Hidden Past – Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Hidden Past

Angela Marie Capelli was born in Appalachia, along the Ohio River in Gallipolis, Ohio. Her parents had mixed feelings about having a baby as neither was certain they could afford a third mouth to feed. Once her mom held little Angela, she knew she would find a way to support her and possibly give her some of the things she had never had.

Angela’s father worked on a riverboat that transported barges, mostly filled with coal, down the Ohio River to the Mississippi. His typical work pattern of thirty days on and thirty days off tragically ended when he fell from one of the barges into the river, likely destroyed by the propellers of the giant diesel engines.
Angela’s mom, pregnant with Angela’s soon-to-be sister Katherine, sank into a deep hole of depression, and began to reverse roles with her six-year-old firstborn.

“Mommy doesn’t feel good … Can you be an angel and fix your own dinner tonight?”

Later on, “Could you be Mommy’s little helper and change the baby’s diaper? And see if you can be a big girl and get her bottle ready.”

Angela always obliged and always tried to do whatever her mom asked her to do. She did her homework when she could get to it, with cooking and junior-mommy work being top priorities.

She missed her dad so much. She lay in bed at night and remembered his strong, black-haired arms lifting her high and hugging her. “Daddy’s little princess, that’s what you are! No matter how many kids I have, you will always be my number one!”

She cried and muffled the noise. She did not want her mom to hear because it would just make her sadder. Mommy had lost her husband and was now what they call a widow, like a spider or something. Angela did not want to be a burden to her mom or cause her to feel any worse than she already did.

Angela Marie was a beautiful young girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dazzling smile. Her flashing eyes and friendliness conveyed to others that she was cheerful, always in a good mood, and fundamentally a happy, normal child.

But beneath her outward persona was sadness, a worrisome inner world of fear and dread, fear that she would never have a future with fun and opportunities and dread that her mom’s life would end as abruptly and tragically as her dad’s had ended.

“Mommy, you really need to be more careful. Last night, after Katherine and I went to bed, I heard you fall against the kitchen table. I was afraid to get up out of bed, afraid you would be mad at me. Did you have another dizzy spell?”

By now, the serious-for-her-ten-years Angela knew the spells were brought on by alcohol consumption, frequent and heavy consumption. She knew her mom had been something of a drinker for a long time. With some self-prodding, she could remember good moods and loud laughter spiraling into angry shouting and arguing, back when her dad was still alive.
Both her parents had looked forward to his thirty days off and were primed to party when he came into the house from the shipyard. Sometimes they would stay up all night the first night he came home, drinking, talking, and playing Italian opera music loudly.

Angela’s father was Italian, his own father having come directly from the old country in time to enter first grade at Gallipolis City Schools. This grandfather, whom Angela never knew, began school, unable to speak a word of English. But he got by; he did okay as some of the students befriended him and helped him learn.

Angela’s father told the story more than once, of what a great country America was and what a special community Gallipolis was. “My dad couldn’t speak a lick of English, but the people here accepted him anyway and took him under their wing. We owe a lot to the people here. I’m just sorry Papa never lived long enough to enjoy his golden years with the people he grew up with.”

Very unfortunately, Mr. Capelli Sr., Angela’s grandfather, was driving home from the clothing store on Second Avenue where he worked as a clerk during the day and a tailor at night. It had been just after Thanksgiving, and the Christmas rush was beginning, even in Gallipolis. Mr. Capelli had sold three suits that day and had worked late into the night, trying to complete what were extensive alterations.

As he drove by Miletti’s, a run-down little bar at the lower end of town, he thought momentarily about stopping in to have a quick beer and maybe a hot dog. Miletti’s hot dogs were famous for their chili sauce, and people came several miles to eat the chili dogs and take a pint or even a quart of the spicy condiment home.

Mr. Capelli Sr. hesitated, started to slow down to turn right into Miletti’s cramped little parking lot but looked at his watch and saw it was eleven thirty, and slowly reaccelerated.

In a flash, his life was gone. A young man named Jimmy Bateman, fairly inebriated, was leaving the parking lot, saw the lumbering old station wagon slow down, and then gunned his engine to launch onto Garfield Street. In a sickening split second, Jimmy realized the station wagon was not going to pull in but, instead, was going to continue southward toward Lower River Road.

Jimmy’s hot Camaro broadsided Mr. Capelli’s Buick, pushing it head-on into a pickup truck operated by Marvin Wheeler. The stars were horribly misaligned that December night, and neither Mr. Capelli nor Mr. Wheeler ever knew what hit them. They were pronounced dead at the scene by the emergency medical team from Holzer Hospital.

Jimmy Bateman was unscratched and unhurt physically, but he never recovered from the trauma of that night. He was completely cooperative, sobbing, and agreed to be tested for his blood-alcohol content. “I did it. I’m guilty. I know I’m a DUI! I don’t feel drunk, but I know I am!” he confessed between hysterical outcries. The police officer on duty cited him for reckless operation and for driving under the influence of alcohol.

Mr. Capelli Sr.’s life ended prematurely and tragically with alcohol being a major contributing factor. Two years later, when Angela’s father’s life ended in the Ohio River, it was strongly rumored that alcohol was a big factor, that he had been drunk when he fell.

Angela was twelve when she heard that rumor.