Unspoken - 29. Anniversary

Dad and papà often didn’t celebrate their anniversary on or around their actual anniversary, due to their jobs regularly conflicting with scheduling, papà’s especially. This year they planned far in advance, though. It was a fine warm day this July 29, and we were having a grand festa, in the Bahamas, on Grand Bahama Island.

I’m still having trouble believing that dad managed to find a pavilion this big to rent in Freeport, and that papà not only got away with scheduling their tenth anniversary party outside of Italia, but was able to get Bisnonno Giuseppe to come. Well, not just Bisnonno Giuseppe, but almost the entirety of the Bucello. Dad’s side was here too, and I think the last time this happened was when they got married; they certainly hadn’t since I came to live with them. To be their figlio. Even after cinque anni it still hits me hard at random times. Still sometimes feels like a dream that I never want to wake from. It’s been anni since I’ve needed therapy, and I couldn’t be happier. I can only hope that mio ragazzo and I last as long as dad and papà have.

The DJ was going through a playlist of their favorite canzoni, but managed to catch my eye and give me a nod. It was the signal for me to come get a mic so mio dolce my sweer and I could give them their anniversary present from us. Ever since they brought me in they always said that the only gift they’ve ever wanted from me was for me to be happy, and Madonna they’ve gotten that year after year, but I wanted to do something extra special for them. So mio dolce and I practiced singing the two songs they love the most, and managed to find, after weeks of looking, karaoke tracks for them. After I explained our plan to the choir master at school, they all helped pitch in to help us rehearse and hide it from everyone else. Dad was such a fixture at the pta meetings and helping with the ASL classes, and papà contributed to the media club and the Italiano foreign language classes that everybody in school knew them; they were all ecstatic to be able to contribute.

Their music tastes on this list were very eclectic, ranging from a duo of songs from The Carmina Burana, all the way to 30 Seconds To Mars. Seeing and hearing some 30 Italians standing and joining the Scots in the pavilion to softly croon Loch Lomond along with Chanticleer was a sight to behold, as was seeing everyone present dance The Electric Slide. Go West’s The King of Wishful Thinking, Børns’ Electric Love, Sister Hazel’s All For You, Fuel’s Hemorrhage, Metallica’s Unforgiven 3, even Justin Bieber covering Despacito. They have never hidden their love or sexual desire for each-other from me, and I have to admit their dancing to that song was… sensuale. The playlist had seven hours of music on it.

As the notes from Escape (The Piña Colada Song) faded, I started moving, as Dancing Queen by Abba started up, and the dance area cleared. I’m not surprised, really, that dad had either agreed to do this, or more likely, offered. It has become somewhat of a family joke that papà would sing along to the song, badly, while dad danced, as papà would say, “come un finocchio.” Swaying hips, skipping and prancing about, limp wrists all, even going so far as to bend half over in a “sexy” pose shaking his culo and blowing kisses at family members. Through the whole song. It was always difficult for papà to get through the song without cracking up, and I could see the mirth on dad’s face too; true, all his denials were half-hearted and false whenever cajoling started to get him to dance to this song. The last song before our own gift was to occur was Absolutely Not by Deborah Cox. Dad continued his dancing from Abba, but this time papà joined in too. If you’ve never seen a six foot six Italian ballare come un finocchio, you haven’t seen anything. Everyone was laughing, including miei padri.

Dad has always been very self aware, but his biggest fallimento has been his constant denials that he’s “obvious.” He does ‘float’ when he walks, and his hips have a bit of swish to them. You can present him with video that he’s effimero, and he’ll still deny it.

Bisnonno Giuseppe once told me that dad had become il cuore of the Bucello, and especially here, now, in front of all, it was easy to see that it was molto vero, just as Grandpa Archie once told me he was truly the “Little Rock” of the Addisons. I’m so glad they were able to make it here too. I loved the Addison side of the family something fierce, but it seemed we never got to see them as often as I think dad would like. Padri have the video conferences weekly with the Bucello, and I’ve taken part in enough of them, so this might be where la mancanza comes from.

I shuffled my way through the crowd along the edge of the dance area, pausing to give mio fratellino a kiss on the cheek, eliciting a genuine smile, until I was able to tap my blonde bombshell on the shoulder, and motion him to join me in front of the DJ booth as the music faded. Everyone was looking around, curious and confused about why the music had stopped. It wasn’t troppo forte, but it had become a welcome background to all the talking and dancing.

“Buon pomeriggio!” I called to get everyone’s attention. Over time my accent shifted from my natural Californian to have a Florentine lilt, as a result of hearing papà speak nothing but Italiano in the house for more than three years, and all the time spent in Firenze. I’d also adopted papà’s habit of inserting random Italiano into my sentences for the same reason. “You all know me and mio dolce love attenzione,” I gave him a playful punch, which he dodged to give me a giggling kiss on the cheek, “and I have a couple things I want to say, but I’ll keep my comments basso, come papà Alex.” Everyone laughed. The dance floor was still clear, except for dad and papà, both who looked at us, confused. “I’ve only been Bucello for cinque anni but I’ve never seen amore like dad and papà share. They’ve been everything I could ever ask for, and I love you both so much. Papà told me un segreto years ago, something he’s never told anyone else, even at conventions. What made him want to be an attore di voce. The show Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex used Russian, English, Latin, and Italiano in it’s music and songs while being from a Japanese composer, and it was hearing all four and seeing them on screen that lit il fuoco in him. Dad, on the other hand, does have a regret about being mute.” I nodded to him and smiled. The love shining in his eyes told me he wouldn’t be angry. I knew him too well at this point. “He’s often felt he’s had to use music and song to express emotion because he can’t talk, and he wishes that he could sing so he could share suo cuore himself. But dad should know that his eyes say what his mouth can’t. He’s never needed to sing. We can see his emotion in his eyes.” I could see tears glistening in both their eyes. Dad’s were also shining with orgoglio. “As soon as they announced this festa, I knew what me and mio dolce had to do. It wasn’t hard, I already knew what their canzoni preferite are. We are going to sing them. We’ll start with papà’s first. Velveteen, originally performed by Ilaria Graziano.” I gave them a mock glare, which had them giggling happily. “Ci aspettiamo che balliate. Capito?”

Dad nodded, still giggling, while papà called out “OVVIAMENTE!”

The DJ knew to start playing the music.

We sang in harmony.

Seeing you in my tears

In my own reflection

I hear you in the wind that passes through me

Feel you in my hunger

You're haunting my ambition

Beautifully destructive attraction

Climbed to zero G's

Now falling like a rock

Drugged and digitized you inside a dream

E tu sei per me, l'aria che respiro

Il mio cibo, ciò che osservo

Magico sei tu, e mi sento che

Sono innamorata di emozioni

Smisurate e infinite ormai

A velveteen equation

I find you in my fears

And in my fascination

I taste you in safe water and it drowns me

Paranoid and peaceful

Inside a sweet addiction

Velvety electrical reaction

Soft insanity

And I can't make it stop

Live hallucination within a dream

E tu sei per me, l'aria che respiro

Il mio cibo, ciò che osservo

Magico sei tu, e mi sento che

Sono innamorata di emozioni

Smisurate e infinite ormai

A velveteen equation

Magico, questo è un grande amore

Magico, questo è un grande amore

The music faded with our voices, and unexpected applause erupted. Dad and papà had slowed to a stop as the canzone did, tears streaking down their faces. They almost teleported over to us, crushing me in l’abbraccio, squeezing me tight.

“Ti vogliamo tanto bene Bryce, tanto tanto,” papà whispered to me, holding at shoulders, while dad, who had been shorter than me for tre anni, squeezed me fit to burst around the middle. Eventually they let go.

“Ti amo, padri, but we still have one song to go.” They stepped back just a mite, and I set to explain the next one too.

“Dad has been un roccia for me since they took me in. Calma, freddo, tranquillità, sempre. Even when he’s emotional he still has controllo. I did see him break down completely, once, and it was the most frightening thing I’ve seen. Sì, sono assolutamente serio. He grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. Papà had to explain why. Dad, our gift to you is the ‘Reanimation’ version of Linkin Park’s ‘Pushing Me Away.’ I’m going to sing Chester Bennington’s part, mio dolce will sing Mike Shinoda’s part.” Dad started shaking his head, signing at me. ‘No, no don’t. I can’t’ before his hands dropped, fresh tears shining bright. I knew what memories this song brought back.

I touched his face wiping them away, “yes you can, dad. Let us sing this for you.”

He blinked, before nodding reluctantly. They stepped back.

Again, music began, and we sang.

When I look into your eyes

There's nothing there to see

Nothing but my own mistakes

Staring back at me

I've lied, to you (to you)

This is the last smile

That I'll fake for the sake of being with you

Everything falls apart,

Even the people who never frown eventually break down

Everything has to end, you'll soon find (For)

We're out of time left to watch it all unwind (the sake of being with)

Everything falls apart (you)

Even the people who never frown eventually break down

The sacrifice is never knowing

Why I stay, when you just push away

No matter what you see

You're still so blind to me

I've tried, like you

To do everything you wanted to

This is the last time

I'll take the blame for the sake of being with you

Everything falls apart

Even the people who never frown eventually break down

The sacrifice of hiding in a lie

Everything has to end, you'll soon find

We're out of time left to watch it all unwind

The sacrifice is never knowing

Why I stay, when you just push away

No matter what you see

You're still so blind to me

Reverse psychology, failing miserably

It's so hard to be left all alone

Telling you is the only chance for me

There's nothing left but to turn and face you

When I look into your eyes

There's nothing there to see

Nothing but my own mistakes

Staring back at me

Asking why

The sacrifice of hiding in a lie

The sacrifice is never knowing

Why I stay, when you just push away

No matter what you see

You're still so blind to me

Why I stay, when you just push away

No matter what you see

You're still so blind to me

By the time we finished, our eyes were closed. We opened them to silence, and saw that dad and papà were still in front of us. They weren’t standing, though. Papà was on his knees, and dad was on his knees but still sitting on the floor, gazing up at me. His shirt was soaked with tears, and he was silently sobbing his heart out. He lifted his hands, and though they were shaking too, it was obvious what he was trying to say.

‘Thank you. Thank you B. Thank you P. Thank you.’

The only thing I could do was kiss mio dolce, and then drop down and pull dad into a bone-crushing hug.

“Felice decimo anniversario, dad. Basta lacrime. This is a party!” He nodded into my shoulder, and I helped him stand just in time for mio fratellino to slam into us, clutching dad like he would vanish if let go. Dad looked down at the tousled hair – papà called him Piccolo Oro because of his hair color and skin tone - and ran his fingers through it, and I could see him huffing lightly in laughter. Music started back up, and dad took the boy and began leading him around the dance floor, giggling evident. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up to see papà smiling down at me. “Bryce, nessuno gli ha mai fatto un regalo migliore.”

“L'hai fatto, papà,” I poked him in the chest, “gli hai dato il tuo amore.”

He looked pensive for a moment, and then sighed and shook his head. “Forse.”

“Felice decimo anniversario, papà.”