Without You, I'm Just Me

Bob let me store my car at his place, and then drove me to the airport. I thanked him immensely and all he said was; "I get an invite to that wedding."

"What wedding?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Wentz. You know what I'm talking about."

I smiled, rolling my eyes, "We'll see."

"All the grief you gave me about Naomi Valentino years ago, I need to see you marry her," he laughed, "I needa meet your kids, too."

"Most definitely," I said.

Once I was at the airport, I was finding myself alone. I got a coffee and walked to my gate; I stopped when I saw a magazine rack inside this little book place. I went in and scanned the rack; then I saw it: the front cover of Sports Illustrated. At first, I glanced, but my eyes caught the familiar face wearing a barely there bikini. My jaw slacked, I slipped out of the line and picked up the magazine; there was Naomi, her thumb grazing her bottom lip, mouth parted in just a small orange bikini.

The headline read: Naomi Valentino: The Midwest's Finest

I grabbed it, my eyes lingered on the cover, wondering if they had photoshopped anything. She looked the same, she had a green or off white tattoo on the right side of her hip, and her little heart that Andrew told me about. I opened it and skimmed the pages to find her spread.

I was shocked when I saw her in what looked like a backyard, sitting on a swing in the orange bikini and a Bears cap. She looked good, but I was kinda worried about what Benji and Lewis must've seen. I read one line; Pete was this weird dude who I couldn't help but to like. He was funny, he liked the same music as me and we just hit it off. He was my best friend. I continued on skimming the rest; He has always been cocky. He isn't cocky because he's famous and in a band, and pre-teen goth girls wanna fuck him. He's cocky because he's always been cocky, he's always been Pete Wentz. And, hell, I liked that...I was all for the bad boys, still am.

I closed it and went up the the register; I bought some candy, too, and paid. I hurried left the place and went to my gate to wait and read this. I was kinda nervous; I was thinking only to get to the get when a great big white flash caused me to flinch slightly.

It was just a paparazzi dude. He grinned at me; "Naomi looks good, huh?"

"Fuck off," I growled at him.

I found my gate and sat down, by myself. I sighed deeply, and took a moment to actually open the magazine. I found the spot and skimmed the first paragraph;

Naomi goes on to describe her first baseball game in 1987, when she was just 4 years old and suffered a broken arm.

“My dad heard the game go into another inning and I happened to be on his shoulders,” she laughs, “and he cheered causing me to fall back off his shoulders. My left arm looked like an accordion.”

Speaking more of her father, growing up in Chicago, watching Bear games with him; Naomi took her first sip of beer, at 13, with her dad at a Ranger’s game. By the time she was 16, she was living with her father, Leonard Valentino, in Chicago, in a house he helped construct. Living right next door was the infamous Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy fame.

SI: How did you meet Pete?
NV: He lived right next door; he cornered me the day after I had moved in with my dad. I think I was checking the mail.
SI: Instant attraction?
NV: Yeah, I think so.

Naomi says over the next year she got into the Chicago punk scene with Wentz. The pair was inseparable. They spent the majority of her college years, and the start of Wentz’s infamy in a tug-of-war relationship; his battle with depression and Naomi’s struggle to finish college and raise their newborn. She says she tried her hardest and was able to rely on friends and family to help her through, and did her best to mend Pete. Their relationship was off and on for the next 2 years, during which they conceived youngest son, Benjamin, who Naomi commented was too stubborn to be birthed, and now spend most of his days sleeping. Now, the young boy, who is nearly identical to his rock star father, sits in her lap, eyes fluttering as Naomi speaks to me.

The article curved around her body; her hips, revealing her little heart tattoo. On her hip is Oogie Boogie; I smiled at this and continued to read.

Her oldest son, Lewy, as he is affectionately called, sits by playing with an iPad. The boys have both gone to a Bears game with grandfather Lee, Naomi’s father, that summer. Both boys are instantly bored once I try and bring up the topic. Lewy is more interested in games and apps, while little Benji is more intent on cuddling with Naomi to find sleep.

I scanned the page to find what she said about being engaged…it’s on the next page; Naomi’s posed in a Yankee’s baseball cap and jersey, with navy blue lacey underwear, sitting on a chair, in what’s supposed to be a living room. I honestly don’t get this at all.

SI: Are you a Yankee’s fan?
NV: My fiancée Robert is; big fan.
SI: Where’d you meet him?
NV: Randomly one day; I was pregnant with Benji, sitting in my car, crying, and he sorta came to my rescue.

Naomi goes on to explain, like Wentz, Robert Coppola is someone she’s strongly attracted too. Going on to say he’s more of a backbone for her; the pair have officially been together for 2 years now and plan to wed in February. Naomi plans on taking an entire year off to focus on her children, who are both in school.

I stopped reading after that. I set the magazine down, refusing to read the rest. I rubbed my face, sitting back, taking it all in.

I needed to do something.

Before even a thought, or a plan, formed, my phone began to ring. I pulled it from my hoodie pocket and saw it was Naomi. My heart flew into my throat for some reason, and I was debating on whether or not to answer. It must be important if she's calling. I finally picked up; "Hey, what's up?"

"When are you coming to Chicago?" Her voice was thick, as if she had been crying.

I leaned forward, "I'm catching a flight now, why? What's wrong? Is it the boys?"

Naomi sniffed, "No, it's Hemy," she said and then she cried, "he died, Pete."

I didn't know what to say. I was speechless.

"Pete, are you there?"

I hummed, "Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I mumbled, "what happened?"

"The vet said it was old age," Naomi let out a sob, "I'm sorry! I didn't know, or I would've called you sooner!"

"Hey, hey," I felt myself becoming choked up, "it's okay."

"Lewis is in consolable right now, he hasn't stopped crying," she exhaled deeply, "Benny didn't cry, he doesn't understand. I'm really sorry, Pete."

"It's not your fault...I'll be there soon."

"We haven't buried him or anything. He's at the veterinary center."

"Okay. What do you wanna do?"

"I dunno," she said, "whatever you want, he was yours."

"He was both of ours, Naomi," I murmured.

"I think cremating him would...would be okay. We can have his ashes."

"Yeah, that sounds okay."

She let out a soft sob, "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Navy," I was feeling tears.

She was silent, then she gave a soft sigh, "The boys can't wait to see you."

I rubbed my eyes, "I can't wait to see them," I breathed, "Lew'll be okay."

"He's just broken up about Hemy...I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

"I know...I know."