EPILOGUE: WELCOME TO THE FUTURE

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Chapter Soundtrack - Epilogue: "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve

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"Are you sure you don't want to come to LA with me?" Gretchen asked as she continued to pile more clothes into an already overflowing suitcase.

"I'm sure," I assured her.  "Besides, what would I do there that I can't do here?"

"Leave the memories behind, for one," she grumbled, stepping into her walk-in closet to retrieve yet even more clothing.

"Subtle," I sighed, sitting up on her bed.  "Can we not get into this again?"

"It's been three months, Athena.  It's time to let go and move on," she said quietly, finally giving up on the defenseless suitcase.  I narrowed my eyes at her as she jumped on the bed next to me, leaning in closer to see what I was looking at on her laptop.  "Ugh, you're searching the New York online newspapers again!  What do you think you're going to find anyway?  Gabe's not a celebrity you know."

"Yes, I know, Gretchen.  And for the millionth time, I'm never going to be able to move on from this," I told her.

"You won't if you don't allow yourself to," she responded.  "Gabe wouldn't want this.  He wants you to be happy and to live your life.  That's the whole reason why he left you in the first place."

"We've been through this already," I said, frustrated.  "My life will never be complete until Gabe is in it again, and as soon as I save up enough money for a plane ticket and hotel, I'm flying to New York to tell him that.  I just wish traveling there wasn't so expensive.  My parents' rule about paying most of my own expenses after high school has taken effect.  Between my car, cell phone and books for classes, it's taking forever to save up enough." 

Though my parents were supplementing tuition costs that weren't covered by the scholarships I had received and I didn't need to furnish a dorm room since I had chosen to attend a local university which allowed me to live at home, the reality was that my minimum wage job at Robertson's wasn't enough to cover all of my other expenses plus a trip to New York City.  Especially when I didn't know how long I would be there.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about your great master plan to ruin your life," she said dryly.

I glared at her defiantly.  "I don't understand you.  You've always been so supportive in the past.  Why can't you be on my side now?" I asked while typing out the web address for The New York Times and hitting enter.

"I can't support a decision that's going to end up hurting you.  For someone who was almost shot, you sure do seem to be in a hurry for a replay," she stated, giving me a glare of her own.

"I love Gabe," I said quietly.  "I can try to live a life without him, Gretchen, but I can promise you it will be an empty one."

She paused for a moment and gave me a thoughtful look.  "Athena, none of us know how we'll feel about certain things in the future.  That's why they call it the unknown.  You can't predict what's going to happen next."

Although I could hear the sound of her voice, the words were no longer registering as my heart started pounding in my ears.  "Gretchen, stop talking," I instructed.

"Why?" 

"Because," I responded impatiently, "something's happened."

She looked down at the screen and read aloud the headline.  "Suspected mob boss Isaac Valente dead," she said in a solemn voice.

We both stared at the article for a few seconds, neither of us saying anything.  Isaac Valente...dead?  The shock and disbelief seemed to practically suffocate me, preventing me from actually being able to speak.

"There's video available," she finally commented.

I realized she was right and slowly clicked on the video icon.  Footage of Gabe and his mother leaving the hospital flashed before us, while a voiceover from a female reporter started to play as well.

"It was confirmed this morning that suspected crime boss Isaac Valente has died of a heart attack, which he suffered late last night.  He is survived by his wife, Francesca Valente and their son, Gabriel.  Police have no reason to believe foul play was involved at this time.  An autopsy will be performed. No other information is currently available." 

I barely registered the words as I stared at Gabe and his mother.  They had their heads down as they tried to make their way through the sea of photographers and reporters.  I let out a deep breath at the sight of him, my heart reawakening from the hibernation it had taken since he left.  He looked exactly as I remembered him and different at the same time.  Although his head had been facing down, I could see the grim expression on his face.  He had been wearing a black button-down shirt and jeans with one arm around his mother, guiding her through the menacing press.  I could practically feel the devastation visible in every feature of her face.

"Poor Gabe," Gretchen murmured.

I turned my head slowly and just looked at her, still unable to say anything.  As my eyes went back to the computer screen, I tried to keep the nausea in my stomach from creeping up into my throat. 

Gretchen and I had just read and heard two very different news reports. 

The version she would remember was about the untimely death of a gangster. 

The version I would never forget was about the birth of one.

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