Game On

by Barbara Oliverio

Sammy threw his head back and laughed, interrupting me.

  “What?” I asked, bruised.

  “Oh, Maisie, you never change.”

  “What does that mean?” I switched from bruised to ready to brawl.

  “Sweetheart, you just pile everything into your brain and swish it around like a blender on high speed.”

  “Go on.”

  “Look. Let’s take these things one by one.” He sat up and leaned forward in a pastoral pose with his elbows on his knees.

  “One: your suggestions. I’m sure they are being heard. I’m sure some are good and some are, um, not so good. If you believe in them, stand by them. But be patient. You are usually the sharpest crayon in the pack, and sometimes other people have to catch up to you. Two: your station owner. What makes you believe he thinks you are odd? Has he said so? And if he does, so what? They hired you, so they must have wanted whatever brand of odd you are packing. Not for nothing, kid, but you are a Valenti. We do have our own brand of odd, right?”

  I laughed. He had me there.

  “Three: If you are staying true to your principles and ethics, no one can tear you down. Four—”

  “I didn’t bring up a four.”

  “But I have one for you. Be confident in how you were made and don’t lose your faith. Just get out of your own way and things will generally work out.”

  I jumped from my rocker to pile onto him.

  “You’re the best, Sammy.”

  “Maisie, you knew everything I said. You don’t need anyone to tell you.”

  “Yes, but sometimes it’s good to hear it from the outside.”

  We turned as we heard a horn honking and a vehicle pull into the drive. On cue, Angelo’s family exited their minivan and joined the pile on the swing, which creaked even more ominously.

  “Poppy will be so angry if we break this swing!” Sammy admonished the wriggling twins.

  “Oh, I think you should worry more about Nana!”

  We were all making so much noise that we didn’t hear Anthony’s car pull in or notice him and Addison come up the stairs. Without prompting, Anthony began swinging us dangerously while Addison stood back a bit.

  I thought, why not, and reached up to pull Addison onto the top of the pile. Her normally perfect hair flew into her face, and one of her immaculate shoes went flying across the porch as she joined in the raucous activity.

  Laughter filled the air, and we stopped only seconds before Ma came through the front door.

  “What’s going on out here? Who’s being loud?” she said in an admonishing tone that no one believed for a minute was real. The twins rushed to her side and pointed to the bedraggled group of adults with shoes missing, clothes askew, and, in some cases, hair in disarray.

  We innocently righted ourselves and trooped inside toward the heart of the house, the kitchen, each one leaning down to hug Ma on the way.

  “See? They like you,” I heard Anthony whisper to Addison. They had paused in the hallway as I was climbing the stairs to change from my dress clothes, not knowing they could be overheard.

  “If you say so, Tony” was followed by the pause of what had to be a prolonged kiss, then a sigh.

  Well. Things were getting curiouser and curiouser all the time.

  The merry mood of the swing incident carried over inside as Ma put everyone to work to complete the meal. Even though Sammy’s favorite, pork tenderloin with prosciutto and figs, was roasting in the oven, many other moving parts needed attending to. The table needed setting, side dishes needed making, salad needed preparing, and no meal was complete without some sort of pasta.

  “Well, I guess we know Anthony is home since we’re having pasta fra diavolo,” commented Angelo.

  “Uh, you are here 98 percent of the time, Angelo, and can have her make your pasta arrabiata whenever you want it,” retorted Anthony.

  “We’re just lucky it isn’t gnocchi since Queen Maisie is here,” whispered Angelo.

  “Hey!” I threatened with the cucumber I was chopping for the salad.

  “I guess you could all make these things at your own homes for yourself?” offered Addison, tentatively.

  We all stopped, then burst out laughing.

  “That’s right, give it to them,” said Lucy. “I’m usually the only in-law to add some common sense around here.”

  We glanced surreptitiously at Anthony and Addison. Were they even at the point where “in-law” could be in the cards? Both deftly ignored the observation.

  Lucy continued, “I know what their answers would be, though, Addison. ‘But it’s never as good as Ma’s’.”

  “Well …” I began, and the boys shrugged silently.

  Ma whipped the nearest brother with a towel.

  “Keep working or there will be no pasta at all.”

  Finally, we were all seated around the massive table in the room that had been the deal-breaker in the house purchase. Not only had Ma wanted a house big enough to fit the family, she also apparently wanted a dining room large enough to feed an army.

  Pop was out of town at a weekend football clinic for disadvantaged youth, so Sammy took the place at the head of the table.

  “Isn’t this nice?” Ma said when we began passing food around. “It would be nice if your father was here and your other brothers, but we’ll make do with this small group.”

  I sneaked a glance at Addison. I didn’t know how big her family was, so I didn’t know if she thought Ma was crazy in calling this a “small group.” As if reading my mind, Sammy asked the question.

  “How many are in your family, Addison?”

  “Just my parents and me, Father.”

  Angelo hooted. “You can call him Sammy. Kind of hard to call him Father in that getup.”

  “Hush!” said Ma. “He’s due the respect of the collar.”

  The rest of us choked back a laugh. Sammy was our brother who once duct-taped two other brothers together and suspended them from a tree in the backyard. Kind of hard to rustle up respect with that memory in mind.

  Sammy, of course, was perfectly kind in his response.

  “Thank you for calling me Father, but here at home, it is perfectly okay to call me Sam. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. How did it feel being an only child? That must have been pleasant.”

  He glared around the table.

  Addison shared a few childhood stories, prompted by Sammy and Ma, and we were nearly done with the entree when Angelo landed a question that I was hoping to sidestep.

  “So. Mais. How was dinner with Captain Awesome?”

  Darn. So close. We could have gone through the whole meal without that.

  “That’s right, Maisie. I forgot. Tell us about your night at the gala.” Ma’s eyes sparkled.

  “Sammy and Anthony and Addison were there, too.” I tried to deflect.

  “Oh, no. You go ahead and tell.” Anthony leaned back and propped his elbow on the back of his chair.

  I looked to Sammy for backup but was obviously not going to get any.

  “My dress was really pretty, Ma. And Phyllis loaned me Helga, her hair and makeup person to help me get ready. You should have seen my hair.”

  “No, no, she doesn’t want to hear that.” Anthony’s eyes glittered. “Anyone can show her pictures of how you looked. Tell her about the dinner itself. And tell her about your date.”

  He was at the other end of the table so I couldn’t kick him, but when I had the chance, I was going to punch him so hard.

  “The dinner was very nice, Ma. Anthony and Addison were at the same table. You can ask them, too.” Take that, big brother.

  “I’ll get to them in a minute. Right now I want to hear what you have to say.” Ma leaned forward. Rats.

  I broke off a piece of bread and stared at it for a moment to delay, then began.

  “I don’t really think you could call it a date, Ma. He was a very nice escort, but he seemed kind of—”

  “Detached?” Addison finished my sentence for me. I pulled my he
ad up and caught her eye.

  “Exactly. You saw it, too, Addison?”

  “It’s just how he is, Maisie. He really is only fully engaged when he’s on camera.”

  “And not even then,” muttered Angelo.

  I chose to ignore him, even though he was right.

  “I can’t imagine you being bored, Maisie.” Ma shook her head.

  At that, Anthony, Addison, and I all burst into laughter.

  “No, Ma, it was anything but boring,” Anthony said. Addison and I looked at each other, and she threw a chunk of bread at me.

  “All right, now. I expect this out of my kids, but not you, Addison.”

  “So sorry, Mrs. Valenti, but well, Calliope Newsome was at our table, too, and—” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

  That’s because Anthony, Addison, and I competed to imitate Calliope’s gluten-free, vegan oration that was punctuated by her other catty comments. In the light of day, even her snark about my less-than-perfect comparison to Anthony and Sammy was more hysterical than hurtful.

  “Wait,” said Sammy, “I need important information. Who did she say was more handsome? Tony or me?”

  That even brought a laugh from Ma.

  “What did her date think? Who was that unfortunate soul?” asked Angelo.

  “Maisie’s college crush, Alek Markovich,” said Anthony.

  “He was not my crush,” I began and noticed Addison’s look. Great. All I needed was for people in the office to think that I had a thing for Alek. Oh, wait. What was I thinking? The odds that Addison would share gossip in the office were nil. The fact that she was this open with us was odd enough.

  “Well. Enough. We don’t need to gossip about these poor souls.” Ma came to her senses and looked meaningfully at the twins, who had been hanging on to every word. “Let’s clear these dishes and get dessert out here.” Leave it to Ma to bring the conversation to the high road.

  We made quick work of clearing the table, and Addison pulled me aside. Uh-oh.

  “Maisie, would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow morning before work?”

  “Why, um, sure.” What, was she going to give me instructions on how to act in the office or something, now that she was dating my brother?

  “Great.” She fixed the time and restaurant—even casual Addison was precise.

  “Yep.” Great.

  22

  Pace, pace, pace.

  Sit and tap foot.

  Pace, pace, pace.

  “Maisie, you’re just having coffee with a co-worker, not entertaining the queen of England.”

  Phyllis was slouching around the kitchen the next morning, making tea and toast while I was waiting just a few more minutes before leaving. She had returned home late the night before, and I had pounced on her to bring her up to speed on all events.

  “I know, but when I get to the office, I’ll probably run into Campbell, right? So I don’t know how to react to him. See. Never date in the office.”

  “You’re right.”

  “What do you mean? You encouraged me to go out with him!”

  “Yes, but I also told you that guys who don’t order proper sushi were a bad bet,” she shrugged.

  Aughh.

  “Plus, Princess Calliope might be in the office today. I need to deal with her.”

  “Trust me, she won’t even know you’re there.”

  “Explain, please.”

  “Do you honestly think she gives you more than a moment’s thought? You were just a convenient target on Saturday. Today you are an invisible nobody.”

  “Ouch.”

  “It’s true. But I think you are forgetting one person you do need to deal with.”

  Right. Alek. How horrible that he had to cope with being with Calliope the whole evening. Why did he even go with her? I had seen him date some real winners in college, but Calliope was in a league of her own.

  “I don’t know. Alek is a rock. He’ll be fine by the time we cover the game next week.”

  “Maisie!”

  “What?” I gathered my belongings to leave.

  “Never mind. You’ll figure it out.” She meticulously buttered her toast.

  “Figure what out?”

  Phyllis took an ostentatious bite, choosing not to answer, preferring to shrug her shoulders.

  “I don’t have time for this, Phyl. If I’m late, Addison will … well, I actually don’t know what she’ll do, come to think of it.”

  “It’s nothing, Maisie. Scoot along. Go. Scoot!”

  Phyllis could be such an enigma, but I didn’t have time to deal with her. I had to meet the newest inscrutable woman in my life.

  I took a deep breath as I entered the ultra-trendy coffee shop that Addison had selected. It reminded me of my own most recent place of employment, but this one was peopled with oodles more hipsters and had an insouciant charm amped to the max. I navigated tables of earnest, flannel-clad, horn-rimmed coffee drinkers staring intently at their laptops. I was only able to pick out the men from the women by the fact that the men sported with-it beard-and-mustache combos.

  Addison was comfortably seated in a corner table and waved me toward her.

  “Mmm. What is that delicious thing you are having?” I figured I was safe by starting the conversation with a food-related comment.

  “It’s a Nanaimo bar. It’s a Canadian treat. The owner of this shop is from Canada and has these here all the time. We can share this one—it’s huge.”

  I nodded, dropped my belongings, and went to the bar to retrieve a cup of tea for myself.

  “So,” we began simultaneously after I sat and took a bite of the rich chocolate and cream pastry she had split in two. Awkward.

  “Maisie, I thought we had better have a conversation, given the turn of circumstances in our lives.”

  “I agree.” Brace yourself, Maisie. This could go in any direction.

  “I know the opinion that people have of me in the office.”

  “Oh, no—” I began, but stopped when I saw her glance.

  “People assume that I’m a cold-hearted bitch. Don’t try to disagree, Maisie. I’m not blind or deaf. I admit that I prefer things a certain way and am rather organized.”

  Rather?

  “But I’ve been there awhile, and after I started I saw what happened to women who weren’t taken seriously. I was always good at my job, but I knew I had to project a certain air to make sure I was taken seriously. Think of the women in the office who aren’t.”

  Unfortunately, my mind went straight to our big-haired, tight-skirted receptionist Rachel. She was an adequate receptionist, but no one was exactly lining up to suggest she be promoted to office manager or that she should apply for any other position.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Maisie, it’s not a problem. I don’t need to be mistaken for the captain of the cheer squad.”

  I glanced at her tailored ensemble and rigid French braid, so different from her look at Ma’s dinner. But even at that casual gathering, she had been polished and sophisticated in a neat blouse and capris, with her hair parted on the side and allowed to swing loose. She saw me eyeing her outfit and laughed.

  “I know. My ‘uniform’ is part of it. I’ll bet you were shocked the first time to see that my hair could actually come out of my braid.”

  “Well …”

  “In any case, Maisie, the first woman to work in any capacity in sports at the station was Calliope Newsome.”

  My face must have gone into an involuntary grimace.

  “Exactly,” she continued. “I was trying to raise the bar at the station, and Calliope came into the one department that was male-dominated and certainly didn’t do us any favors.”

  “She doesn’t do the entire field of women in sports broadcasting any favors, if truth be told,” I said. “She is the exact stereotype that I have had to fight ever since I picked up a wooden spoon and used it as a microphone to pretend to interview my teddy bear.” I took a big gulp of tea.

  “Well, C
alliope has her … quirks, let’s say. And you certainly were treated to them at dinner the other night. But I didn’t invite you here to talk about her. Well, not specifically. See, when you were hired, I really thought, here comes another one. A pretty face that Mathis and Daniel had hired just to have one in the Sports Department.”

  “Hey!” I started, then thought for a minute. Wait. She thought I was hired because I was pretty? I shook my head and focused.

  “But you saw my resume, Addison. You knew I had the background.”

  “Resumes can be fudged, Maisie.”

  “But I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  She was right. Why would she know that? In HR, she must have seen thousands of resumes, and a certain percentage had to be faked in some way.

  I pulled myself up in my chair. “Well, what changed your mind?” I asked with more force than necessary.

  “That. Right there.” She laughed again. Addison’s laugh was really the kind of laugh that people described when they said “bell-like.” “You are a go-getter, you back up your words with actions, you don’t take guff from anyone. You went into that Sports Department and became large-and-in-charge.”

  “Wait. That’s a phrase my brother uses. Are you suddenly being nice to me because of him?”

  “Certainly not.” She bristled, and shades of her office persona seeped out. “I admit that I do see a side of you with your family that I don’t see at the office, but it’s not a different side, it’s just a more in-depth view of who you always are.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know that you might not believe that Anthony and I could be as earnest as we are so soon, but I hope that you trust us.”

  I thought for a moment, then spoke.

  “To be honest, at first I didn’t think so, given that Anthony is one of the more ... flirtatious, shall we say, of my siblings. But I can see what he sees in you. And you know I definitely see what you see in him. But, be honest with me. Are the two of you that serious already?”

  She hesitated a fraction of a moment too long.

  “We’re seeing where things are going. I have enjoyed meeting and getting to know your family.”

  Oh, Addison, that was not fooling anyone. I could recognize smitten.