I do a double-take and look back at her. “Is that your ride or something?” I bring my shirt up to wipe the sweat off my face.
“Yeah.”
The shirt falls from my grasp and sticks to my wet stomach. “Are you going to Bingo?” That bad feeling worsens.
Her hand lands on my forearm. “Listen, sweetie, I’m leaving Jim. You might not understand this now, but I need to do something for myself. I need you to do one thing.”
I hold up my palm to stop her. “Whoa. Does Jim know?”
“I wrote him a letter. He’ll get it tomorrow, but—”
“Carol, you can’t do this.” If I were younger, tears would be breaking, but I’m numb to the abandonment now.
“Please, just check in on him over the next few days.” She squeezes my arm.
What the hell? I get why she’s leaving. Jim doesn’t do romance. He never bought her flowers or jewelry. Hell, I remember for one of her birthdays, he took her to the Lions Club, but damn, he deserves to be told face-to-face that his wife of forever is leaving him.
“Carol.”
“I just wanted to say good-bye. You don’t need me anymore.”
She pulls me in for a tight and fierce hug then drags her suitcase down the stairs.
“Carol,” I plead over the thumping of her suitcase hitting each step.
The car door squeaks through the dark street, and she swings her suitcase into the old car. “I’ll call you. I love you, Todd.”
The car pulls away from the curb, and my legs weigh me down. I sit on the top stoop, feeling sorry for a man I always felt indifferent toward. Fuck. Even being twenty-seven years old, the nightmares of abandonment still haunt me. It’s as though I’m six years old again, watching my mom drive away from the fire station. This time, I’m not so trusting that I’ll ever see Carol again. Like most things in my life, her time with me was brief.
Not wanting to be there when Jim gets home in a few hours after working his third shift at the fortune cookie factory, I climb down the steps. My pace increases and soon, I’m at a full run, weaving between buildings to bypass the throngs of people piled in the streets as the sweat pours off my body.
I fight the urge to hit something to purge the anger stirring in my body. My hands ball into fists, and my arms swing back and forth. I will not let this ruin everything I’m doing. In high school, I promised myself I’d make something of myself, and I’m so close I can taste it. My hand is on the key to my own restaurant. Newspapers and television stations will be demanding me and my culinary skills. I only need an opportunity to showcase my talent.
I run out of steam a mile later and stop to take a breath. A convenience store’s lights lure me its way to grab a water if I want to make it home. I stand in front of the cooler, looking at the array of water bottles. When did all these different water companies come into play? I remember when there was only tap water. My hands reach the coldness when someone taps on my shoulder.
I turn to my right and find Bruno, Noodle’s brother.
“I thought that was you.” He smiles, all dressed up in what I assume are going-out clothes.
“Hey, Bruno.” The refrigerator door shuts, and I shake his hand.
“What’s up, Todd?”
Noodle invited me to her parents’ house three months ago. Actually, Tatiana, her roommate, invited me one Sunday while we were outside our apartment door. I tried to refuse, saying I had plans, but she refused to accept my polite decline. Now, I go a couple of times a month. Her grandma is a killer cook, and I’m not about to pass up on food like that.
“Just out for a run. You going out?”
He glances back to a few guys at the cashier. “Yeah. You should come.”
“Nah.” I look down at my sweating body.
“You could meet us.”
“No, but thank you. Have a great night.” I walk down the aisle, heading straight to the cashier.
Bruno comes along behind me. “You coming to my parents’ tomorrow?”
“No. Lia didn’t say anything.”
“Come. I have a few things I want to talk to you about.” He steps to the right of me.
I’m wondering why he can’t talk to me about it right here. “Shoot.”
“Not here.”
His boys call out to him before leaving with packs of cigarettes.
“Call me. Lia has my number.” I pay the cashier for my water.
Then, he pays for his cigarettes.
“Those things will kill you.”
We leave the store and his buddies all surround a new Mustang, bullshitting about the motor. I’ve never been a car guy—just as Jim.
“Yeah, yeah. Just come tomorrow. Dinner’s at the usual time.”
It feels odd, going without Noodle’s invitation, but after this shit with Carol and Jim, I need a little family. And no family is as welcoming as Noodle’s family.
“All right. I’ll see you then.”
“Don’t be late,” Bruno warns.
“I won’t.” I laugh and nod at Bruno’s friends surrounding a Mustang parked outside.
CHAPTER FIVE
Amelia
“I wish I could go with you! You know I hate missing Sunday dinners.” Tatiana shuffles her belongings from one purse into another.
I swear, the girl is a walking fashion model. She could have a pile of mismatched items, but for some reason, when she puts them on, it fits, and she’s a knockout.
“I’ll bring you back some leftovers.” I swing my cross-body purse over my shoulders and grab my keys from the table sitting by our front door.
“Although I love Grandma Marie's cooking, it can pack on the pounds, and I just bought a dress that's skin-tight. I can't afford to have my monthly splurge purchase obliterated by Grandma Marie's lasagna.” She pats her stomach.
Tatiana and I are roughly the same size—plus-sizes. Some might refer to a size fourteen as obese, but I don’t much listen to those people.
“Let me know if you want to work out this week. I should have some time.” I open our door and hold it open with my back.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing for your bet with Davis, practicing up on that hot chocolate recipe?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
I shake my head. “Be quiet. I have it in the bag. I’ll win, hands down.”
“Maybe you’d rather lose.” Her eyebrows shoot up again.
I wave and step into the hallway. “See you, Tati.”
“Admit it, Lia, he’s delectable.” Her words ring out before the door slams shut.
A half hour later, I reach my parents’ doorstep. I stop at the top of the cement stairs and take a breath. I almost missed the train, and I jogged the last five blocks from the subway to here just to ensure I wouldn’t be late. As long as I beat my brother, Lucca, I won’t have to be on dish duty. Grandma’s rule is whoever is last to the table cleans. Lucca shares the late gene with me. Luckily, I’ve beaten him every time this year.
The minute I open the door to my parents’ small house, the smell of basil and herbs from my grandma’s sauce swipes away all my other senses. I stop in my tracks, close my eyes, and inhale the scent of home. Peace travels through my limbs. Home.
“Lia!” Lucca hollers.
My head whips in the direction of the dining room.
“No.” My mouth hangs open, seeing my whole family standing around the large table, holding holds.
They’re saying grace?
“Amelia, darling, come over and say grace.” My mom motions with her head as the rest of my family stops snickering.
“Yes, Mom.” I toss my purse onto the table in the foyer and rush over before linking hands with Lucca.
“Suds it up, baby,” my youngest brother whispers in my ear.
I glare.
I hold out my other hand for the person next to me, and it’s another strong grip. I look up, expecting to find another one of my brothers, maybe Marco’s callous palms from his long days at carpentry, but my jaw stretches down again when I find
Todd smiling at me.
He winks and squeezes my hand. The question as to why he’s here since I didn’t invite him surfaces in my head.
“Amen,” I whisper after we finish grace.
Everyone slides their chairs out to sit down while my two nieces scurry over to their designated table in the corner.
I sit down and take the napkin on my plate to position it over my lap. “What are you doing here?” I lean closer to Todd.
“Bruno.”
He straightens his body back up, but I tug on his shirtsleeve and drag him back down.
“Why?”
He shrugs to release my fingers from his shirt. “I don’t know.”
He moves to grab the spoon in the meatball dish, but I yank him toward me again.
“You don’t find that odd, my brother asking you to come to Sunday dinner?”
He releases the handle of the spoon, and his eyes bore down into me with confusion as to why I’m asking such a question. “No. He said he wanted to run something by me, so I came. Thought you’d be happy to see me. I was going to swing by and get you, but with your lack of punctuality, I didn’t feel like being on dish duty tonight.”
He chuckles and I shove his shoulder, only making him knock into my brother, Bruno, the second oldest in the family.
“Leave him alone, Lia. He’s here as my guest.” Bruno threads his fingers through his long dark strands, pushing them away from his face, showing his bright blue eyes. He’s two years older than me, close to hitting thirty, and from what I’ve noticed, he’s scrambling to find a career.
My sight flickers between the two of them, and then I concentrate on the chicken dish that Lucca is patiently holding out for me.
“So, Amelia, why couldn’t you make it on time?” my mom asks.
Everyone at the table points their attention to me. You’d think someone was getting married, and I ran in after the bride reached the altar.
“I got hung up.”
I pass the dish to Todd, and he snickers.
“Who did you get hung up on?” Lucca jokes next to me.
My dad throws a roll at him and it bounces off his head.
“We don’t need your funny comments tonight,” my dad growls from across the table.
My dating life is a moot subject, even with me being twenty-seven. The first time I brought Todd home, the poor guy went through the third degree from my dad, even though he was just being my friend.
“Oh, come on. It’s funny, right?” Lucca holds his hands up.
My baby brother, Enzio, fist-bumps him.
I roll my eyes. “I just lost track of time. I was in the studio.” My head hangs down to my plate as I wait for the usual lecture.
“Camera.” My mom waves her hand in the air, the one movement speaking volumes at the table.
“Photography, Ma,” I remind her with a soft voice.
“What a waste,” she says while maneuvering two dishes in different directions.
My mom has never shied away from communicating her displeasure of my dream. When I spent my savings on my very first camera, she lectured me for two hours on responsibility and how undependable a career in photography would be. She doesn’t even know my artwork is in the form of nudes. I think she might pass out and disown me if I told her that.
“She’s good, Ma. You should see her work,” Marco, the oldest, speaks up.
I smile over to him.
“She really is talented, Mrs. Fiore. Have you seen her work?” Todd asks.
I bang my knee to his under the table. He’s still a newbie here, and I don’t want him to be kicked in his ass by Mom’s size eight.
“Dreams. It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you need to do. Do you think it was your father’s dream to work ten-hour shifts, six days a week, making fortune cookies?”
Her sarcastic comment receives no verbal rebuttal, but my dad’s eyes fixate on mine.
“Amelia, you need to find someone who will take care of you and make that photography dream a hobby.” She points her finger my way.
I concentrate on spinning pasta on my fork.
“Stop it, Bianca,” my grandma chimes in. “She’s young. Let her live her life how she wants.”
I smile at my grandma, and she matches it before occupying herself with eating. She’s never been an overly emotional person, and I’m surprised she was willing to go to bat for me.
The table remains quiet for all of five minutes. The only sound comes from forks scraping against plates. No one dares to bring up anything about their lives, fearing that my mom will offer unwelcome advice or pick it apart.
“Todd.” My grandma’s stern voice carries over the table.
Todd straightens against the back of his chair. “Yes, ma’am?” He places his fork down, wipes his mouth, and gives the elderly lady all his attention.
“Do you like the sauce?”
Everyone’s eyes turn to Todd.
His eyes widen in response. “Yes, very much.”
Isn’t he just the cutest?
“I added something special in it tonight.” She winks, and her mouth widens into a big smile. “Can you guess what it is?”
Todd grabs his spoon and scoops the sauce from his plate. He eats it, and his eyes ping from corner to corner. I can tell he’s trying to figure out the hidden ingredient.
“There’s basil, oregano . . .”
My grandma nods.
“Gram, why would you mess with it?” Bruno takes the ladle and spoons some for himself.
The reason Todd is here clicks in my head. Bruno, the investor. He’s the ‘we need to invent something to present to Shark Tank’ guy. He’s Mr. Let’s Get Rich Quick.
“Peppers? Peperoncino?” Todd nods, knowing he’s right.
All our heads shift back to my grandma, and she laughs.
“Oh, Amelia, he’s a keeper.” She points her finger at him. “You got it.”
“Did you put those in there just to test him, Gram?” I ask her.
She nods, grabbing some bread. “He calls himself a chef, and I wanted to see how good he is. He might have attended that fancy culinary school, but he hasn’t been around a kitchen his whole life.” She grins over to Todd. “You know your stuff, though.”
“Should I expect this at every meal each time I come over here?” Todd asks her.
“Until I stump you, yes.”
Everyone at the table laughs. When I look up, my mom’s eyes are on me and then they flick to Todd. Her face is stern, showing no signs of amusement, like the others at the table. I know what she’s thinking. If Todd is my boyfriend, how will he ever support a bum like me? Not to mention, he isn’t Italian. I have no clue what nationality Todd is, but all that matters to my mom is what he isn’t. In my mom’s eyes, I’m amounting to nothing. I’m only a liberal girl with a dream of taking pictures. I actually think she’d be happier if I sucked my body into a white dress and married an Italian man.
“I accept the challenge.” Todd winks at my grandma.
I swear a pink flush fills her cheeks.
“Stop flirting with my grandma,” I whisper over to him.
His hand falls from the table, and he squeezes my knee as he leans over. “Would you rather I flirt with you?” he coyly asks.
I’m surprised by the flutter in my stomach. “No,” I lie, even though I’ve always enjoyed the flirting between us.
“You aren’t a good liar.” He squeezes my knee one more time, and then his hand disappears to his own side.
A rush of cold shoots up my leg. Grabbing his fork, Todd begins eating again.
The rest of the meal is consumed with talks of waiting lists and admissions into preschools for my two nieces. Bruno speaks in hushed tones to Todd, who incessantly nods like a damn bobblehead. I’m curious about how Todd will react when Bruno asks for money. I can guarantee he’s going to.
After dinner is over, Lucca elbows me to start clearing the table. I narrow my eyes at him and stand to clean up the dishes.
I lean over to retrieve his, and I whisper, “Don’t forget about that time I helped you.”
He chuckles. “Like, four years ago?” he sneers.
It’s not that I didn’t already assume he wouldn’t be assisting me. What does surprise me is when Todd stands from his seat and picks up the dishes on the other side of the table.
We meet up in the middle where my parents are, and he takes my mom’s plate as I do my dad’s.
“You don’t have to help me.”
He raises a shoulder. “I want to.”
“Thank you.” I step into the kitchen, and the dishes almost drop out of my hands when I see the piles of pots and pans. “We’re going to be here for forever,” I say, exasperated.
Todd places the dishes piled in his hands down onto the side of the sink. “We’ll get through it. You forget, I was a dish boy once upon a time.”
He turns on the faucet then takes the sponge and soap, as though he’s armed for duty.
“I have this, Todd.” I bump my hip with his to scoot him out of the way.
He bumps me back. “Go clear the table, and then come back and help me dry.”
“You’re such a dictator.”
“You don’t want to find out how bossy I can be.” His head peers over his shoulder.
“Maybe I do.” I sway my hips, adding an exaggerated effect, on my way out of the room.
He doesn’t say anything back, but when I give him a second look before breaking through the doorway, I find his eyes on me. There goes that stomach flipping.
“Keep swinging that ass, and you’ll find out.”
A low heat slowly rises up my neck.
“Amelia!” My mom’s voice booms next to me when I step into the dining room.
I startle. “Mom!”
“Why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?” She places the back side of her hand to my forehead. “You feel hot.”
I can hear Todd’s light laughter behind me, and I weave by her. “I’m fine, Ma. Just hot in the kitchen.”
“I’d say so. I’m guessing anywhere Todd is feels hot,” my grandma says, standing up and snatching a few bowls.
“Grandma, he’s never going to come over again.” Enzio kisses her cheek as a thank-you for dinner on his way out of the room.
“Yeah, let’s give it a rest, Mom.” My dad squeezes my shoulder as he passes by me and straight into the family room. That’s his nonverbal apology to my mom’s earlier drilling during dinner.
Seeing You Page 4