City on Fire (Danny Ryan, #1)(79)

It was like creeping bad news, a wave you couldn’t stop. First there was the discovery of the lump. It could have been benign. It wasn’t, it was malignant. Then there was the surgery. It could have been a lumpectomy but it wasn’t, it was a mastectomy. Then it could have been stage one, even stage two.

It wasn’t, it was stage three.

Every crossroad took a turn toward the darker place.

Life turns into a monotonous round of chemo, vomiting, fatigue as he watches helplessly. All he can do is hold Terri’s head, bring cool washcloths, watch Ian while she rests, make meals as best he can.

Meals that Terri picks at.

He watches her get thin.

She makes bad jokes about it. “Hey, look, I finally lost that baby weight.”

Danny says all the things you’re supposed to say. “We’re going to beat this thing.” “They’re coming up with newer treatments all the time.” Everyone says what they’re supposed to, the usual clichés like “She’s a fighter.”

Yeah, Danny thinks. There are two fighters in any fight, and one of them loses.

He tries to “stay positive,” though.

One good thing is that the war with the Morettis has come to a stop. Not officially, there’s been no sit-down, no negotiation, but Peter didn’t hit back for Sal and there’s been no aggression of any kind from the Italians.

It seems like they’ve fought to a standstill.

Liam takes credit for it.

Fills the back room of the Gloc with his bragging. “Without Sal, they’re done. Whoever took Sal out . . . and I’m not saying who it was, mind you . . . won the fucking war. They’re finished.”

Privately, especially when he’s high—and he’s always high—he goes around telling everyone, “in the greatest confidence,” how he killed Sal Antonucci. “He comes walking across the street at me, gun in his big fucking hand, and BAM!”

“Yeah, it was High Noon,” Pam says to Danny one night, overhearing this. “Gary Cooper over there.”

“Even if it’s true, he should keep his mouth shut about it,” Danny says.

“How’s Terri?”

“She’s okay.”

“She’s a fighter,” Pam says.

“How much coke is he doing?” Danny asks, looking over at Liam.

“Full employment act for the Colombians,” Pam says.

“Why do you stay with him, Pam?”

“I don’t know,” she says. And that’s the truth. She has options. Just the other day, she was out grocery shopping, an FBI agent approached her.

“A woman with your background,” Jardine said. “From a good family. What are you doing with a piece of shit like Liam Murphy?”

She didn’t answer.

“And now you’re doing coke?” Jardine asked. “I can see it in your eyes. What I can’t see is you in the joint. Pretty girl like you? Whew.” He shook his head.

“I’m just trying to do my shopping,” Pam said.

“Like a good little mob wife,” Jardine said. “He probably has you clipping coupons by now, because, what I hear, it’s not going so well for the home team here. What I’m saying is you have options.”

He handed her his card. “Call me, we can work something out. You’re a Connecticut girl, you don’t belong in Rhode Island.”

She didn’t answer, but she stuck the card in the back of her purse. Now she says to Danny, “Maybe because if I leave him, all this has been about nothing.”

Danny recalls the first moment he saw her, walking out of the ocean. So beautiful, so golden.

Not so much now.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it has been all about nothing.

“How much coke are you doing?” he asks.

“Too much.”

“Maybe you should get some help.”

“What?” Pam asks. “Go with Cassie to those awful meetings? No thanks. Anyway, I’m cutting down. What, Danny, you don’t think I own a mirror, I don’t know what I look like?”

Danny don’t go down to the beach much.

He usually only goes down to bring his old man the groceries, maybe go for a quick dunk. The jaunts are guilty breaks from the pain of Terri’s illness. Sometimes he stops by Dave’s Dock for a quick chowder, or Aunt Betty’s for clam cakes, shaking them in the brown paper bag to coat them with salt and vinegar—maybe he grabs a beer at the Blue Door.

Then he hurries home ashamed that he’s had some enjoyment.

One day he asks Marty, “Why do you really think Peter pretends that the Blacks killed Sal?”

“Think about it,” Marty says. “Peter and Sal hated each other—sooner or later, Sal was going to make his move. So Liam did him a favor.”

“You think the war is over?”

“It’s never over,” Marty says. “The tide comes in, the tide goes out. You go through war, you go through peace. You enjoy the peace while it lasts, you try to survive the war. That’s all you can do.”

Danny figures that’s about right.

He drives back to Providence and sees John at the Gloc.

The old man asks, “How’s my daughter doing?”

“Come see for yourself,” Danny says. Because John hasn’t come over once since Terri was diagnosed. “I know she’d love to see you.”