Questions I Want to Ask You

by Michelle Falkoff

  Mia claps her hands, still bouncing. No wonder she’s so skinny—that girl has energy to burn. “Very efficient! I’m not sure that’s everything, but it’s a good start. You next.” She points at Matt.

  “This was your idea,” he protests, but he’s resigned. “Let’s see: Matteo Andreas Lombardi, but Matty or Matt is better, though I get why Pack is probably not going to start calling me Matty anytime soon. Seventeen, heading into summer of senior year, shooting for a baseball scholarship so I can help pay for college, currently serving as Mia’s chauffeur until baseball camp starts, single for the summer and ready to party. That’s all I’ve got.”

  “Matty is kind of boring,” Mia says. “It’s okay, though. He’s a good person. That’s more important.”

  “I’m sure he’s not boring,” I say. “If he is, then I am too.”

  “Maybe,” she says, but it’s somehow not insulting coming from her. “He’s leaving things out too, but that’s okay. Matty says we don’t have to share everything with everyone all the time.”

  “You have to share some things, though,” I point out. “It’s your turn.”

  She nods. “Correct. It is my turn. I’m Mia Nicole Lombardi. I don’t have a nickname because my name is too short and it would be confusing if people called me something like Mi. Then they’d sound silly.” The thought of it clearly entertains her, though. “I’m twelve years old and I’m in middle school. I like school because I like learning, but I don’t like school sometimes because the other kids aren’t always so nice. I’m going to drama camp this summer so I can learn to get along better with other people. It’s only been a few days but so far I think it’s working. I don’t know if you noticed, but I like to say what I think. All the time.”

  “I noticed,” I say, stifling a laugh, because I can see it’s a big deal for her to tell me this. “I think it’s terrific.”

  “You do?” She sounds surprised.

  “I do. I’m excited you’re my cousin. I like the idea of being part of your family.” I mean it, too. Meeting Matt and Mia is like getting a birthday present I didn’t even know I wanted.

  “Okay, then,” she says. “I’m going to go upstairs and think about things for a while. Matt, let me know when Mom and Dad get home.”

  “Will do,” he says.

  Mia runs upstairs. Matt waits until she’s out of earshot, then says, “That was huge.”

  “What was?”

  “She likes you. She doesn’t like a lot of people. She can be kind of a lot, and not everyone reacts to that very well.”

  “I don’t know why,” I say. “I like her.”

  Matt looks closely at me, trying to figure out whether I really mean it. I don’t know what my face is telling him, but he leans back, satisfied. “That’s good. I have a feeling things are about to get kind of complicated around here, and it’s better not to have any more drama than we need to, you know?”

  Oh, I know.

  “I have to admit, I’m pretty pissed at Mom for keeping this a secret. Can’t promise there won’t be some yelling.”

  “I understand,” I say. “I’ve been trying to hold back on the yelling myself.”

  Before I can say more, I hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and I try to prepare myself for what’s next.

  My aunt is home.

  12

  Matt gets up and goes over to the window. I follow him, trying not to stand too close like some sort of creeper. He pulls the curtain aside and I see two people get out of an SUV. “Mom and Dad are home,” he says.

  I haven’t even contemplated the fact that I have an uncle, too. “They share one car?”

  Matt nods. “They both work downtown, and they decided they’d see more of each other if they carpooled. My car used to be Mom’s, but they figured they didn’t need it. It’s only been a few months, so we’ll see how it goes.”

  I’m impressed Matt managed to make that car so very much his own in such a short time, down to the smell of his baseball gear. I’ve been kind of religious about keeping my truck spotless, but that’s just how I like it.

  I watch my aunt and uncle walk up the driveway. I’m not sure what I was expecting them to look like in person—I only had a hint of what my aunt looks like now from her Facebook picture. She looks basically the same—a lot like Matt and Mia, with the same thick, dark hair and strong nose. She isn’t pretty, exactly, but she’s a person you want to look at more. I wonder whether she looks like my mother now. She does kind of look like me. And my uncle may as well be related—he’s also dark haired and dark eyed, and not very tall. Where my aunt has laugh lines around her eyes, he has frown lines by his mouth. I hope it’s not a sign of his personality.

  I have no idea what will happen when they open the door, but I’m about to find out. My uncle comes in first, holding two big bags with Asian lettering. Apparently they got Chinese takeout. My aunt walks in behind him, keys in hand. So she does the driving. I don’t know whether to walk up to them or stay where I am, which is all but hiding behind Matt. “Mia!” he yells. “The parents are home! With food!”

  I wait as Mia comes running down the stairs. She practically slams into my aunt, who neatly dodges her, puts her keys down on a side table, and drops her purse on top of them. Then she turns to me and opens her arms. “Patrick,” she says warmly.

  I’m stiff for a second, but then I step forward. She pulls me into a tight hug that lasts longer than I thought hugs were supposed to. But then again, Dad and I aren’t big huggers, and hugs with Maddie are usually a stepping-stone to something else, so what do I know? And it feels nice. Comforting, even, though my aunt can’t know how much comforting I need after the breakup.

  “Pack,” Mia says. “That’s what he said we should call him.”

  “Pack, then,” she says. “I see you’ve met the kids already. That’s good.” She grabs her husband’s hand and tugs him toward me. “This is your uncle Mike. And you can call me Aunt Reggie.” It’s my first official confirmation that I was right about her being my aunt. “We’re so happy to have you here. Are you hungry?”

  I’m not, though given that I’ve barely eaten since breakfast, I should be. Everyone else seems pretty eager to eat, though, so I nod. “I’m glad to be here.”

  “We have a lot to talk about, but dinner first. Do you like Chinese food?” She walks into the kitchen and starts pulling white cartons and aluminum trays out of the bags my uncle left on the table.

  “Sure.” I haven’t actually eaten Chinese food in years that I didn’t make myself. I use liquid aminos instead of soy sauce, since soy is a legume and therefore not part of the Paleo plan. And the Chinese food I ate as a kid was mostly appetizers—spareribs, Peking ravioli, fried chicken fingers dipped in bright pink sweet-and-sour sauce. We called it Boston Chinese, as if to highlight how not-authentic it was. If the soy wasn’t enough to get me to stop eating it, the sugar and flour and grease were.

  What my aunt and uncle brought home looks healthier, though. Lots of colorful vegetables, chicken, tofu, and brown rice. I can skip the tofu and the rice and keep the sauce minimal and it won’t kill me, I figure. Better that than to have their first impression of me be of how strange my eating habits are. Besides, Maddie was on me to be more flexible. If only she could see me now.

  We all load up plates with food and then sit at the big dining table that separates the open kitchen from the living room. Dad and I usually sit in front of the TV when we eat together, on our big leather couch, so this kind of family dinner is unusual for me. I feel both out of place and totally welcome at the same time. It’s not a bad feeling; it’s just confusing, like everything else these days.

  Despite the fact that we’re all sitting together, dinner is a more chaotic affair than I’m used to. Mia talks nonstop, and Aunt Reggie and Uncle Mike are so busy trying to keep up, they don’t seem to notice that Matt barely says a word. I don’t know whether this is normal or a function of how angry he is, though from what he said I thought the ye
lling would start right away. Apparently he needs a little time to process before he launches into whatever fit of rage he has in mind.

  I can tell Aunt Reggie wants to ask me as many questions as I want to ask her, but it’s also clear she doesn’t see dinner as the appropriate setting. Instead, when Mia finally exhausts her list of stories about camp, she and Uncle Mike start in with stories of their own, about work. Uncle Mike works in a bank as a loan officer, and he’s got lots of funny anecdotes about people who come in to request loans for seriously bizarre things—one woman wants to get plastic surgery so she can work as an impersonator for a famous movie star; another man wants to start his own casino so he can make back all the money he lost gambling. As I watch him talk, I see that the lines around his mouth aren’t from frowning at all. I’ve never heard anyone laugh so hard at his own jokes.

  Aunt Reggie works at a different bank as a teller, which explains why they’re able to align their schedules so easily. She doesn’t say much about the people who come to her window; her stories are all about coworkers. Apparently banks are as full of drama as high schools. “You know they fired Teresa, right? I must have told you all that. It’s why we’ve been so busy. Anyway, they finally replaced her, and guess who they hired?” She looks around the table as if the answer should have been obvious. “Cynthia Rourke. You know her son Dylan, don’t you, Matty?”

  She says it all casual, but Matt instantly loses his sulk for a minute before he remembers he’s still mad. He slumps back down in his chair. “Yeah, I know him.” Then he pretends not to look interested while he waits for Aunt Reggie to say more.

  There’s a long pause, and it’s so strange—it’s like I can hear a whole conversation in the silence, though I’m not sure I understand it. Aunt Reggie knows Matt’s pissed off, but she’s not going to take it on directly. Instead, she’s going to draw him out by talking about someone he knows, and based on the combination of sulk-loss and face-reddening, there’s something significant about him. I just don’t know what it is.

  “She mentioned that you and Dylan had some classes together this year. Is that right, honey?”

  “Trig,” Matt grunts.

  “He’s going to be around all summer. Extra training for the track team, apparently. Dylan told her the track they’re running on is right near the field where your baseball practices are held. Isn’t that interesting?”

  “He told his mother that?” Matt’s sitting back up in his chair now.

  “I guess it just came up in conversation,” Aunt Reggie says. “Maybe you’ll run into him one of these days. It sounds like he might enjoy that.”

  The way they’re talking reminds me of the kind of shit we used to give Sean before he got together with Kelsey. But Dylan’s not a girl . . . and I’m an idiot, I realize. Matt’s gay.

  Clearly Matt’s crush on Dylan is old news to the family. I look around the table, where Mia has made a perfect circle of rice around the outside rim of her plate and divided her food into neat categories. Uncle Mike is hiding a smile, and I’m glad to know that they all seem to accept Matt for who he is. When Brooke and Lauren came out they had a really hard time; I hope it wasn’t like that for Matt.

  “I could text him,” Matt says, pretending to sound all grudging. He’s not fooling anyone, except maybe Mia.

  Aunt Reggie nods, as if to indicate she’s accomplished her mission, and then she turns to me. “Pack, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve started getting to know the kids. I have so many questions for you. Maybe after dinner we can—”

  She doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out, because Matt is on it. She’s only delayed the inevitable. “We spent the whole afternoon hanging out,” he says. “You can do the get-to-know-you stuff without us. How about you explain why we didn’t know we had another cousin? Or that you have a sister?”

  Aunt Reggie frowns. Uncle Mike starts to say something, but she shushes him. “No, hon, it’s okay. Matty’s right. We do have some explaining to do.”

  “This ought to be good,” Matt mutters, and this time Uncle Mike doesn’t hold back.

  “You asked the question, so now you’ll let your mother talk, and you’ll listen. Respectfully.” I guess some of those lines are frown lines after all.

  “Fine,” Matt says. “Whatever.”

  Aunt Reggie turns to me. “Pack, you have to understand, this is a very complicated situation. We have a lot to discuss, if you don’t have to run off—we have a guest room and we’d love to have you stay.”

  “Stay!” Mia shouts.

  This is all the encouragement I need. I don’t love the idea of driving home in the dark, and I looked up some inexpensive motels in the area, but it’s cheaper to stay here. And more fun.

  “I’m so pleased.” Aunt Reggie looks at Matt and Mia. “Kids, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about Pack and his mom. We didn’t mean to lie, but we thought it would be confusing for you. To be honest, it’s quite confusing for me as well. Now, I know you want to know everything right away, but I’m going to need a little time to think about how best to explain all this and it seems only fair that I talk to Pack first.”

  Matt’s about to interrupt, and I don’t think whatever he’s about to say will make his parents happy, so I jump in first. “I don’t mind if everyone hears. We all want to know the same things.”

  “That may well be true, and I appreciate your openness, Pack, but not all parts of the story are necessarily appropriate for everyone.” She’s clearly talking about Mia, who’s more than smart enough to figure that out.

  “You’re not going to say I’m too young, are you? You know I hate when you say that. I’m old enough to get married in some countries.”

  “Well, you’d need an appropriate suitor first, and parental consent,” Aunt Reggie says. “And besides, the fact that you’re old enough to do something doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. Do you remember when I let you read whatever books you wanted when you were little, and you gave yourself nightmares with that book about the pets that came back to life after they died? Was it a good idea for me to let you do that?”

  “Yes it was, because I learned to set limits even when I read above my age level.” Mia crosses her arms over her chest, secure in the knowledge she’s scored a solid point.

  Aunt Reggie groans. “I don’t know why I ever try to argue with you. Mia, you’re going to have to let me sleep on it. I will tell you as much as I deem appropriate, but it might not be the same time I talk to Pack. Can you give me that time to think?” She asks in a way that indicates she’ll really listen to the answer, like if Mia says no she’ll come up with something else. But Mia nods reluctantly; they’ve obviously had conversations like this before. “Now, I do want a few minutes alone with Pack. Mike, how about you take the kids out for ice cream, once they’re done with the dishes, and I can show him around?”

  He nods as Mia squeals and Matt scowls. It’s very clear who’s in charge in this house. I wonder whether it would have been like that in my house, had my mother been around.

  Aunt Reggie gets up and gestures to me to follow her upstairs, giving me a little house tour as we go. “You’ve already seen the kitchen and the living room, and apparently you spent half the day in the basement. Such a shame on a beautiful day like this. The master bedroom and bath are on the main floor as well. Up here is kid territory, which means I can’t vouch for how any of it looks or smells. I don’t go upstairs unless I have to.” She says it with a laugh, but I’m not sure she’s kidding.

  I become convinced she’s serious when we peek into Matt’s room, which is basically a replica of his car, with sports equipment and workout clothes all over the place. It smells like the car, too, with an overlay of body spray. Mia’s room is much more orderly, all spotless and primary colors and right angles. Even the books on her shelf are organized by color, giving it a kind of rainbow effect.

  My aunt leads me down the hall to a small room with light-colored walls, a double bed with a navy comforter, a plaid a
rmchair in the corner, and a simple wooden dresser. It’s small and neat and perfect. “This is your room, Pack. For as long as you want it. We’re so happy to have you here. I know I keep saying that, but it’s true.”

  “I’m happy too,” I say. And I mean it, but some other feelings besides happiness are starting to creep in. Along with more questions, like if she’s so glad to see me, why didn’t she seek me out earlier? Why did she wait for me to find her?

  Aunt Reggie looks at me intently. “Are you sure? Is everything okay?”

  I’m not used to someone watching me so closely, especially not someone who can so easily tell how other people are feeling. I want a good start with her; I don’t want to ask all the hard questions so soon. Especially not before she’s told me everything I want to know about my mother. “I’m fine,” I say. “I just broke up with my girlfriend a couple of days ago, and I guess I’m still kind of dealing with that.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says, and wraps me in another hug. Two hugs in one day—it must be some kind of record for me. “I’m so sorry. Breakups are just terrible, aren’t they?”

  I nod into her shoulder. I feel guilty using Maddie as an excuse to avoid talking about what’s really bothering me, but it’s not like I’ve somehow gotten over the breakup, either. Just mentioning it brings everything back, that wave of guilt and anger mixed with a strange humiliation, like getting goaded into dumping Maddie is some kind of embarrassing personal failure. It’s hard to explain, even to myself. But being here does make me feel better, even if it’s only as a distraction.