tony-and-liliana-delvecchio.com

I see the bad moon a-rising,
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightning.
I see bad times today.

Don’t go around tonight,
Well it’s bound to take your life.
There’s a bad moon on the rise.

– Bad Moon Rising, Credence Clearwater Revival

            How could he have been so stupid? How could he not have seen sooner the disaster that was to unfold? Were the signs all there that he somehow didn’t see, or was the inevitable result of this incompatible marriage impossible to predict?

            Once again, Tommy felt the lash of self-recriminations upon his back, the familiar self-flagellations to which he had now become accustomed. The sting he felt now was well-deserved, he thought. He felt like a fool for not seeing what was to come, although at times he felt that such prescience was illogical, that the ability to look into the heart of a woman determined to hide the truth of who she was and to discern her true nature was an unrealistic expectation. She had been a perfectly acceptable girlfriend, and they had been together for four years before the Clearblue test necessitated that mad rush to the altar. “Accidents” of this sort were, it seemed, a family tradition for the DeVito family, after all, so maybe it was his destiny to start married life this way after nearly 40 years as a confirmed bachelor. His parents and his sister all found themselves suddenly in a “family way,” and he guessed now it was his turn, that fate had determined that his single life was somehow untenable in the grander scheme of things.

            Abortion was never a consideration for Tommy, although in retrospect he felt, with no small pangs of guilt, that it might have been worthy of consideration given the way things turned out. The loss both he and his daughter Livy lived through would not have occurred had the pregnancy not have proceeded. It wasn’t really a matter of religious objection, however, despite his upbringing as a Roman Catholic. His then girlfriend, in fact, didn’t seem at all averse to the idea, as indicated by her questioning “What should we do?” after the results of her condition had been confirmed. As a confirmed “woke” liberal from New Jersey, Tommy had always supported a woman’s right to choose, and had Yuko expressed a strong desire to take that path he might have acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. But when he perceived her indecision on the matter, all that remained was this feeling that ending the life that he had created was just something that, for whatever reason, he could not seriously contemplate. This was his child in there, and while theoretically he could entertain this notion that life did not truly begin until the moment of birth, in his heart he didn’t really believe it. Thus, the decision was made, and marriage plans began apace at that moment. After just a few moments after becoming aware of his girlfriend’s gravidity, Tommy blurted out “Don’t worry, baby. Let’s just get married.” Ready or not!

            Something, though, had changed in their relationship. The fact was undeniable. The once-or-twice-a-week lovemaking that he and Yuko had become accustomed to as boyfriend and girlfriend very quickly morphed into what was to be, he thought anyhow, a lifelong commitment. The carefree days were over now — he was to become a father, a breadwinner, indeed, a family man. Yuko made that clear to him by unilaterally quitting her job as an “OL,” or “office lady,” just two months into her maternity. There was now a new apartment to find for his burgeoning family, and household furniture and baby clothes and cribs and strollers and BabyBjorns and any number of other purchases he was soon to make. Tommy watched with no small amount of apprehension as the money he had so carefully been putting away each month from his job as an itinerant English teacher began to rapidly dwindle, and the salary that had afforded him a very comfortable bachelor lifestyle suddenly seemed woefully inadequate given the exigencies of this unplanned change of life. And Tommy wasn’t at all sure that he could make things work. He was back in graduate school pursuing his master’s degree in education at night, which was another expense and another complication adding to his regular workload and his new responsibilities as a father. All of a sudden, like all new soon-to-be fathers, he imagined, it seemed to him that he was to bear the weight of whole world resting upon his shoulders.

            Even so, all of this would have been acceptable to him. Tommy was good with kids. “Uncle Tommy” had been favorite of his nieces and nephews, and they all loved his goofy ways and childlike demeanor when he was with them, ways that allowed him to see to world through their eyes. Maybe being a bachelor for four decades had resulted in him never really “growing up,” which was fine as far as Tommy was concerned. Adulthood was, after all, way overrated, and he liked being unencumbered with what he thought were the chains of parentage. It had permitted him the freedom to seamlessly make whatever changes in his life that the saw fit without the necessity of having to consult with another.

            Nevertheless, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. Subtle changes in his girlfriend’s personality seemed to be taking place, or perhaps more accurately, were now revealing themselves. Tommy’s old Rastafari friend Greg Reddick from Redondo Beach during his college days at SC, a man he considered to be a wise and perceptive street philosopher, had told him once that people don’t really change, and that the changes you believe you are witnessing are really just manifestations of what always lay beneath. You just weren’t allowed to see them until the other decided to reveal those proclivities to you. And suddenly, indeed, this girl he had known for years, with whom he shared any number of happy times, was becoming unfamiliar to him in ways he could not clearly define, but which he knew were real, nonetheless. And he thought, as Oliver Hardy was wont to say to Stan Laurel, “Here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten me into.”