The Industrial Family

Homeward Bound

He imagined the plane wasn't heading towards a remote location in West Virginia. In fact, he wasn't going to Athens, West Virginia, rather the Athens he read about in history books. Stepping out of the tiny jet, he'd feel the fresh Greek sun across his face as it sprawled out across the horizon showcasing a landscape of geographical and manmade wonders. Instead, as the plane descended, he began to see the smoke trail forming from one of the plants in the distance.

He smelled Athens. He didn't have to be outside to smell it-just the sight of it reminded his senses. The airport was still nothing more than a single terminal used occasionally by businessmen and a few of the relatively wealthy locals. It was dilapidated and poorly managed. He noticed waiting for his bags at the one baggage claim in operation that there was no security even evident before the gate.

It still could've been 1975 for all he knew. He gladly left the airport and headed to the lone car rental operation to pick up his blue ford escort. The car was stained white from obvious salt residue and left with not even a quarter of a tank-but it was enough, so he drove off.

Out of the wild wilderness of West Virginia into the urban culture that lay along narrow rivers that traversed the low lying towns. Along the rivers stood the remnants of a dying breed. The last remaining mills of America stood defiant against time. Their smoke billowed out of porous stacks clinging to woe-be-gone days.

He saw the mills from across the river-an advantageous view as he was immediately a part of the scene yet still looking from afar. As soon as the smoke was visible he felt something deep in his stomach that hadn't been there for years. It was a pain inside him that he thought had receded; he believed in his heart had dissipated with time. Yet, its remains still clung to his psyche buried deep down.

Here, thrown directly into his past, those thoughts and emotions crept back to the surface from the deep abyss that he hid them within. All he had to do was look at the great sculptures of industry rising up on the river banks. They were triumphant sculptures at their birth. Tangles of twisted steel and concrete forming a perfect union of engineering might. The towns gloated over these shiny beacons of economic opportunity. Small, unadorned towns that all of the sudden represented the ingenuity of man. It was a sight, these towers producing smoke that formed a perfect mushroom cloud over the valley.

But the happily ever after part never transpired. For with this marvelous machinery came a swarm of odd side effects. Mothers watched as their once lively and energetic children soon were brought down by strange and incurable diseases. Husbands, with great vigor in the prime of their life, forced to suffer bouts of physical depression in a sad, slow journey to death.

It never occurred to them that their means of employment, the plants they fought so hard to win were destroying their vitality. They didn't consider it, that was impossible-just a coincidence. But the misery continued as each ream of smoke poured into a lifeless sky.

He had witnessed it all. His life and the factories all seem intertwined, as though their birth coincided with his. But now it occurred to him that he had outlasted these marvelous feats of machinery. They were now nothing more than a reminder of an era and generation that would never return. This is what he had fought for-to see these empires collapse for the sake of humanity and the environment. Not this way though.

As much as he tried to convince himself that he wasn't-he was one of them. It was in his blood, circulating through him wherever the path led. And these people were suffering, so too did he suffer.

The car puttered along until it reached its final destination. The employee lot of DiCarlo Steel was nearly empty except for two luxury vehicles adorning secluded spaces to the left of the regular lot. Dominick DiCarlo stepped out of his car and was blown away by the smell.

He could recognize it from anywhere. It was the same exact stench that his father used to carry home every evening, clutching to his clothes and hair. This had been the smell of his first job, that indomitable odor that pervaded everywhere it went. He had thought for years that it still followed him wherever he went, that it clung to him across an entire nation never relenting. Now he remembered why.

Vinny DiCarlo, the stout, brutish figure stood waiting to embrace the second of the three DiCarlo boys. Like he looked, Vinny hadn't received the brains of the three. He had inherited the spirit, fire and strength that had been so evident in their father. It was what stood out most in Vinny's eyes. That spirit, anyone who had ever known Michael DiCarlo could see his mark on this particular son.

Dominick looked nothing like his younger brother as they embraced awkwardly at the entrance of one of the few standing steel mills in all of America. He was lean and incredibly tall. It was more than just his height that made him stand out from the rest of the family. He had such an angular face compared to the full flesh of the average DiCarlo. At family reunions, he had been the one of the four children that had been spared incessant attempts to pinch their cheeks because there had been no cheek to pinch.

Not one person Dominick knew believed that he was a full-blooded Italian. They thought the name had somehow been picked up along the way by accident-some folly that had left an obviously Anglo-Saxon family with an oddly Mediterranean name. But his friends from Washington had never seen his family before. They'd never stood next to the figure of Vincenzo DiCarlo and his rough, calloused hands or seen his fleshy face.

"Good to see you, Dom."

Vinny had never been one for words. He was a man of action and that was what displaced these two brothers. They had a mutual respect for one another, but neither one knew how to show it to the other.

"You too, Vin. Sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

"Yeah, I know. It all happened so suddenly."

Dominick nodded his head and felt the pains again. They were incessant now, driving at him, stabbing him directly in his heart. He tried to center his mind and emotions somewhere else.

"Here, come inside, Paul's in his office right now. He's waiting for you."

Vinny led his older brother through the narrow, dimly lit halls of their father's love child. Each wall was lined with different pictures of famed entertainers, business people, politicians and well-to-do people that their father had been acquaintances with. Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Jimmy the Greek, every Notre Dame Coach since Knute Rockne-it was a glorified shrine to the last forty years in popular culture. At the end of the hall led to the main office where their father used to sit and lounge.

Dominick could still taste the stale cigar smoke wafting in the room as his father pretended to make important business calls. In reality, he spent most of his leisure time at the office. Lounging around, playing cards with the union guys, watching bowl games-this was his sanctuary, and he had always wanted his sons to have a part in it. Dominick and Vinny had loved this place, whether they were sugar-crazed toddlers using it as free range opportunity for tag and hide-and-seek or teenagers that found it to be a place where they could sit in on conversations between grown men that they knew they shouldn't have been hearing.

But it was Paul that had fought his father's adoration for this place. He had rebelled from the instant he first came upon the plant. It represented nothing to him, served as no form of entertainment and he hated the smell more than any of them. It was dissatisfying for him to revel in his father's glories. He wanted to fight to outlive that long shadow that had been cast so prominently since his birth.

The eldest of the DiCarlo boys-blessed with the most guile, wit, athleticism and all-American charm. He wanted to use his god-given talents to do something on his own accord. And here he was, the anointed, prodigal son sitting exactly where his father had been thirty years before. He had gotten over his disgruntled past that had been so evident in his younger days. But it still was there, lurking somewhere waiting to reveal itself.

"Dom, how the hell are ya?"

Paul wrapped his massive arms around his brother and gave him a strong bear hug.

"Five fucking years, man-way too long."

"Yeah, I know."

"How's the EPA?"

"Fine, nothing much new going on there."

"Yeah, I guess. You talk to Rita, yet?"

"Nope, just got in," Dominick responded.

"You probably should stop by; she is really shaken up by everything. I don't know why, but she didn't see it coming."

"You did?"

"I mean Mom didn't quite live by the standards needed for her to have a quality life. Janet had to force feed her pills to her everyday, not to mention how she ate and how much wine she would drink. Her heart was a ticking time bomb, Dom."

Dominick hated to listen to his older brother. He never could get over the self-righteous nature of everything he said. Sitting there, smugly looking down on him from the throne of their father-Dominick couldn't help but resent him.

"I guess it was just her time. Have you started the preparations for the funeral?"

"Oh, yeah, everything is all planned out and taken care of. You know Mom, she was thinking about this even when we were little. You don't need to worry about doing anything, Vinny and I here can take care of everything," Paul said.

"I'd like to help."

"They'll be plenty to do afterwards, don't worry about this."

"I understand, but I'd still like to help."

Paul could see his brother wasn't backing down. This was going to be his stand; he would in respect for their mother abdicate his position.

"Ok," Paul said.

*****

The funeral took place at the local funeral home where the DiCarlo's were considered royalty. Tidd funeral, run by a man who had personal been friends with their father, ran the reception as though a national hero had passed. The entire town passed through the parlor as the viewing took place from sunrise to sunset.

Dominick and his brothers eventually greeted the guests in stages. Two of them would greet and accept condolences, while the other would have an opportunity for down time. Dominick used his chances to catch up on sleep that he had lost ever since he arrived in Athens.

From the plane trip to the viewing he'd been unable to find a chance to sleep. The night after he arrived he had only tossed in bed, going from left to right. He had thought staying in the hotel had been a better choice than impeding on one of his brother's families or even his sister. No, during the day he would deal with the reality of what he was facing, but night would be his chance to accept some solitary confinement for himself.

And did he need it. Every place he turned in the town seemed to be some evidence of his past. Faces that he had long forgotten and old spots of sanctuary that he had let fall into the recesses of his mind. It was all such a knock to his conscious and he needed some kind of reprieve. But sleep refused to come.

Instead, he laid awake recounting old stories in his mind that had previously wandered off. Stories of hope, dread, humor, debauchery-anything that he had once forgotten came reeling back. He'd wake up in the middle of the night and tried everything to clear his mind: books, television, magazines, writing-nothing helped to knock his senses back into place.

And here he was as the casket was now being placed into its final resting spot. The entire wake he'd been dismissed by members of the community. Few recognized him by his appearance, only what they knew. The son who had left, run away from the company and the family. And of all things, he'd become the enemy. A "pious" environmentalist, going so far as trying cases from towns nearby-putting people who had done so much for him out of business.

The less subtle and senile of the well-wishers didn't have the same sense of respectability as the others. Some ventured as far to have the guile to even ask who he was. One particular man yelled at him when he said he was the second of the three sons.

"Michael DiCarlo never had three sons! You're an imposter."

The elderly man's daughter apologized as she dragged him out of the funeral home into the chilly night. It would've been funny for Dominick if that hadn't been the only instance. But whether they said it or not, the entire reception stared at him in disbelief.

They viewed him as a lesser-a stranger impeding on their quaint town. He saw the faces scouring over him, determining that he was only here to pick up his inheritance and run back to Washington with his elitist friends. They had sized him up from the beginning and knew that he was bad news.

He loved his mother, and this made it all so much more painful. To see that his own place in the family had been usurped because of his refusal to be a part of something that was entirely against what he believed in. His father had accepted it years before, but no one else seemed to believe that Michael DiCarlo was actually proud of what his son was doing. But Dominick at least knew he had made his parents proud. If anything, they were honored to see their son take part in something bigger than money and business-he was protecting the community as a whole.

His father never explicitly said it, but he had wanted his sons to explore other options. Vinny was destined to work in the plant; he had no other skills and didn't mind the idea of pursuing the family legacy further. But Dominick and Paul had the opportunity to do something else, and Dominick believed that his father secretly wished they would leave this place, this life and find their own identity. He hadn't come across this choice easily, but he learned that the world had more to offer than what Athens provided.

It just felt strange now to be the outsider after years of loving the glory that came with being a son of Michael DiCarlo. He had a plane ticket to head back to Washington in two days; he'd help out with the will over the phone and via the internet-but he couldn't be here anymore. If they wouldn't accept him, he wouldn't accept Athens. So this would be it, no more trips, no more visits. An occasional phone call and Christmas card, but that would be the extent of his correspondence with the past.

The past had betrayed him and he wasn't about to apologize for his actions. They were validated and now that his mother was gone, no one was left to understand the sacrifice he had made and the commitment that followed. Vinny loved him and would do anything for him, but he didn't understand the complexities. As for Paul, the two brothers had come to terms with their relationship the night before.

Over cold pizza and barely cold Bud Lights, they had begun to discuss the will of their mother.

"I think we have everything figured out then," Paul said.

"Yeah, I guess we can call it a night."

Dominick was frustrated and for the first time ready for sleep when his brother decided to let his feelings out.

"Dom, can I ask you something?"

Dominick had already turned the handle to go to his car and was ready to let all matters of business be over.

"Can it wait till tomorrow; I don't think I can deal with anymore of these legal technicalities right now? I get enough of this at my job."

"No, I guess this is more personal."

"What is it?" Dominick asked, closing the door behind him and stepping into the conversation.

"Why'd you leave?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why did you abandon us?"

Paul asked the question with as much force as he could muster.

"We needed you," he added. "Vinny, Rita-especially me. We were supposed to do this together."

"It wasn't for me," Dominick answered.

"That's a cop-out."

"I don't ever recall dad telling us it was our responsibility to take over the family business."

Paul was fuming; he couldn't believe the audacity on his brother. To think that it wasn't his responsibility. This was their bloodline, their legacy. He took no pride in this family-from the beginning it had been about him. He was always Dominick first and DiCarlo last.

"He didn't have to ever explicitly tell us, you knew what was right."

Dominick couldn't stand his brother. Paul was the epitome of everything he'd learn to hate over the years. Self-gratifying, trying to fulfill their own desires and wishes. He didn't care for this family, but didn't want to attempt to revitalize an industry without the aid of the other intelligent brother. This was for his own good, not the good of the DiCarlo family.

"I'm not having this argument here and now."

"Why not?"

"It isn't appropriate, not at this time."

"Then when?" Paul responded. "Now is as good as a time as ever. This has been hanging over our heads for too long, let's just put a rest to it-here and now."

"Fine, I'll say what I have to say."

"Go ahead."

"Ok," Dominick paused and then plunged in. "You don't hate me for leaving the family and the business-I know you too well. That isn't what bothered you. No, what kills, what irks you everyday is I had the fucking balls to leave. You were the all-American boy, you were the prodigal son-yet, I was the one who ventured out and did something on my own accord. It pisses you off, thinking that you were the one supposed to be doing what I'm doing.

"You see me, and all it reminds you of is your own futile attempt at finding yourself. I represent what you could've been and that just eats at you, eats at your core. And you know even if I fail and become a has-been, it will still be better than a never-was."

Paul couldn't look at him in the eye. He was infuriated, intense with anger. He knew he shouldn't, but his arm acted against his brain's best wishes. It swung wildly at his brother and luckily missed, but Dominick didn't. His lean arm coasted downwards into his brother's face and flew him backwards into the ground.

Paul quickly got to his feet, expecting his brother to go for a second blow. But Dominick had no intentions to inflict any more pain. What he said had cut into his brother. And regardless of the loathing resentment he felt towards Paul, this was still his brother. He was still part of the bloodline that Dominick felt running through him. Michael DiCarlo was watching them both then, saddened to see what had become.

The two brothers looked at each other knowing that this was the last look. At that moment, they realized that there was no going back from this. They had both reached the breaking point and had crossed the line. No longer were they bound by family. Paul turned and walked out on Dominick forever, leaving it all behind.