I
“Life is about persuasion, Sal. You’re either the persuader or the persuaded.”
Fenning McRand tossed a miniature basketball over to Salvatore Capelli, who caught it with one hand and twirled it on one finger before tossing it back.
“We’re the persuaders, amigo–that’s why we’re in this business.” Fenning snatched the ball, trying to mimic Sal’s twirl, but fumbling the ball into his lap.
“But we all know who’s the best.” Sal winked at Fenning and stretched his lanky legs out on Fenning’s desk. Fenning pushed them off with one hand. “Not good enough to plant your big, ugly dogs on my desk, Salvy.”
“Hey, it’s Sal—unless you want me to call you Fenny.”
“You already do,” Fenning smirked and shrugged as he flipped through a wrinkled copy of Sports Illustrated.
“Playtime is over.” Sal peered through their office’s only window.
“Fresh meat at 3:00 heading our way.”
“I’m feeling generous today, Sal; so I’ll let you have this one. It’s the least I can do for having a friend like you for so many years.” Fenning winked, then glanced over at the young couple circling a silver colored sedan, stopping to read the neon orange banner draped over the front window: Anything’s Possible! Make it Happen Today!
“You’re a gentleman and a scholar, Fenny.” Sal acknowledged, grinning as he walked backwards out of the small dealerships rain spotted door. “Hey, If you’re feeling bored, you’re welcome to come out and watch a real salesman in action.”
“Great—let me know when he shows up.”
Fenning’s eye remained locked on the magazine, ignoring Sal’s one-finger salute as the door clanked shut.
“Any questions today, folks?” Sal jogged over to the couple, straightening his tie and flashing a toothy grin. “I’m Sal, the lead sales manager, at your service on this muggy afternoon.” Sal sucked in his small potbelly and thrust his hand out at the young, sandy blonde man peering at the silver sedan’s passenger window
“Hello.” The young man shook Sal’s hand. “I’m Jeremy. And this is my sister, Julie.”
“Julie and Jeremy—I think I can remember that.” Sal chuckled softly. You two look a lot like: same green eyes and same hair color. “Are you twins?”
“We’re a year apart,” Julie chimed, brushing strands of stringy hair from her lips.
“Yeah, she’s 28.” Jeremy thumbed over at Julie. “And I’m 27.” “Interesting.” Sal rubbed his chin. “I had a daughter around your age.” “Had?” Jeremy said, raising one eyebrow.
“She passed away two years ago.” Sal lowered his head.
“How come?” Jeremy asked.
Julie’s face twisted into a wrinkled frown, and she pinched Jeremy’s side. “Please excuse my brother; he’s a little too forward sometimes.” Jeremy looked back at the car, pretending that he did not hear.
“It’s all right,” Sal continued, folding his arms tight against his chest.
“She died at an anti-globalization protest. That’s what I got for raising her to hate the government.” Sal shook his head, rubbing his imaginary headache. “Anyway, she and three of her friends were shot by a few cops who were supposed to using guns with rubber bullets. Not that day, however.” All three looked down at the ground quietly, lost for words.
Sal broke the silence by nodding at the car. “Now where were we? We were talking about this slick silver machine, right?”
“Right.” Jeremy nodded back, patting the car’s elongated hood. “Do you mind if we take it for a test-drive?”
“Wow, you’re making my job easy.” Sal laughed, still trying to lift the mood. “I’ll get the keys.”
Sal jogged back to the office, where Fenning was holding his magazine with one hand while practicing his basketball twirl with the other.
“Fenny, I’m taking the kids out there for a drive–be back in awhile.” Sal took a swig of cold coffee from his I Love NY mug and grabbed the matching silver key from the pegboard propped against office’s back wall.
“Go get em, Salvy.” Fenning raised his thumb, then stretched his arms behind his back. “Hey, you seemed a little serious out there with those kids. Do you know them or something?”
“Nah. They are Regina’s age, so I just mentioned…I don’t know…I probably shouldn’t have said anything.” Sal finished the coffee in one gulp, then slid the cup across Fenning’s desk, knocking the basketball onto the floor.
“For a minute there, I thought I had seen them here before—but, nah, it can’t be…”
“Can’t be who?“ Sal said, raising an eyebrow.
Fenning nervously scratched the back of his head. “Oh, those friends of your daughter—the ones she was involved with when…well, you know.”
Sal’s face hardened. “Fenning, we’ve gone over this many times—they were killed, too. The parents identified the bodies and buried them. Let’s end the conspiracy theory once and for all. Besides, neither of us met them in person, if you recall. At least I don’t remember them coming home with Gina during semester breaks.”
“Yeah, I know.” Fenning fell silent for a moment, trying to figure out what to say next. “Ok, Salvy, enjoy the drive; and don’t let them talk the price down like you did with that other couple. We have bills to pay, remember.”
“I’ll do my best, Fenny.” Sal took a deep breath. “Meanwhile, you try to make us some money, too. That magazine you’re reading won’t sell cars for you, you know.”
Fenning looked out at the next neon sticker on the silver car, then looked up at Sal and grinned. “Anything’s possible, Salvy.”
II
A mile away from the dealership, Sal adjusted his seat belt and stretched his legs out under the passenger’ seat, enjoying the extra room suited for his stature, while Jeremy and Julie mumbled about the car’s dash controls and how smooth the ride felt. Julie was behind the wheel, studying the road as if she had never seen one.
“You’re a natural, Julie.” Sal patted the driver’s seat, near Julie’s shoulder. “Just keep cruising for another two stoplights, then make a right.”
Julie flashed a quick grin and continued with her eyes back on the road.
Jeremy looked over behind the steering wheel. “Hey Jule, this car is almost out of gas.”
Sal poked his head over Julie’s shoulder, peering at the fuel gauge. “That’s odd; it had a full tank of gas yesterday. Maybe the gas mileage on this car isn’t so great.” Sal chuckled nervously.
Jeremy pointed out Julie’s window. “We can stop at that gas station over there.”
“Good idea,” Sal nodded. “Let’s fill ‘er up.”
As if reenacting the arrival at the dealership, Jeremy and Julie circled the car again, examining it closely as Sal fiddled with the gas nozzle, trying to lock it in place so he could run into the store and buy a round of sorry this car had no gas super-size sodas.
While he congratulated himself for his gas pumping mastery, Sal couldn’t help noticing the squad car parked on the other side of the pump. Being the curious type, Sal tried to get a better look, when he saw a head peak out from the rear of the car.
The officer, noticing Sal gawking, nodded. “Good afternoon,” he rasped
“Hello,” Sal waved quickly, feeling embarrassed.
“That’s quite a car there, sir.” The officer pointed at the silver car’s rounded trunk. “And it looks familiar.”
“Oh yeah?” Sid said, resting against the trunk.
“Yeah. My son had a car like that, except the color was a grayishblue.” The officer jiggled the gas handle in the squad car’s tank. “I sold it a few months ago, and I thought perhaps you were the new owner and had given it a new paint job.”
“No, this isn’t my baby.” Sal looked pointed behind him, hoping
Jeremy and Julie were listening. “But it will be theirs by the end of the day.”
The bulky officer stood up, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Whose?”
Sal turned around to point to Jeremy and Julie, who had escaped Sal’s subtle sales pitch.
“I guess they’re inside the store.” Sal held his hands up, then looked over at the store, which appeared to be empty.
The officer snickered. “Well, if you don’t sell it, let me know; I have a friend looking for a new set of wheels.”
Sal replied, “Great,” and handed the officer a business card. “So why did you sell the other one?”
The officer stuffed the card in his pocket. “My son died a few months ago. Actually, I lost both of my children. And, well, I couldn’t keep the car.”
For an instant, Sal felt an odd sensation in his chest, his mouth hanging open while blankly staring at the officer. Sal knew what he was feeling. The lines on his face ran deep—not from the beginning stages of old age, but from the devastation of burying his children. It was eating him alive, day-by-day.
Sal knew this pain too well.
“But not a day goes by that I don’t think about my Jeremy and Julie.”
Sal froze, feeling his veins tighten and his stomach fill with acid. Sal pressed his hands against his head and looked at the store again, which was still empty inside. He snapped his head back to find Jeremy and Julie holding onto the officer’s uniform, weeping uncontrollably and shaking their heads against him. The officer simply stared at Sal, completely unaware that his own children were holding onto him
In a moment of delirium, Sal ripped the gas nozzle out of the tank, jumped in the car, and squealed out the parking lot, refusing to look behind him, his heart was beating so fast it felt like it was breaking through his skin. Sal let out one long shout, slamming his fists against the dashboard, blazing past the dealership without noticing.
Tears blurring his eyes, Sal sopped them with his sleeve. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to go back to the dealership. He didn’t know what to do, except go home and just forget. Acid saturated his gut, swimming up to his tongue, making his mouth foam with thick saliva. He clasped his hand over his lips, feeling at any moment he would vomit all over the dashboard.
Why was he letting himself fall apart? What if he was back at the dealership? What if he was going home to see his daughter? She wasn’t dead—no, she was home on spring break. He would drive home and everything would be ok.
“Yes,” Sal said aloud, “Everything will be ok. I’ll go home. Yes, I’ll go home.”
“Not until we make peace.” The voice came from the back seat. Sal jerked his head back, “No, you’re not here! What the hell are you? Why are you doing this?” Sal’s eyes blurred again: he could not stop crying. Wiping his eyes with his other sleeve, he barely noticed the car stopped in front of him at the traffic light. Sal jammed on the breaks, swerving the car, stopping just inches away.
“Mr. Capelli,” Jeremy spoke softly, “We’re here to help you—to make peace. We know you’re in pain. Let us help you.”
“You can’t!” Sal shouted. “Just leave me alone! Get the hell out of the car! Stop this!” Sal screamed again, giving the cars ahead little time to accelerate as he plunged his foot down on the gas, racing past them. He then made a sharp right turn on to the road that led to his house.
Just then, Sal saw the flashing lights in his rearview mirror. It was the officer from the gas station. “Of course,” Sal laughed hysterically. “How could I expect to speed away from the cop?”
Julie placed a hand on Sal’s shoulder. “Please, Sal, let us help you. Let us explain.”
“Explain what? That you’re dead and now in the back of my car! Stop it! Go!”
“We all want peace, Mr. Capelli.” Jeremy spoke calmly. “Regina wants peace, too.”
Sal looked back, saliva coating his chin. “How do you know? No!
You don’t know what she wants! You killed her! You let her die!” Sal was block away from his house, approaching an intersection that he planned to speed trough, when he saw a young girl standing paralyzed in the middle of the intersection. Sal swerved the car again and smashed it into the stop sign. His chest slammed into his steering wheel as the plastic bag popped from it, punching his face back, slicing his right cheek, and pinning his chest against the seat. Sal fought back, flailing his arms against the bag, screaming, “Stop it! Just go! Get off me!”
Suddenly, Sal felt his body yanked out of the car and on to the ground. His arms and legs writhed while he felt heavy, strong hands restraining him. He looked up through clouded eyes to see the officer standing over him. “An ambulance will be here shortly, sir. Just try to relax.”
III
“I can’t hold on, Dad!”
Sal, determined to hold on, had little strength left: he was drained. Sal was in his living room, feet pressed against his oak entertainment center, arms holding onto Regina, desperately trying to pull her through the flat screen mounted on the wall. Regina’s arm was sticking out of the screen, the rest of her body surrounded by a screaming mob of painted faces and clenched fists.
Sal tried to reinforce his grip by clamping one hand on Regina’s elbow, but it slipped through his grasp. Regina just stared at him, eyes watering as he hand slipped back into the screen.
“I’ll help you, sweetie!” Sal cried. But he knew it was over. Regina stumbled back as the first round of bullets pierced her body. Sal leaped towards the TV, but bounced off, dropping to the floor. “I’ll help you, sweetie.” Sal reached a hand out. “Don’t go, my sweet baby girl! Don’t go, my sweet girl…”
“Mr. Capelli?”
Sal jumped up onto his feet, scanning the living room, trying to find the voice. Who was in his house? They came to get him too! Before he could run, he felt light penetrating his eyes. He raised his arms to block it, but it was too bright–it was burning his skin. His eyelids fluttered spastically, trying to kill the blinding rays by any means possible.
Sal’s eyes shot open again and saw two shadowed figures standing over him, wiping his forehead and the side of his cheek, which made him wince with pain–it felt like a blade was stuck inside
“Mr. Capelli, It’s good to see you awake. We’re here to help you.”
Sal focused on the shadowy forms, one male, and one female. He began to tremble and squirm in the railed hospital bed. “I told you to go away.
Why…are you doing this…”
“Save your strength, Mr. Capelli. We’ll take care of you.”
The fuzziness in Sal’s eyes cleared. He was in a hospital room—and the people standing over him were two nurses dressed in blue smocks.
Sal breathed a sigh of relief. “OK,” then closed his eyes, feeling his body tug him back into slumber.
“Sal, don’t go to sleep just yet. We need to talk with you first.” Sal mumbled a promise to his body that he would go back to sleep in a minute, then opened his eyes, searching for nurses’ voices. The figures were standing by his bed again, but were wearing street clothes. Sal looked up at the green eyes.
“Oh my…” Sal’s mouth quivered. “Why…”
“Mr. Capelli. We’re here to make peace. Please let us, and we will never disturb you again.”
Sal couldn’t decide whether to accept this as another dream, break out into total hysteria, or just listen to Jeremy and Julie—or whatever they were, he thought—had to say.
“What…” Sal groaned.
Julie put one of the bed’s rails down and sat next to Sal, gently taking his hand and stroking it. Jeremy sat next to Julie, arm rested on her back, looking at Sal intently.
“As long as I have to sit here and listen to you two, whatever you are,”
Sal groaned, “please call me Sal, not Mr. Capelli.”
Julie smiled softly, gently squeezing Sal’s hand.
Jeremy straightened. “Sal, we didn’t meanto let your daughter die. We were protected—at least protected enough to withstand the impact of the rubber bullets. We didn’t expect that some of the cops were carrying real bullets. We were trying to get back at our father, so we attacked the police first. We didn’t know the bullets would be real.”
“You’re kids,” Sal coughed and pulled his hand away from Julie. “What do you know about cops anyway? Just because your father is one, you thought you could stage something like that?”
“We know now, Sal.” Julie frowned. “And we’re learning our lesson.”
“So why couldn’t your father see you?”
“We’re not allowed to make contact.” Jeremy held his left hand out. “This is part of the lesson. We’re allowed to contact you, though, to try to make peace with you and give you peace back.”
Sal lifted his pounding head, craning his neck at Jeremy. “And how do you expect me to have peace back? My daughter is dead, dammit!”
“She misses you, Sal.” Julie took Sal’s hand again, stroking it. “She knows she’s your sweet girl. She is suffering. She sent us to contact you. She demanded we face you.”
“That sounds like her; she was always demanding,” Sal laughed, then cracked, “You know, I always wondered what you two looked like. And now I know—except you’re dead. Funny how things work out.” Sal rested his head against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.
Jeremy pressed his hand againstJulie’s.
“Sal, we’ve already accepted that you may never forgive us, but please don’t push away from your daughter. She still needs you.”
“As I said,” Sal remarked, “You’re kids; you let your feelings take over, and for that, you suffered the consequences. I don’t know what you’re suffering now, but if my pain is on your list, take it off. Go learn the rest of your lessons and make the next life better than this one.”
Jeremy and Julie smiled, rose up from the bed, and walked towards the hospital door.
“Do me a favor, though.” Sal added. “Tell my daughter I still need her, too.”
“Of course.” Jeremy tipped his head, “But I think she wants you to tell her.”
“I see. So does this mean I’ll see her too?” Sal perked his head up again.
“Anything’s possible, Sal.” Jeremy smiled and faded into the door, following his sister.
IV
Fenning was unusually quiet when Sal returned the dealership the next week, immediately noticing Sal’s bruises and stitches, but not making any sarcastic comments.
Sal decided to start the routine joking. “Well, I was glad you came to visit me, but I’m still disappointed you didn’t bring me flowers.”
Fenning stretched back in his chair, ready to pick up the new, wrinkle free edition of Sports Illustrated, but instead grabbed his cup of coffee and took a few sips, meditating on his response.
“Just remember: you owe me, so be prepared to cover me sometime. In fact, I need you to watch the office today; I have to run a few errands.” “You’re a hell of a partner, Fenny.”
Fenny sipped his coffee again and waved his hand up and down, brushing away the compliment.
“Oh, Sal?” Fenning grabbed the sport coat hanging from his chair. “Yeah?” “Before I forget, a young woman called for you earlier—said she needs to talk with you about the couple you helped on the day of the accident. She’s coming by in a bit to see you—probably because you sold her a crappy car or something.” Fenning stepped out the door, his laugh trailing off as he scampered out to the tiny parking lot.
“Yeah,” Sal slowly curved his lips into a smile. “Or something.”