Tony fussed over the table arrangement. He was not one to fuss, over anything, much less a table arrangement. But he agonized over flowers verses candles; solid colored placemats verses patterned ones. 'Where is Martha Stewart when you need her?' Tony thought, as he checked things over one more time.
He then went into the kitchen and tasted the pasta sauce for the hundredth time. He considered adding seasoning. He had made adjustments already and it tasted wonderful. Just the way his grandmother's had, but still he fussed. He had also looked at his watch for millionth time. He had wanted to make sure everything was still warm when it hit the table. He opened the oven door to check in the garlic bread. He had turned the oven off and was using the warmth to keep the entire dinner warm. He had made fresh iced tea and had stashed it back into the fridge. He wanted to wait until the last possible moment to put the ice cubes in before he sat it on the table. Everything had to be just…perfect.
Olivia raised her hand to knock, then she hesitated. She wasn't afraid to go in, she knew. She…she wondered what his place was like. She wondered too, if she was truly welcome. It's one thing, and it's really nice to say someone is part of your life, when they truly don't intrude. When you go out somewhere and meet someone, you can still go back to your home and it's still 'just' you're home. You don't have to share it. Tony inviting her here was a huge step for both of them. He was opening his home to her, it was huge.
Olivia knocked and Tony opened the door seconds later.
This was it! Tony thought when he heard the knock. He took another quick glance around and let out the huge, nervous breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
"Olivia, come in." Tony said, stepping aside to let her enter. He closed the door behind her. He took her coat and hung it up in the closet and told her to lay her purse on the couch. She then sat down and Tony sat down in a chair facing her.
"I…" Olivia started. "…I wasn't quite sure what to expect coming here and all." Olivia said, looking around the apartment.
Tony looked around his living room. He really liked the scheme, even though he didn't design it himself. The muted tan, the black leather sectional, chosen specifically for him, though his friend, the designer, told him the room really couldn't handle it. Tony had won out though. He couldn't sleep comfortably on a regular sized couch. He needed this size.
Tony nodded. "I had a designer friend design it. She just asked me what my colors and style were and she went from there. She really got what I was telling her."
Olivia nodded. It was most definitely masculine, but not forcibly so. "I like it."
Tony smiled and the conversation lulled for just a moment. "You want the tour?"
"Sure." Olivia nodded.
The tour was over moments later, given Tony lived in a one-bedroom apartment.
"If…if you ever wanted to stay with me…you're welcome. I…I sleep on the couch, a lot. The...it's comfortable."
Olivia nodded but said. "I wouldn't want to put you out."
Tony took his daughter into his arms, and hugged her tightly. "You could never put me out. I want you here. I would never have invited you if I hadn't."
"Oh, I almost forgot. I was going to mail it. But I knew I would see you tonight so I just brought it with me." Olivia then handed Tony's graduation invitation to him. She waited until he opened it. "I really want you there."
Tony nodded. He couldn't speak, staring at the picture she had included. He was just captured by those beautiful green eyes staring back at him in the photograph; his daughter, his flesh and blood, in her cap and gown, staring at him. She had also included one of her senior yearbook pictures, she looked absolutely stunning.
"Are you hungry?" Tony asked, tearing his eyes away from the picture.
Olivia nodded in response.
"Good, let's eat!" Tony then retrieved the food from the oven and they sat down to eat. Tony dished out the food as he talked. "I hope you like manicotti."
Olivia spread her napkin out on her lap. She looked up at Tony. "That is not a dish I'm too familiar with. The only Italian food we get is from the local pizzeria; pizza, spaghetti and an occasional Italian sub. Dad's the cook in our house. He's a chef at one of those high-priced hoity-toity restaurants." Olivia said, making a face.
"What?" Tony asked smiling.
"It's one of those places where you pay like $10 for a bite of food." Olivia said rolling her eyes.
Tony just smiled, waiting for Olivia to continue.
"Dad..." Olivia paused. "…my other dad took us all there once. We, Crystal and Jeremy and I, didn't know that each item cost so much. We…we kept asking for more, wondering why they gave out such small servings. Dad…" Olivia smiled. "…dad about fell over when he saw how much we ate. The bill was about $600. "
"Wow!"
"Yeah, after that the manager took dad aside and told him that this was not as establishment he thought kids could appreciate. That they catered to a more sophisticated clientele. Dad got the message and never took us in there again."
The meal passed as the pleasant, conversation continued. Tony stood up, at the end, to clear the table, but Olivia beat him to it. She put the dishes in the sink and began to wash. Tony grabbed a dish towel and took over the task of drying and putting the dishes away.
"I…I'm sorry." Olivia said when she realized what she had done. She pulled her hands out of the dishwater and looked for a towel to dry them on.
Tony smiled. "It's OK." I'm glad you feel comfortable enough here to do something like this. You have a home here, too." Tony said as he handed Olivia the towel.
Olivia shook her head at the offer. "I want to finish them, if that's OK. The meal…the food was wonderful." Olivia paused. "This can be my 'thank you.'"
"I'll teach you how to make it sometime." Tony said.
Olivia looked at him, shocked. "You made that. I just figured…."
Tony nodded. "Fresh pasta and homemade sauce…" Tony explained. "…you can't call yourself a true Italian if you don't know how to make pasta and sauce. That is what my grandmother always said."
Olivia nodded. "I would love to learn." Then she paused. "There's…there's something I want to ask you about. I…."
"Ask me anything."
"I…I know mom sent you the scrapbooks she had made for you. But…" Olivia paused. "…she…she didn't have any pictures of you. I mean. I…I have no pictures of you. I don't know anything about you. I know Mom told you that she kept track of you, where you were. And she did. But she didn't…she didn't pry. She just did basic searches. She just found out what cities you lived in, where you were working. She didn't go deeper…" Olivia paused, conflicted. "…I'm not sure what I have a right to ask for here."
"Ask me anything." Tony repeated. "I mean that. But give me a second." Tony then turned and disappeared into his bedroom. He returned with a shoe box that looked as if it has seen better days. He then sat down on the couch and motioned for her to sit down beside him.
Olivia came and sat down and Tony opened the box.
"I…my dad is not one for sentiment, but when I called and asked him to send me whatever every pictures he didn't want. I didn't think he would send me every picture we ever made, but from the looks of the things, he did. This box…" Tony said, referring to the open box in front of them. "… is one of many."
Tony pulled out a picture at random. It was of him in one of those horrible sailor suits. Tony grimaced at the memory.
"What?" Olivia asked, looking at Tony and then at the picture. "That's you, right? You were cute."
Tony nodded. "Yeah, that is what Mom thought too. She used to send me to school in those…things. And then wonder why I got beat up so much. Why my clothes were always dirty. The other kids made fun of me and pushed me in the mud. They said baby's get dressed up in sailor suits by their mommies. They called me names for years, even after…."
"After what?" Olivia asked, after she thought Tony had paused for too long a time.
"My mom, you grandmother…" Tony began slowly it was painful for him, even though it has happened years ago. "…was killed in a car accident. She…she was drinking. She ran off the road, hit a tree. I…I made it out ok. Just, just broke my arm." Tony smiled a weak sad smile. "Got to wear a cast for a month. All the kids signed it. I got special privileges."
"You…you were in the car. She was drinking. How? Why?" Olivia asked. She couldn't imagine either Sallie or Jacob being so irresponsible.
Tony explained. "Mom and Dad argued a lot. She told him he needed to be a better father and pay attention to his son. He told her to stop drinking so damn much and mind her own business. He had to work so hard, he said, to keep her in the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed."
Olivia just shook her head in wonder. She tried to remember the last time she had heard her parents argue. She couldn't.
"Anyway that was what they usually argued about alcohol or me." Tony said. "Don't get me wrong. Dad drink too, but he did his drinking at business meeting or in the privacy of his den, so it was ok. He was a man, it was OK for him." Tony paused. "For Mom, it was…unladylike, unseemly…those were the words Dad used anyway."
Olivia didn't speak, wanting Tony to continue.
"This time…I…I think I had broken something in dad's den. He didn't let me go in there much. But I would sneak in there and look at things. He…he had a couple of model airplanes and cars stored in a tall glass cabinet. I…I wanted to see them, you know. Just look at them. They were just so…so cool." Tony said, his eyes had a faraway look as if he were relieving the memory. "I would take his desk chair and roll it over to the cabinet and then climb up in the chair. I had just gotten up in the chair when he came in." Tony recalled. "Dad instantly flew into a rage. He took my arm and yanked me out of the chair. I went back. The chair went forward and hit the glass so hard it broke out the front pane. Well, it cracked, it didn't shatter. But, oh, dad was so mad. He cussed me and told me to get the hell out and then asked my mother why she had given birth to such a useless, worthless whelp."
Olivia didn't know what to say. She slipped her hand into Tony's, hoping to provide him a little comfort.
Tony took her hand in both of his and continued talking. "Mom was in tears, but she had her bottle in her purse. She always did. She took me by the hand and pulled me with her. I, I was in shock. I had never seen Mom and Dad fight. I had heard them, plenty of times. But they usually didn't fight in front of me. But, with them both being drunk it…It got out of hand quickly. Mom took me out of the house and pulled me into the car. We took off. I thought she was through drinking, for the time being anyway. But…but then, then I saw her take that flask out of her purse." Tony squeezed Olivia's hands as the memories took hold. "I pleaded with her. I begged her not to take a drink. She looked at me for a second. Then she looked at the bottle. She threw it out the window. But she was so drunk by then, it didn't matter. She, she hit a patch of ice going about 60 mph on a country back road. She slammed a tree, on her side of the car. I…that was why I was spared if it had hit my side of the car…." Tony shook his head.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Olivia said. She slipped her arm around Tony's shoulders. "That must have been horrible for you."
Tony shook his head and wiped his eyes. "I…I didn't mean to…. I didn't want our evening to go like this, Baby Girl. I'm sorry."
"Like what?" Olivia asked, not understanding his meaning.
"DiNozzo men don't cry. That is what my dad always said." Tony responded.
"I guess it is a good thing I have never met my grandfather. I don't think I would like him. That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard."
Tony smiled, but didn't respond.
Olivia leaned in and moved her arm to encircle his waist. "You were a kid. How else were you supposed to respond to your mother's death? You were too young to really understand what was going on. What did he expect?"
"He expected me not embarrass him and not draw attention to myself."
"That's stupid." Olivia stated.
"That's Anthony DiNozzo, Sr."
Olivia leaned her head on Tony's shoulder. "I am not sure if I told you I loved you or not."
"You have." Tony replied he slipped his arm around her. "Are you trying to change the subject?"
"No, I'm try to tell you I love you enough for you to be yourself." Olivia explained. "I want know it all, the good and the bad. The happy memories and the sad ones, they are a part of my life too. I'm your daughter."
Tony nodded. He then reached into the box and drew out the next picture.
TBC
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.