Marva in the Garden

Vito Cusamano

But somehow, in the morning, I was back in my bed. The house was right-side up and it was time to go to school.

That morning, Grandpa rushed me as I ate my breakfast. He said he had to drop me off a few minutes early so he'd have time to see Vito Cusamano at the hospital before his operation. Grandpa was wearing a turban with a big pile of fake fruit on it. He said Vito would get a real kick out of it.

"Marva sure got a kick out of Bernardo with that oil can last night," I said, and held my breath. But Grandpa only did his eye-rolls and ran into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

***
Grandpa was still wearing the fruit turban when he picked me up from school that day, when he told me that Vito Cusmano had died in the early morning before he got to see him at the hospital. The fruit turban was tilted to one side and the plastic bunch of grapes was missing. For dinner, we went to the pizza parlor because Grandpa didn't feel like making spaghetti, and I didn't feel like making salad.

When we got home that night, Grandpa did something I've never seen him do: He turned his chair around to face the window instead of the TV. I sat in his lap for the rest of the night. I thought about how, for almost my entire life, meaning since I've been roller-skating, Vito Cusamano smiled and waved to me from his garden as I'd roller-skate past his house. He usually wore a blue baseball cap with the bill turned up and overalls without a shirt, except for Sundays, when he'd wear a pink or a yellow polo shirt with brown pants. He was long and skinny and looked like a friendly, happy skeleton.

"Will Vito's garden be okay without Vito?" I asked.

Grandpa kissed my head and said "God only knows."

***
It's been over a week since Vito Cusamano died, but Grandpa still hasn't turned his chair back around to face the TV. We haven't watched any cartoons. He hasn't even done his eye-rolls...