Chapter 14: Father Knows Best

Feeling hopeless for the first time since Katrina's death scare, Mark decides to seek help from the best source he can find.

Just two afternoons after the breakup, I eventually grow tired of moping about the house and leave to get a little fresh air into my system. I aimlessly drive my Packard around Kicksburg for a while, taking in the scenery I haven't truly observed for years, and even getting a look at some details I've never noticed before, despite living here all my life. I do all this for an hour or so before thoughts about my current predicament start to creep back into my brain.

At this point I'm left with no choice but to confront my problems head-on, unless I'm willing spend the rest of my life in pure, unadulterated misery. I could simply return home and talk it up with Vladik over a few drinks, but then he'd probably ramble on and on about his own personal experiences and take forever to get to the point. So instead I make a sudden left turn and head for the outskirts of town, where my guardian angels reside. If anyone can help dig me out of this hole, it's them.

The place I arrive at is none other than the Kicksburg Cemetery, the final resting place of many residents from throughout the centuries. Finding my parents' shared grave isn't hard at all. It's in the very center of the lawn, and a medium-sized statue of them dancing is positioned on top of the tombstone, with an impressive amount of detail sculpted into it. Seeing how this is a last-minute decision, I haven't brought anything with me, but knowing them, they probably couldn't care less. Without wasting another moment, I sit cross-legged in front of the grave and take a deep breath.

"Hey, Mom... hey, Dad. First of all, how're you guys doing? It's... definitely been a while since we last spoke. About a year and a half, I think?" I begin. "Anywho, life's been good on my end... for the most part anyway. Can you believe I'm approaching thirty? Cause I can't either."

I briefly look around to see if anyone's nearby, feeling a quick pang of relief at the realization that the cemetery is empty.

"Anyways, why don't I just cut to the chase? See, I'm kinda' between a rock and hard place, for lack of less cliché words…"

With that, I take the time to fully vent about my situation, not leaving out a single detail. The whole tirade takes me a good five to seven minutes to wrap up.

"Most people would just tell me to move on, but this time it's different. All my previous breakups weren't caused by lies! I have to redeem myself! Even if I can't get her back, at least she should know what's really going on here!" I finish. "You know how when you're a kid, and whenever something goes wrong, your legal guardians always say that everything will be okay? And how it never occurs to you that they might not know how to solve the problem themselves? Well now I'm the grown-up in this situation, and even so, I'm lost beyond belief."

I lightly shut my eyes and "listen" for answers, while also doing some thinking of my own. At this point, I know that the right thing to do is to somehow get through to Katrina so I can tell her what really happened. But the question is, how should I go about it? She's most likely still sore at me for supposedly cheating on her, and probably won't listen to anything she deems an excuse. Instead, she may just rub salt, lime juice, and cayenne pepper on the fresh, raw wounds in my heart. If only I could find someone who knows their way around her emotions and could teach me a thing or two. Maybe a family member? I quickly rule out Priscilla, seeing how I don't trust her with anything anymore. Meanwhile, their mother has Alzheimer's and definitely won't be of much use. So my only option left would be... their father.

---

I quickly stand up as soon as the idea pops into my head, proceeding to leave the cemetery without a farewell. I've finally decided to tell Alfonzo the truth and ask him how to get through to his daughter, so I can finally set things right. It can only be a matter of time before Katrina possibly tells him her false side of the story, potentially ridding me of his respect or even making me a scorn-target among Kicksburg's small population.

I make the ten minute drive over to Vicciotelli's and pull up to the curb, where I ask the driver to bring it to the valet lot. This afternoon, the restaurant has no line leading up to it, and there's no longer a maitre'd waiting at the front door, replaced with a large sign that reads "Free Seating! Sit Down Wherever There's Room!". As I step through the open doorway into the air-conditioned restaurant, the first thing that catches my eye is the large, framed photograph of Katrina's immediate family, directly across from where I stand, with all four faces staring directly at me - almost as if they're engaging in an act of mockery.

Has that picture ALWAYS been placed there? I think to myself. I could've sworn it was somewhere else the FIRST two times I came here.

I step all the way in, finding that a surprising amount of tables are unoccupied. To both my relief and horror, Alfonzo is indeed at work today, and is currently working behind the bar, looking away from the door as he lightly grazes the shelves of alcohol bottles with a feather-duster. "Scenes From An Italian Restaurant" by Billy Joel is currently playing on the radio, and a marathon of all the Rocky films is being aired on the flatscreen.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the bar, trying my best to adopt a pleasant facial expression. Alfonzo hears the pronounced and slightly echoey clops of my Converse sneakers on the waxed wooden floors, immediately turning around and adopting a much more genuine smile than the one I currently have.

"Ah, Signore Simmons! What brings you here?" he asks. "Need a break from mi bambina for a bit, eh?"

"Er... you could say that, I guess," I reply, climbing onto one of the wooden barstools.

I take a deep but subtle breath as I sit down, deciding to bring up something else first and methodically ease my way into the desired subject matter.

"So, uh, I notice the business seems to be slow. Are you doing alright?" I comment.

"Not to worry. If anything, the business has skyrocketed since my daughters came here. Priscilla just mentioned the restaurant on Twitter, or Instagram, or whatever the gioventú use these days," Alfonzo explains. "And since she's an award-winning actress, of course that helped! Things may seem quiet now, but trust me, the line will be back at dinnertime!"

"Good to hear," I reply. "Now, uh, mind if I bother you for a martini?"

"Of course, of course!" Alfonzo replies. "I'll even put it on the house because of the good you have done for my family."

I take a few seconds to comprehend that last sentence, which tugs incessantly at my heart-strings. The fact that he has willingly decided to tell me such things makes me slightly reconsider telling him about what has occurred. In less than a minute, my drink is prepared and lands in front of me after briefly sliding across the counter.

"Now about you," Alfonzo says, going back to his previous task. "Something's clearly on your mind. What would that be? I am all ears."

Before responding, I take a sip of my beverage, momentarily letting the strong, transparent alcohol cascade down my esophagus, and taking notice of the fact that my martini has exactly four olives floating in it. To buy myself some time and get my thoughts organized during this potentially contentious discussion, I decide to eat them sparingly and only devour one whenever I feel the need to pause.

"Well, uh..." I begin. "It's... It's about Katrina."

"I'll admit she was a handful growing up. Almost tied with Pietro," Alfonzo replies, not reciprocating my eye-contact as he polishes a flute-glass. "What has she done this time?"

"Well, actually nothing, really," I reply. "But I've recently decided that I want to marry her..."

"...And you want my permission, yes? You mustn't be silly, Mark! I would be all for it!" Alfonzo replies, cutting me off.

"Well, that's great. But, I... I..." I reply, proceeding to eat one of my olives. "...I may have upset her. See, there was a bit of a misunderstanding between us, and it led to our first fight. And now she's moved into one of the guest rooms and will hardly talk to me."

"Don't we all run into those?" Alfonzo asks in reply. "But may I ask what exactly this misunderstanding was?"

Even though I already made the decision to spill everything about the incident, I end up chickening out slightly and decide to fabricate a story, though not completely, since it did actually happen.

"Oh, well..." I begin, eating another olive. "...Uh, Priscilla was hanging out at the manor with us, and since Katrina wasn't right by us at the moment, she asked me to rub sunscreen on her back. Then Katrina came back outside and saw me doing so, and now she thinks I might be cheating on her."

"Well, are you?" Alfonzo asks.

"Not at all, sir," I reply.

"Well then why do you look so shaken?" Alfonzo finally returns my eye-contact, switching to a more serious tone. "If it wasn't your fault, then what is wrong? Are you only partially telling the truth? It is unwise to drown your sorrows in martinis, you know."

I have to stop talking for a second. Could Alfonzo be on to me, and growing suspicious about my relationship with his daughter? Has Katrina told him everything after all? If so, is he just waiting for me to crack before he takes action? Or is he just trying to settle this professionally and ask for both sides of the story? I take a nervous glance at the last two olives in my glass, wanting so badly to ingest one and take the next minute or so to summon a reply, yet wanting to save it for just a bit longer. However, I can do neither as he pulls the glass away from me.

"No! Enough drinking!" he says. "Are you lying to me? I will not ask again!"

I can do nothing more than take a deep breath.

"No, sir. I am not," I reply. "However, I am asking you this, because you know your daughter better than I do. And I've honestly never run into this issue with any other relationship."

"Well my advice to you is just to be calm and honest, and encourage her to do the same. It should to the trick. It's worked like a charm ever since she started speaking," Alfonzo replies. "Does that help any?"

"Yes, it does!" I reply, accompanied by a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Vicciotelli! It really means a lot!"

"Any time, any time," Alfonzo replies, waving me goodbye as I exit, now in much higher spirits.

---

When I arrive back at Simmons Manor, it's already mid-sunset. My good buzz has worn off slightly, knowing that the hard part of actually getting Katrina back still has yet to be accomplished. I take a deep breath and enter the house, where I am greeted by Vladik, who is sitting on the couch in the foyer, a mug of chamomile tea in his hand as he stares at the fireplace.

"Good evening, sir," he says. "Any particular reason why you were gone so long?"

"Just checking on all the businesses," I reply, even though it's an outright lie.

Thankfully, he calls my bluff and glances back towards the crackling fire, but then looks back at me.

"And just in case you're looking for Katrina, she's in one of the guest rooms, no doubt arguing with her sister again," Vladik continues.

I say nothing for a moment, remembering that I never notified him of what recently transpired between the three of us.

"Thanks," I reply, heading into the first-floor hallway that contains the guest suites.