Page 56 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
“Call me Lucas,” I say reflexively. I’m not used to hearing people address me with my surname. But it gives me a swell of pride now, a zip of reassurance running through me that the doctor knows us and that he’ll take special care of my father, the great and famous Dante Fierro.
“Your father is stable and we’re looking at his test results now. So far the numbers are promising and the pictures show minimal damage.” He turns to my father. “Dante, you could have done a lot worse. This was a mild- to middle-range attack, in layman’s terms.”
“When do I go home?” he asks. Of course.
“Not so fast. Another day or two of testing and observation and we’ll start you on your physical therapy. We can send someone to do that in your home, if you like.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I will welcome whatever can be done in my home. A physical therapist can visit at any time you recommend.”
My father is in complete control, but I need to talk to the doctor, need to ask him about the long-term prognosis and medication. Dr. Moletti turns to me as if he expects my questions.
“Let’s let Dante rest now. It’s what he needs most.” He pats my father on the arm.
Then my father releases my hand, and at first I regret at the loss of the contact. The loss of the intimate connection disturbs me, but I look into his eyes and he smiles.
“Have a nap, Papa. I’ll be here when you wake,” I say. He closes his eyes and I follow the doctor back out into the hall, where my mother and sister wait. I wonder for a second where my two younger sisters, Rosalie and Theresa, are, but then remember that they are in school. My father would insist they not miss school. Not even for his heart attack.
It should be odd, then, that he expects me to put my entire life on hold for his heart attack. But I understand the tradition, understand that his expectations for me have never wavered, not for one single second since I was born.
Pulling the door closed behind me, I wait for the doctor to speak. We stand with Sabrina, my mother, and Melissa. Melissa gravitates to my side as the doctor addresses me.
“Your father is a strong man. His heart is strong except for slight damage from the attack. He’s been under stress—no doubt a lifetime of stress from the high demands of his position.” He pauses. I nod. We’re all listening to him intently, but he’s addressing only me.
Melissa holds my arm and I let the promise in her body next to mine soothe me, calm me, relieve some of the tension I’ve been holding. When I think I’m relaxed, I speak.
“What long-term effect will this have on my father Doctor Moletti?”
“He’ll be weak and tired for a while, but that will improve. He’ll need to take it easy, not allow the same levels of stress return, but I can tell he’s the kind of man who will resist slowing down. He’ll need to be on medication the rest of his life.”
I nod. “What about eventually returning to his work?” My words sound strong, though they vibrate through me as if I’m asking whether my father has been sentenced to death. Because for him, that’s what a life without his work will be.
“With physical therapy and care he should be able to return to his normal activity level. But with minimal stress. I believe this is chiefly a stress-related event. I recommend that his work be restricted, that reducing his stress, perhaps reducing his role in the company will be necessary.”
The words are like strikes to my gut, slicing at my core, and I imagine how my father will feel when he hears them. But then, knowing Papa, he’s already guessed the worse.
After a pause to allow me to digest his answer, the doctor continues. “He needs to have a good diet and reasonable exercise, but from speaking with your mother it appears he already has this.”
I’m still thinking about what the doctor says about reducing his role in the company and ultimately what this will mean for me. I tighten up again. If I don’t watch it, I’ll be the next one with a heart attack. My mother looks at me she knows what I’m thinking.
“You’re right, Doctor, it will be hard to keep my father from throwing himself into the business as fully as always. His company, this family business, is his life.”
I’m not sure why I’m telling the doctor this, except that I know my mother and sister are listening and thinking the same thing. Then I add, “But I know he treasures his family too, and we can persuade him and help him by easing his burdens.”
Dr. Moletti nods and says, “Then I’ll leave you to your family now. I’ll confirm with you later Dante’s release in the next day or two.”
We all watch the doctor walk away down the hall in silence.
Melissa says, “Sounds like an excellent prognosis. This is good news.”
I put my arm around her, knowing that she knows what this could mean for me and my role in the family company.
My mother says, anticipation and anxiety quivering in her words, “Dante will not put up with a limited role in his company, Lucas, unless he knows you are the one in charge.”
It truly is a crisis if my mother, the loving supporting one who always avoids confrontation and smooths things over, boldly states the problem. The obvious issue, the thing that we all know, the thing that’s been the source of our family turmoil all these years since I left, has been about me being expected to take charge of the family company. When I was young and rebellious and first made my decision to leave Italy, I didn’t like the notion of automatically being required to take over the family company. It felt confining, as if my future was a foregone conclusion with no mystery, no surprise. I wanted to have some say in what I did with my life, something to be decided by my choice.
Now it turns out my choice has been only about the timetable at which my life as the head of Fierro Motor Company unfolds.
But all that rebellion seems like a different lifetime, like it happened to someone else. Now it’s obvious to everyone that I will do the thing my father always wanted me to do, the thing that I once upon a time when I was young and foolish and didn’t understand life, had refused to do. I’d already been preparing myself for a return, had adjusted my graduate degree to be more relevant to our company. Now I will step into my father’s shoes and I will run Fierro Motor Company.
