by Mia Caldwell
“I don’t think Julio’s Godson is to blame here. If anyone is, it’s me,” Grand Mama said.
“Oh, yeah, how so?” asked Mamacita, brightening up for the first time since they’d seen her that morning.
“My daughter was angry with me. I should never have agreed to allow the documentary filmmakers to spring things on my daughters the way that I did. I should have found a better way to let my two daughters know that I was alive. I handled it poorly, and it’s my fault that Joan was so upset.”
Mamacita spoke up. “I’m glad you realize that. Would you like a croissant?”
“Yes, darling, but perhaps just a tiny slice...”
The triplets, unable to hold the upside-down position any longer, collapsed and rolled back onto their bellies, quickly propping their chubby fists under the chins for support as they waited for the adult conversation to continue.
They watched as their father’s mother, the one they called Mamacita, cut the croissant into two pieces and put the largest slice in front of the other grandmother in the room.
Their Grand Mama smiled graciously to her hostess, but didn’t touch the pastry. Instead, she continued to speak on the matter at hand.
“I did some soul searching of my own. I’ve decided to see if I can get out of the contract to do the documentary. At the very least, I’ll try and stop the intrusions on the family. I should never have done what I did. I should have realized how insensitive and wrong my behavior- I mean, the director’s approach was.”
The triplets watched as their mother’s mother dabbed a silk handkerchief gently at her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she said. The boys could see she was watching her oldest daughter, as if to make sure she’d noticed her distress.
“Hey, I know that game,” Ryland said, and the others knew he was talking about the fake tears.
“Yeah, like I said, she’s cool.”
They all nodded. But, then frowned when they saw their mother getting upset. She ran over to their Grand Mama who was now fake shaking her shoulders with her dry eyes still hidden behind the hanky. “Mom, it wasn’t that bad. Joan was just overreacting. You shouldn’t quit the documentary – it’s an important story, what happened to you. You’re not the one who should be apologizing as far as I’m concerned. I still say it was that louse, Antonio Ferraro, that screwed up her life.”
Their Grand Mama sat up straight, made another dry dab at her eyes, forced a sniff, then said, “Sweetheart, perhaps he’s culpable as well, but that doesn’t diminish my part in this. Please, just accept my apology and allow me to find a way to help you deal with this situation.”
Their elegant Grand Mama dropped her head and turned away again, and their mother, father, and the other adults all became silent for a while with their own thoughts.
Marco decided at that moment to let out a long, juicy fart.
“Marco!” Ryland and Hunter said at the same time as they gasped, tried to cover their nose and mouth with their hands, and speed crawl away from him all at the same time.
But, then Marco spoke, as if he’d breaking gas had given him a powerful insight. “Hey, did she just say Auntie Joan’s friend was called Antonio Ferraro?”
Hunter responded, “Yeah, so?”
“I know who he is. I’ve seen him play, he’s an amazing forward, plays for AC Milan.”
Hunter and Ryland stared at their brother.
“How the heck do you know that?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah! And what’s a forward?” Ryland wanted to know.
“A forward is... never mind, you wouldn’t understand, Ryland. It’s a soccer position, anyhow, whenever papa and I watch soccer together and we get to see AC Milan play, he always points out Antonio Ferraro, because, for one thing, he’s outstanding and for another thing, he’s like Papa’s God son, or something like that.”
“You watch soccer with papa? I don’t believe you. When?” Hunter said.
“When you guys are asleep, on the nights when he’s home. He sometimes comes and gets me, and he takes me to the living room. It’s something we do.”
“He wakes you up to watch television?” Ryland asked with clear jealousy on his face. “Why doesn’t he wake us up?”
“Because he knows better. You slackers aren’t going to be the star athlete in this family someday. But, papa knows that I will be. Just like he knows I’m going to be the first one to walk. You wait and see.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Marco the Jock – rub it in. But, you aren’t going to be the ladies’ man like Ryland over here, and you’re not going to be the brilliant business man like me so, go ahead – enjoy your peak. It won’t last long.”
“Hunter, you’re a turd sometimes. You know that, don’t you?” Marco said.
“Takes one to know one,” Hunter said back, muttering, with his chubby arms crossed over his chest.
“Quiet – they’re saying something!” Ryland hissed.
The three rugrats turned their concentration back on the proceedings. Their clever Grand Mama was speaking again, in her clear and well-modulated voice. “I have a proposal and I want you to all hear me out.”
“We’re listening,” said Julio.
“I think first, we need to look at Joan’s minor slip-up as just that. A minor slip-up.”
“Minor slip up?” said Mama Lissa, with an unbelieving tone. “She was arrested for helping herself to drinks in a closed bar at the Grand Hotel of all places.”
“The charges were dropped, so there was no arrest. I’ve already taken care of the damages at the hotel, and they’ve agreed not to say anything to the press. The problem has been taken care of. No harm, no foul.”
“But my sister drank again, don’t you understand? My baby’s nanny! She’s an alcoholic. And she’s drinking again. How can I be expected to go on a honeymoon for two weeks and leave my babies in her care? How can I trust she won’t get drunk again? There isn’t time to find a replacement nanny. Everything is ruined!”
The boys, distraught by their mother’s distress, each began to fuss as tears welled up in their eyes. They looked to their father for hope, as he moved to their mother’s side and tried to comfort her. They wiped their eyes with their snotty fingers, waiting for good news, and spoke to each other telepathically, the same terrible thought. “No more Auntie Joan?” Was their mother saying she intended to keep their Auntie Joan away from them? Just because she had some drinks? It didn’t seem right.
Their Grand Mama stood up, gave out a tremendous sigh, then said. “Por forvor, please, will you listen to me. Please.”
Everyone turned to pay attention to her. “Lissa, I am your mother. As your mother, I’m asking you to please calm down and hear me out. Will you do that for me?”
The triplets watched their mommy wipe her eyes, and sit back. Their father sat next to her, holding her hand for support. She nodded.
The triplets relaxed.
“Good. Here’s what I want you to understand. First, Joan’s relapse was my fault, no one else’s, so I’m taking responsibility for it. You don’t need to hire another nanny, because you have Joan for the job.”
“But, how can I trust her?” Asked mommy.
Grand Mama held up a quieting hand and continued. “Joan will be on the job, but she won’t be on it alone. I will be there with her, we will both have the job of being the full-time nanny while the two of you go on your honeymoon.”
“Mom, I can’t picture you doing that.”
“Nonsense, darling, didn’t I raise you two girls, often by myself? I think I can handle this. Besides, Mamacita and Aunt Sophia will be available as a back-up. We’ll be fine. And I’ll make sure Joan goes to her meetings every day, and I’ll keep her away from temptation.”
“Yes!” Marco said, as he punched his brother. “Hooray,” Ryland agreed.
“Shut up,” Hunter said, “They’re talking about Antonio.”
“So, you’ll keep her away from Antonio Ferraro?” their mother Lissa said.
“I didn’t say that,�
� Grand Mama said. “There’s no evidence that he was involved in her downfall.”
“There’s no evidence that he wasn’t,” Lissa countered.
Julio stepped in. “I agree, Lissa. As much as I want to come to the aid of my Godson, I agree that they should stay away from each other, at least until we return from our honeymoon. It’s only two weeks. If the two of them want to be together, they can surely wait until we get back.”
“Oh, I’m not going to be gone for two weeks. I’d already told you I thought that was too long, considering our work in Milan, but with this new development – two weeks isn’t going to happen. I’ll give you one week and that’s all.”
“But, Lissa.”
“Take it or leave it.” Their mother said. “In fact, you either agree to one week right now, or you can just forget about marrying me to begin with.”
Their mother got up from her chair, and the boys watched as their father tried to stop her from moving away, putting his hand on her arm. She jerked her arm away from him.
“I’m not kidding,” she said.
Their father Julio looked hurt and alarmed. The triplets each started sucking a thumb.
“Lissa, of course, I’ll agree to your terms, sweetheart. One week, no worries.”
“Good. Then, mother, if you promise to basically shadow Joan the whole time, help her with the children and make sure she stays out of trouble, but most of all you keep that scoundrel away from her until we get back – then I’ll consent.”
“Darling, I don’t think it’s my place to tell Joan who she can see or not see.”
“I don’t care if it’s your place or not – if you can’t make a promise to keep her away from him until we get back – then everyone can just forget about me going on this honeymoon because I won’t even need one!”
Their Grand Mama threw her arms up in mock frustration and said with exaggerated importance, “Fine, sweetheart, I’ll make sure she doesn’t see him while you’re gone – are you happy now?”
“Happy enough,” Lissa said, reluctantly. “But, I want to talk to Joan first, before we make anything official. When will she be back?”
“I thought under the circumstances that it would be better if she kept away for the rest of the day, she’s staying with me at the hotel. But, I can have her ready to go first thing tomorrow morning, say ten o’clock?”
“Ten o’clock? Oh, no mother. Joan is usually on the job by eight. If you seriously intend to help, you need to be here at eight as well.”
Their Grand Mama looked alarmed. “Honestly, darling, eight in the morning? It’s such an uncivilized hour.”
“Well, I don’t think the boys care about civilization. That’s Joan’s normal schedule, and I don’t I want to upset their routine to accommodate your need to sleep in, so, maybe we should just forget about this whole plan.”
“No, no, of course, darling, Joan and I will be at this house by eight tomorrow morning, ready to take charge of those adorable young men over there. You have nothing to worry about.”
Grand Mama had fixed the crisis.
Mama and Papa were still getting married and Joan would be coming back to them.
The triplets each smiled and gave each other slobbery high fives.
A short while later, their Grand Mama left to go back to Auntie Joan, and the other adults went about their day. The boys each yawned at the same time. They snuggled up close to each other on the pile of blankets. One by one, their eyelids drooped, they put a thumb back in their mouths, and before they could think of anything else to say to each other, all three of the billionaire triplets fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter Nine
WHEN JOAN WOKE UP AGAIN, her headache was only a dull memory and she felt like a new woman, until she saw her mother sitting in a stuffed chair across the room.
“Good morning, darling, I’m so glad to see you looking much better. How are you feeling?”
Joan stared at the mother, unsure what to say. Her head was clearer now, and she recalled how upset she’d been at seeing her mother on Lissa and Julio’s steps, making her grand entrance from the land of the dead.
She pursed her lips and stiffened her muscles, preparing something harsh and mean to say to her mother. But, nothing came out. She knew she should be angry with her mother, but seeing her sitting there, alive and well, made her heart swell with joy that was trying hard to push out the anger.
“Darling?”
She decided to play it cool. Joan placed her feet on the floor, stood and casually walked to the chair next to her bed, where one of the hotel’s plush cotton robes lay waiting for her. She slipped it on over her soft cotton sleep shirt and underwear, tied the sash around her waist, and fluffed her hair so it draped over the robe at her back. She tried to smooth down her wild bed-head hair, but she really needed to find a hair brush.
All that sex...
The memory of Antonio, and what they’d done together for hours, with such intensity was too much to cope with. It had all been a lie.
Her shoulders slumped and she sat heavily on the edge of the bed. She could feel her face crumble.
“Darling? What’s wrong?” said her mother.
Joan heard the sincere concern in her mother’s voice, and that only made her chest hurt more.
“Oh, nothing, mother, I’m just hungry.”
As much as the comment was a deflection to get her mind and her mother’s mind off her mistake with Antonio, there was truth to her words. From the moment, she said them, her stomach grumbled loudly. She was starved.
“I’ve already ordered room service for you darling, I asked the chef to make something mild for a tender tummy. Chef’s choice – I do hope you’re not going to be a picky eater.”
“As long as I can swallow it, I’ll take it.”
“Joanie, I wanted to apologize for upsetting you. The way we handled that first meeting last night, you know, for the documentary, I think – well, it was wrong of me, to spring it on you the way I did.”
She couldn’t remember ever hearing her mother apologize before. Her face was beautiful, confident and graceful as ever, yet there was clearly a look of remorse in her eyes, perhaps even sadness that she’d caused upset.
Some of the anger and resentment she’d held against her mother for almost a decade melted away.
“It’s okay mom,” Joan began, as she recalled her behavior, and that she might have over-reacted a bit. “I’m sorry I said what I said. I don’t hate you – it was just such a shock, and Lissa and I had just been talking about how you might pull a stunt like that...”
“You thought I wasn’t dead?”
“Well, I went back and forth to be honest. I freaked out when I first heard about it, and I got into some trouble, you know...”
“With your drinking, dear?”
“Among other things.”
“I’m sorry, you got the family disease. Did I ever tell you that my mother was an alcoholic – quite a spectacular one at that.”
“No, I don’t think you ever did. If it’s a family disease, then why didn’t you get it? Or Lissa for that matter.” Joan asked as she crossed her arms.
“I don’t know, darling, genes or something... perhaps you just got lucky.”
“Mom!”
“I didn’t mean it like that, dear. I guess, how shall I put this?”
Her mother rose and began to walk gracefully around the room, her eyes looking up as if searching for the right words. She stopped and turned towards Joan.
“What I mean is, I’ve known many great artists and other truly inspired human beings in my life and I’m not positive, but my gut says that the bulk of them suffered from the same affliction that you have. Having an addictive personality – it’s a curse, but it’s also a gift. Your brain works differently than other people. You feel more and you’re more sensitive to what the world springs on you, but, at the same time your ability to tune into those aspects of life which most of us mundane folks miss gives you the ability to do
great things – to change the world. Assuming, that is, you’re able to survive your condition.”
Joan stared at her mother. Had she just complimented her? No, not possible. She decided not to fall for her mother’s trick. Her tone was sarcastic when she finally spoke.
“Wow, mom, that’s pretty heavy. I take it you read that in some pop psychology book that made its way onto the life raft which landed you on a desert island for two years where you had no way to get in touch and tell us you were alive!”
“Joanie, please. Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. If you’re not interested in explaining yourself...”
“I’d tell you, but I signed a non-disclosure, darling, you have to understand. Unless you agree to become part of the documentary yourself, then you won’t be privy to the details and you’ll have to wait like everyone else.”
“Oh, yeah? Seriously mother – everyone else?” She spit out the words. “You think more than a handful of people in the world actually give a toasted rat about what happened to some random semi-rich black socialite who went missing for two years and got amnesia or whatever? The only people who care at all are your daughters. Are you honestly telling me that Lissa will be forced to keep me in the dark because I don’t want footage of me screaming I hate you all over the big screen?”
“Darling... it’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. It’s always complicated with you. Welcome back to your big audience mother – I don’t know where you were squirreled away, but obviously you weren’t having enough impact on the locals to satisfy your ego. But, now you can come here and get all the attention you want trying to ruin Lissa ‘s wedding and destroy my life again. Thanks a lot!”
When the slap came, Joan didn’t register what had happened. Her mother had never hit her before.
Joan gasped and placed her hand over the burn on her cheeks, staring at her mother defiantly.