It was opening night and Temptations’ capacity seemed to be at its limit. Everywhere you turned people were smiling, laughing or dancing.
The music blaring from the impressive sound system faded away and was replaced by Vic’s laughter. It was easy to see why people were drawn toward his larger-than-life personality. He owned the room. The people surrounding us hung onto his every word but when he turned around and stared into my eyes as he wrapped his arm around me, he was just Vic, the man beneath the designer suit.
Success.
It was the number one word in Victor’s vocabulary. He did nothing half-assed, always gave one hundred percent, and this club was no exception. From the marble floors to the over-the-top sound system, my husband didn’t skimp on one tiny detail. The extreme flashiness was what people had come to expect from Victor.
He boisterously laughed at a joke Jimmy was telling, turned to me and the laughter died in his eyes, replaced with something foreign yet familiar…love and affection. He bent his head, pressing his lips to mine; I closed my eyes feeling nostalgic as one kiss reminded me of the thirty-five years of kisses we shared.
“I love you, Gracie,” he murmured, pulling back from my lips staring into my eyes as the back of his hand caressed my cheek.
I wish I had of taken a photograph of him, of us, and the last time we were together when everything was just as it was when we were young.
Before the mob.
Before the suit.
Before I lost Victor to a life full of crime.
He lifts his head, turning it slightly and our eyes lock.
Nostalgic.
“Behind every great man is an even greater woman who made him this way. You’re my greatness, Grace, and I want you by my side forever…say you’ll marry me.”
Tragic.
“It’s time, Gracie. I’m turning myself in.”
Bittersweet.
“It doesn’t matter that I’m here and you’re there…you’ll always be my love, Gracie.”
I walk toward him watching as he rises to greet me, stepping around the table to pull my chair out. While most inmates aren’t allowed to touch their visitors, Victor seems to be the exception to the rule. Openly wrapping his arms around me he squeezes me tight like I’m his salvation. I relish in his touch.
Several moments pass before he breaks our embrace and motions for me to take a seat, pushing my chair under the table once I do.
Always a gentleman.
His fingertips graze my shoulder before he walks back to his seat and stares back at me.
“My Gracie,” he whispers, smiling faintly as he reaches for my hand.
It doesn’t get easier.
Every visit is another knife to my heart.
And when I leave here I know I’ll feel empty inside and wish I never came because seeing him like this, knowing all we have is an hour surrounded by strangers and a few stolen touches, is my damnation.
But then I tell myself if I don’t have these moments, I have none, and I need to cherish them just as I cherished every moment we shared in our life together.
“How are you?” He rasps. “How are my girls?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the few photos I was allowed to bring him and place them on the table between us. Releasing my hand, he lifts the photos, handling them with such care, like they are a fine piece of china.
“Oh God,” he breathes. “Is this…” His voice trails off as he turns the photo around to face me.
I smile warmly, knowing very well how much he needs my smile at this moment.
“That’s your granddaughter, Victoria Grace,” I reveal, introducing him to Adrianna and Anthony’s daughter. The little girl I held in my arms minutes after she was born. The same girl Vic will never come face to face with.
“She’s beautiful,” he says, turning the picture back and staring at it in awe.
“She is,” I agree. “She weighed seven pounds, three ounces, just like Adrianna did when she was born,” I continue. “Both Anthony and I were in the room when she gave birth. I swear, Victor, I have never seen anything more beautiful, and I don’t mean the birth but all the love surrounding it. It happened so quickly, well not really, she was in labor for nearly twenty hours, but when that little girl was ready to make her grand entrance it was beautiful chaos. Adrianna was crying, the poor thing was exhausted, but Anthony grabbed her hands, held them tight and forced her to look at him…” I pause, taking a minute to recall the moment myself before lifting my eyes back to Vic’s and noting that he is hanging on my every word.
These were the moments we should have been sharing together. Instead, I have to create them with words and Vic has to experience the birth of our granddaughter through my eyes.