Page 6 of Loss and Damages
It's my misfortune the buildings my father’s had his eyes on for the past two years house hundreds of rent-stabilized units and evicting the tenants will cause a major disruption in the city.
“Now, let’s not get hasty,” Mayor Wilkins says, waving me back into my chair. “We can at least talk this through.”
“There’s nothing to talk through. I can buy the buildings off Pitts if he’s willing, but the land won’t mean jack shit if you forbid the zoning committee to allow me to raze the complexes and build anew. Look,” I say, setting my briefcase on the table and pulling out a plastic tube. I unroll the plans and use the candles and glass containers of grated parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes to anchor the corners. “A high-rise, fifty floors of luxury apartments. The cheapest will go for a million dollars. The penthouse?” I say, pointing to the top of the watercolor rendering of the building, “Ten million dollars. In addition to the apartments, the building will be equipped with everything a resident could ever need. A salon and spa, a state-of-the-art workout facility, a pool, pet sitters. I’m in talks to secure the blocks surrounding the land and Milano Management and Development will build shopping and upscale dining. You may piss off a lot of people, Mayor, but in three years’ time, when all this has reached fruition, you’ll be given credit for your vision, for adding value to St. Charlotte.”
“How far along are these talks?” Pitts asks. If he stares at these plans any longer, he’s going to start drooling.
Pitts and the mayor dragging their heels has become a roadblock, and I decide to tell them the truth. “They would go better if I had the land secured. The rent-controlled apartments, as they are right now, bring down the value of the neighborhood. They know I won’t be interested in building around yourapartment complexes. As soon as the sale is complete, everything else will click into place.”
“What about the tenants?” Wilkins asks, helping himself to more coffee. He won’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t want to show me he cares about the families inhabiting the rent-controlled apartments, most of them having lived in that building for generations.
Not only will I be stealing affordable housing, I’ll be ending decades of family tradition, destroying memories and childhood homes. But I’ll also be eradicating a crime-ridden area where druggies and prostitutes lurk on the streets and creating a safe neighborhood where people won’t feel threatened walking alone in the dark.
“We’ll give them plenty of notice, six months, to find something else. We’re putting up new apartment buildings on the south side of the city near shopping malls, fast food restaurants, and the large Stafford Health hospital. I’d be willing to offer vouchers giving them the first three months rent-free if they sign a year-long lease when they relocate.”
“How comparable is the rent?” Pitts can’t tear his eyes away from the high-rise artwork. I admit the artist surpassed even my expectations.
“Comparable.” My gaze doesn’t waver.
“How comparable?” he presses.
“It won’t be your concern, Pitts.” I stand and roll up the rendering. I could leave it, tease them a little, but it will be more fun to bring it with me. I show the card I have waiting up my sleeve. “If you don’t want to sell, I can look to the other side of the river. Either work with me, and we all win, or I’ll find a way to get what I want that doesn’t include you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I lost my brother and his wake is tonight. I’ll send Jimmy in to see to your needs. Please stay for lunch on my tab.”
Jimmy meets me in the dining room after serving a couple their lunch plates. “How did it go?”
I force a grin. “We’re all set.”
That evening it starts to storm adding to my already piss-poor mood.
The protesters outside our building and lunch with the mayor and Pitts doesn’t keep me from speculating why Leo was driving into the city from Hollow Lake at three in the morning and whom he might have been fucking. My brother and I were different as night and day. We had no common ground and while I know he loved me, I don’t think he liked me.
It isn’t until I’m standing next to his coffin, looking down at his serene face, that I realize the emotion I’ve been battling with since I found out about his death is regret. It’s too late to fix what our relationship was and turn it into what it was supposed to have been. He died thinking I’m a cold-hearted asshole while I thought he was nothing but a bleeding heart who was too fragile and depressed to do any real work for the company.
A picture of our family taken several years ago when Leo and I were kids is tucked under one hand. Mama wrapped a rosary around his other and picked out his best suit. Clean-shaven, his hair brushed away from his face, he looks like he’s about to attend Mass, something he rarely did in favor of sleeping in and going to brunch. Sometimes Mama could convince him to attend Saturday evening service, but I don’t know how long it’s been.
I don’t go, either, and Father Dan never lets me forget it. “There’s the stray sheep,” he says in a low, pleased voice, sidestepping several others who are vying for a moment to speak with him. He wouldn’t pass up the chance to corner me, andthere’s nowhere I can run in the funeral parlor and in front of my brother’s casket, no less.
“Father,” I say, mynonna’s wailing drowning me out. She’s sitting near my mother who’s quietly sniffling into a black handkerchief. I should go sit with them, but my mother’s favorite son is gone and I won’t be of any comfort.
“When are you coming back into the fold? Give your grief to God,” he says, resting his hand on my shoulder. I try to loosen my muscles. His touch of sympathy is the first I’ve had since Dad told me Leo was dead.
“I’m not exactly the kind of sheep God wants in his flock.”
His smile is kind and sad. Everyone loved Leo. “God loves all his sheep, Dominic, even the black ones, especially the black ones. You’ll find grace and forgiveness among us. Please come to Mass on Sunday. Your mother will be happy. She needs that now.”
“I doubt there’s anything I can do to make my mother happy.” I’m not bitter about it. Maybe I used to be and maybe Leo was jealous of the time our father gave me, but I’m no longer angry that Leo has always been the stars in my mother’s eyes. I’ve known since he was born he would please her in ways I never could and I latched on to our father knowing if I was just as cold as he was, that we would be the perfect pair, father and son.
“That’s not true. Nonetheless, would you like me to speak with her?”
“Talk to her if you wish, but not on my behalf. Our relationship doesn’t need fixing. It’s fine how it is.”
Father Dan nods but he doesn’t look convinced. “My prayers are with you.”
He walks toward my mother and drops to his haunches in front of her, holding her trembling hands in his.
I sink into a chair that’s away from the others, lean my head against the wall, and close my eyes. I’m so tired, and I can’t believe my brother is gone. I want to leave and call the first number listed in my little black book. If I can find some peace between a woman’s legs, I’ll take it.
Lightning streaks across the viewing room walls and thunder cracks so loud everyone stops speaking in shock. Rain whips against the windows as if God Himself is angry Leo’s dead.
