tirade. “Do you know what happened, exactly?”
“This is how I heard it,” the older woman replied. “David was driving and then something happened. He said he don’t remember after that.”
“Did he black out or something?” I asked.
“No! That can’t be!” Antonette insisted. “He didn’t have so much to drink.”
To drink? Della and I sat quietly. I don’t think either one of us wanted this conversation. I knew I didn’t.
“Maybe it’s shock, you know?” Antonette continued, sensing our disquiet. “You know, he saved her life. He came to and dragged her out of the car. A minute later the car…boom!” She raised a finger at me, the only one who could see it. “And I tell you something else. He saved her life before. Got her to the hospital, started on chemo. No one else believed she was sick. He’s no killer. He’s a miracle man.”
A miracle man. I looked around for a menu, although my appetite had completely vanished. Antonette stood up, the chair legs scraping against the tile floor with a harsh and grating sound. She grabbed our menus. “You’re getting the house special, because you’re helping the miracle man. Joe!” she called out to her husband, who snapped to attention. “They gettin’ the veal scallopini. You find a good wine for Maggie and I’m gonna’ get Della her drink.” She turned back to us. “Don’t you go listening to Anna when you talk to Maria. She’ll tell you terrible things. Don’t you listen to her.” She walked off towards the kitchen.
Joseph Trocadero walked to the table and poured a libation. “You like?” he asked. I raised the glass and sipped. The wine was clean and smooth, with a delicate after-taste. Yes, I liked. I nodded and he filled the glass, then turned his attention to another table.
I took a swig. It’s not an appropriate thing to do with fine wine, but I needed a good belt around then. “At this rate,” Della said. “I’m going to start drinking, too. Good lord in heaven. I love Joe and Antonette, but they’ve just thrown us to the wolves.”
“Maybe we should start with the doctor,” I suggested. “Neutral territory. We’re stuck with this, aren’t we?”
“You know Antonette,” Della replied. “So, one person says this guy’s a hero, an angel, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Another one says he basically drank himself into a car crash that blinded his already-sick wife.”
“Which is it, I wonder?”
Della shrugged and accepted a Diet Coke from a young waiter. “Do you really want to know? Either way, the wife’s the one that needs the help. We’ll just focus on that.”
I didn’t really want to know. Our orders arrived and we ate quietly. The food was good enough to bring back my appetite, although the wine was the main mood-enhancer, at least given my mood. Family fights could get ugly. I didn’t want to be anywhere near it, but we were committed.
A waiter walked by and dropped a bill at our table. Seconds later, Antonette scooped it up and crumbled it in a work-reddened hand. “On the house,” she declared. “And one more thing?” We both looked up, waiting. “Don’t be worried if the police show up at Maria’s when you there, okay? Just ignore them.”
