“All part of the experience.”
It’s a busy Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, and the bus is full of tourists. There’s going to be a long line at Willis Tower, but I don’t mind. I focus inside of myself so often now that sometimes I don’t even notice all the people around me. It’s a big change from always watching everything, but I don’t mind that either.
“You see that?” I point to the sidewalk as we exit the bus.
“What?”
I hold her hand and maneuver through the other people getting off the bus so Alina can get a better look. Near the edge of the building is a strange arrangement.
“What the heck is that?”
“Duh,” I say as I gesture to the object on the ground. “It’s a neatly folded dress sock with a pile of French fries in the middle of it.”
“I have no words.” Alina stares at the object and slowly shakes her head.
“Only in Chicago!”
“I can’t even comprehend this,” she says. “Why in the world is this here?”
“It’s modern art! It’s obviously a political statement about fashion in the restaurant industry. Don’t you get it? Come on, I’m the one who’s supposed to have the brain damage here.”
She looks up at me with one eyebrow raised, and I bend down to quickly kiss her lips.
“Speaking of restaurants, I’m taking you to 676 when we’re done here.”
“What’s that?”
“A restaurant and bar. You haven’t lived until you’ve had one of their raspberry martinis and a peanut butter and jelly waffle.”
“That actually sounds really good.”
“It’s incredible.” With her hand still in mine, we head over to the entrance.
It’s been a little over a year since I was shot. A little over a year since a bullet went through my brain. Jonathan and Eddie-boy have been running the show all this time, and that suits me just fine. In name, it still belongs to me, and I think that still counts as fulfilling my duty to Rinaldo. Lele moved back to Italy while I was still in a coma,
taking both of her daughters with her. She came back to visit once and gave Alina all her family recipes.
My reputation as a killer, combined with surviving a shot to the head, seems to keep my enemies at bay. Though I’m no more than a figurehead now, no one is willing to challenge the organization. I’m both surprised and impressed with how well Jonathan and Eddie-boy have done with the businesses. There’s more legitimate money coming in now, and they’ve hired a lot of good people to keep everything running smoothly.
Being physically broken seems to have helped me become less mentally damaged. Mark doesn’t think it has anything to do with the injury to my brain but rather the experience itself. Even though I don’t remember it, it seems to have changed my outlook on life and other people. I don’t understand it, but it’s working for me. I can still be impulsive and scatterbrained now, but as long as Alina is around me or Maisy is playing fetch, I’m actually pretty happy. When I’m alone, I still have the occasional panic attack, and the nightmares never completely stopped, but they got better. Sometimes I feel bad for Alina having to put up with it all and wonder if she feels like she’s stuck with me. She keeps telling me she doesn’t think of it that way, and I believe her.
I’ve never told her that I love her. I think I do, but I haven’t said it.
The line is insanely long, and it twists and turns through roped-off corridors as people take their pictures near the signs on the walls. We sit in the movie theatre and watch a documentary on the building of the tower, and Alina leans her head on my shoulder as the images on the screen flash by.
We finally make it to the elevator and the long ride to the top. When the doors open, I hear Alina gasp at the view. We head up near the windows where they have some of those short-range telescopes you can use if you shove a few quarters into them.
“Is that our apartment building?” Alina grips the rail as she looks out over the city.
“Yes. There’s Millennium Park and Soldier Field over there. See the Ferris wheel over at Navy Pier? And there are all the museums. Maybe we should try one of them out when we’re done here.”
Alina checks out all the souvenirs while I step onto the Skydeck. I stand on the huge piece of glass and look down into empty space. It’s unnerving to step onto the clear platform, but once I get out there, it’s not bad. Heights have never been a trigger for me, so I’m good.
Everything looks so peaceful from this high up. Even the crowds of people in the street seem orderly. It’s only when you get too close that you can see how ugly it can be.
I’m responsible for so much of that ugliness.
I feel a hand slip into mine, and Alina steps tentatively onto the platform.