Chapter 11 - Thanksgiving 2009

“Turn that down would you,” Prince said from upstairs.

Aaron looked at me and laughed, turning the volume up two or three more notches. The New York Giants were playing the Denver Broncos for their Thanksgiving matchup. Aaron wore his ‘lucky’ Giants hat, signed by the 1991 Super Bowl MVP and star Giants running back, Ottis Anderson.

I tried to tell him the hat should be framed and never worn again, but his superstition seemed to play a huge role in that decision.

“Prince is just upset that they never play Oakland Raiders games,” Aaron said, sliding

the bowl of chips higher on his chest.

            “I don’t blame him. The Cincinnati Bengals are having a rough go at it too,” I said as Denver scored their first touchdown.

Aaron threw his hands in the air and yelled, “Come on, play a little defense!” He twisted his hat to sit on his head backwards as if that would change the outcome.

“Bengals huh. Why?” Aaron asked as the game went to a commercial.

“If I chose someone like the Giants, you and four million other people could, at any point,

ask or tell me something about the team. Which would then put me in an embarrassing position because I really don’t care that much about sports.” I winked, feeling rather proud of myself.

“What about other Bengals fans?” Aaron sat up and placed the bowl of chips on the coffee table.

“I don’t normally find that many around here, and I don’t ever plan on being in Cincinnati, so I think I’ve got my bases covered.”

Aaron laughed, wagging his index finger at me. “Clever.”

“Oh no. Not a good start for your dwarfs Aaron,” Prince said with a laugh. He set a box down on the kitchen counter and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“I’m not worried, it’s only the first quarter.”

Prince leaned against the wall. “You’ll have to check the tv’s at the laundromat across the street. We have to be at Full Bellies in thirty minutes for the unveiling. Thanksgiving dinner is right after, too.” He took a sip of his beer and cringed backwards as a Giants receiver fumbled after being hit from the side.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can watch anyway,” Aaron said, frustration pouring from his face. He leaned forward to tie his shoes. “You ready Sal? Big day.”

“Yeah, I think it will be nice,” I said as I stood.

Full Bellies was closed off for the last week while Simeon Waldridge painted Malcolm on

the wall. It took months to talk Katrina into doing it. She said it would be too much to see his face every time she went to work. But eventually, myself and the other women at the soup kitchen helped her understand the concept.

            “He’ll be lifted up by angels at the head of the march Kat,” I had said, sitting in her living room having lunch.

            “That will just be a reminder that he’s dead.” Katrina balled her fists and shook them, teeth clinched.

            “Kat, don’t take this as insensitive, but you don’t need a picture of him on a mural to remember that he’s gone. This will be a reminder that he’s still here, watching over you and this community.” I wrapped my arms around her and let her sob into my chest, her body jerking.

            “Nice?” Prince said, shaking me back to reality. “This is going to be pretty special.”

            We walked to the door and slipped on our coats. “I know, it’s still hard to believe that just a few months ago Malcolm was happy, walking down the street to get money for the movies. The next second, he’s lying on the ground dead from a random drive-by.”

            Prince and Aaron shook their heads in understanding as we walked onto the front porch.

The air bit the skin on my face and I turned away, walking backwards for a moment. “It shouldn’t be this cold in November,” I said, squeezing the coat around my neck. “Who’s picking up your mother?”

“Dad’s on his way there now and the hospital is going to transport them,” Aaron said as we climbed into the car.

I had watched Mary-ann over the last several months quickly slip into stage five of Alzheimer's. Though she was still able to use the restroom independently, there was significant confusion and she struggled to recall even some of the simplest of details. Allan agreed to keep her in the Rehabilitation Ward, but spent most of his time there with her.

“It will be nice for her to be out and about don’t you think?” I asked.

“Yep,” Aaron said, toying with the radio. And the Giants go into the second quarter down

fourteen to nothing.

            “I tried to tell you Aaron, this is not their year,” Prince said, making a left-hand turn. “You could turn that hat inside out and where it as a shoe, and they still aren’t going to win.”

            I couldn’t help but laugh, which resulted in a mean glance from Aaron. He turned the radio up so loud I thought the windows might blow. Thankfully it only took five minutes to get there. The street was flooded with people in heavy jackets, gloves and winter hats.

            Katrina stood in the middle of the crowd. Maxine and Alise stood beside her and Sharice sat bundled in her wheelchair, a scarf around her neck making it difficult to see her face. I gave them each a hug and stood next to Kat, putting my arm around her waist and pulling her close to me.

            “How are you feeling?” I ask, immediately regretting it. For years I’ve hated that question. To feel is such a personal emotion, not something that can be easily explained. It’s like a friend who goes on vacation and comes back with hundreds of photographs. Anyone can hop on google and look at images of a beautiful location, but that doesn’t have the same effect as actually being there.

            Kat looked over at me with a gentle expression and forced a smile. “I believe you when you say this will be good. I’m a little anxious to see what he’s done, but there is some excitement there.”

            Smiling back, I said, “That’s great to hear.” I squeezed her again and siren went off as an ambulance turned onto the street. “That must be Allan and Mary-ann.”

            The door opened and Mary-ann was lowered to the ground in her wheelchair. Dozens of people clapped and shouted ‘mama,’ as Allan rolled her over to us. “Almost didn’t make it,” Allan said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Nurse Benson and Dr. Imish had to be brought to her room just to convince her we weren’t going to harm her. She nearly lost it again when she felt how cold it was, and there was an accident on ninety-second.”

            “But you’re here,” I said, clapping him on the back. He nodded his head and smiled, resituating his hat.

            “Hello darling,” Sharice said, leaning forward.

            Allan bent forward and pointed. “Mary-ann. Look, Sharice is here.”

            “Who?” she said, trying to follow his finger. Alise loosened the scarf around her mother’s neck and it fell away from her face.

            “Sharice dear. Your best friend. The women that you opened Full Bellies with.” Allan pointed again, sharing a compassionate smile.

            “You know it was you that gave me the name for this place. Do you remember Allan. I went running in the next day to--” Mary-ann paused and put a gloved finger to her chin. “What was I saying.” Her hand fell back to her lap. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”

            “It’s alright honey,” he whispered, rubbing her shoulders. “Where are Prince and Aaron?”

            I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe across the street watching the game. Although with how bad the Giants are playing, we may have heard Aaron yelling from over here.”

            Allan narrowed his brow. “You better watch what you say about the Giants.” He snickered and punched me on the arm.

            “Alright, alright,” I laughed. “Oh, there’s Prince,” I said, pointing over by the building.

            “That’s right, Simeon asked if they would help pull down the cover.” Allan locked the wheels with his foot and asked if I would stand with Mary-ann while he stepped away.

            “I’m glad we are in the middle of all these people or I’d be frozen solid by now,” I said

Katrina laughed in agreement. “It should only be a couple more minutes.”

The last of the people piled into the road, about a hundred in total. Simeon walked midway up a ladder and held a megaphone to his face. “I want to thank you all for coming out this afternoon for the reveal.” The crowd cheered loudly, sending clouds of breath into the air. “When my father started this mural, I was eight years old. I knew that there was nothing else I wanted to do with my life than create, but I promised myself that I would only create things that really meant something.”

I could feel Katrina shivering, though not from the cold.

“Although this addition is because of a loss, the loss of someone far too young, far too brave and someone that could have truly made a difference in this world, I know that with this, we can honor Malcolm and all the great things he would have done.” More cheers rippled through the crowd. “Kat,” he said, the crowd turning their gaze to her. “We’ve known each other a long time. I hope that what I’ve done will bring a smile back your face and begin to fill the emptiness that was left behind.”

Simeon stepped down, set the megaphone aside, and stood in the middle of the covering. Grabbing it with both hands, Aaron, Simeon and Prince pulled away the tarp.  The crowd lulled at a rumbling murmur as they looked at the wall. Katrina gently bounced up and down, tears pouring down her face.

Malcolm wore a black suit and red bowtie. He faced the other figures, a huge smile on his face as the faint outline of a pair of angels carried him into the clouds above. His arms were outstretched, and beneath his left arm read the words, don’t ever stop pushing forward.

It was remarkable.

The crowd erupted, waving their hands and shouting ‘Malcolm,’ the echo dancing off the wind and carrying into the sky. Joining in, I lifted Katrina up with me, her laughter taking over her tears.

As we settled, Aaron announced that the food was ready.

The crowd moved aside as I pushed Mary-ann toward the door. The room was lined with tables and chairs, leaf and turkey decorations hung from the ceiling, and the smell of cornbread and gravy attacked every inch of my nose.

“Do they need help in the kitchen?” Mary-ann asked as I rolled her to the end of a table.

“I think they have everything under control,” I said, unzipping her coat and pulling the gloves off her hands.

“Sharice doesn’t want to sit at this table?” I asked Katrina, looking over at Alise who was locking her mother’s wheels.

“She said it’s too hard. She doesn’t want all of this being her last memory of her best friend.” Katrina unfolded a napkin and set in on Mary-ann’s lap.

“Who are you again?” Mary-ann asked. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Yes. I’m Sal Pitello. A friend of the family, and I’m writing a story about you.” I smiled and held her hand.

“A story. That’s wonderful. Did I ever tell you about how this place got its name?” Her face brightened, her smile filling her lips.

“Yes, you have,” I said, squeezing her hands gently, then letting them fall onto her lap.

“I have what?” she said, tilting her head sideways.

Katrina made quick eye contact with me and frowned, looking back at Sharice.

“I’m going to get you a plate,” I said, walking to the counter.

Mary-ann sat quietly for most of the evening, conversations spiraling around her and the noise in the room crashing in like waves.

Katrina found me much later, throwing her arms around my neck and thanking me for all my support. I offered to walk her home, a four-block trek in the freezing cold. When we arrived at her apartment, we parted ways with a kiss and, at least for me, a smile that stuck to my lips even after I closed my eyes to sleep.