by Eva Moore
“Mamá, are you sure about this?” Adrian asked for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. Instead of his usual lazy Saturday morning routine, he was up early without nearly enough caffeine. His brain couldn’t quite believe that his mother was actually ready to go through with this plan to visit her daughter and the baby.
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” She brushed her hair with shaky hands, smoothing the already shiny and tangle-free locks over and over.
“No. Not at all. I just want to make sure you are ready.”
“I am. I want to see the baby and help Mahalia. I spoke with Dr. Williams, and he gave me that prescription you picked up yesterday for when I start to panic. Besides, Sofia said it would be better for us to be out of the house while she works.” She smoothed a scarf over her head that hadn’t seen the sun in ten years, and tied it firmly beneath her chin.
“I still don’t understand that whole business. If you wanted something fixed, why didn’t you ask me?”
“Because nothing is broken, mijo. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be better. I like the picture Sofia put in my head. Do you trust her?”
A month ago that would have been an easy answer. He’d opened up his home and his heart to her because he’d trusted her, which made her betrayal even harder to bear. He’d trusted too quickly and gotten burned. But his mother didn’t need to hear that right now. As far as she knew, things had just cooled down between him and Sofia because the show had ramped up.
He hadn’t had the heart to tell his mother that the girl she’d welcomed at her table wasn’t as wonderful as she appeared. He didn’t know what that would do to her fears of letting people in, so he held his peace when Graciela sang Sofia’s praises. He didn’t have enough of his heart left intact to handle breaking hers, too. At least Sofia had been gracious enough to keep her promise when Graciela had finally gathered her courage.
“With the living room, maybe. But she takes everything too far. I don’t want you to be disappointed. She is probably just doing this as publicity for the show.”
“That is unkind, and no she’s not. She told me specifically there wouldn’t be any cameras.”
“I want you to be happy, Mamá. If this makes you happy, I’ll let her try.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely. She’s a sensible girl. She had good ideas when she interviewed me for the plans.”
“Yeah, it all seems sensible until she wants to start knocking down walls and reversing floor plans.” Who was she roping in to help with this? He’d checked with all of his guys, and no one knew anything about it. He’d have felt better about leaving if it was his crew working on it. They’d keep her in line. But she was probably going to make Seth or Frankie do most of the labor. Damn it, then he’d owe them big time.
“You are not helping.” She set down the brush carefully and checked her purse for the twentieth time. “Medicine, phone, wallet, ID, keys, lipstick… You have my bag, yes?”
Adrian lifted his hands in surrender. “I already put it in the truck. It has clothes for three days, and all of the baby things you told me to pack.” He dropped his hands to her shoulders. Her nerves were making them vibrate beneath his light touch. “Are you ready to go?”
Graciela closed her eyes and drew in an unsteady breath. “You are sure no one will see me?”
“Yes. You can sit in the back of the cab, and the windows are tinted.”
“And you promise, you will not stop, no matter what I say, until we get to Mahalia’s house?” She picked up her large, brand-new sunglasses from the counter and put them on, covering any lingering insecurities.
“I promise, and I filled up the gas tank yesterday.”
“Okay.” She inhaled deeply one more time before stepping toward the door. “Let’s go.”
In the end, it took about five tries for her to actually make it out the door. Adrian half carried her down the steps because her anxiety buckled her knees. He handed her up into the extended cab of his truck and tucked her purse in next to her. “All good?” he asked one last time. When his mother mustered a tight nod, he smiled. “There’s water and snacks in the cooler at your feet. I’m so proud of you, Mamá.” He kissed her hand and climbed into the front seat. Pulling slowly out of the driveway, he watched his mother crouch down in the back seat like a criminal avoiding the news crews after an arrest.
It broke his heart that she felt so afraid. Had he failed her? Had he enabled this to the point that she was terrified of life? Had he missed the signs that she’d needed more from him? Guilt chased hard on his heels as he sped up the highway toward Oakland. Even once they hit the open road, she didn’t relax her grip on her purse or her active scanning of the surrounding traffic. He tried to break into her fixation with a task. If he could keep her focused here in the car, maybe she wouldn’t be so tense about the world flying past outside the windows.
“Mamá, why don’t you send Sofia a text and let her know that we are out of the house. I left her a key upstairs under my mat.”
“Okay, mijo. I can do that.” She pulled her phone from her purse and gripped it like a lifeline, her hands shaking like she was much older than her fifty-two years.
This excursion better be worth all of this stress. He couldn’t believe he was actually letting Sofia loose in his house, but his mother wanted this, and he would give anything in this world to make his mother happy. He knew Sofia would make big changes in the space. That’s what scared him. He just hoped she wouldn’t go overboard, like she had on every other design, and end up ruining his mother’s safe haven.
He was also grateful for this trip out of town, because it got him away from the projects for a while. He’d been working like a dog, keeping multiple crews busy on different projects, all while dancing to Jake Ryland’s tune.
He couldn’t deny that the resentment had been growing inside him, stealing the joy he normally felt over a job well done. Knowing that he had zero chance of changing Dom’s mind as long as Frankie and Sofia were opposed was eating away at his motivation. He was going to have to leave. He hated the idea of leaving the only job he’d ever known, but if he couldn’t advance there was no way he could stay. He needed to leave before things turned bitter. Part of his plan while he was up here in Oakland for the weekend was to scout out new potential contractors who might need some help. Maybe they could relocate closer to Mahalia so it wouldn’t be quite so stressful for his mom to help with the new baby.
He also couldn’t keep seeing Sofia every day and not have her. It was killing him slowly. No matter how many times his head reminded him that he was angry, that she’d done him wrong, that she was standing between him and his dreams, his heart still sped a little faster when she walked into the room. His blood ran a little hotter when she leaned over her desk. His soul reached out for hers when she smiled, until she saw him and her smiles faded. He’d really screwed up that whole relationship, and he’d be damned if he hung around to watch her move on.
“She says she found the key and is already hard at work.”
His mother’s voice broke through his turbulent thoughts, scattering them beneath his speeding tires until one remained. Why hadn’t they worked harder to stay together?
“Hey, you got started without me!” Frankie stood in the open doorway with two welcome white-and-green coffee cups.
“I don’t have much time.” Sofia climbed down from the stepstool where she had been removing the heavy damask drapes, letting in some much needed light. Leaving the curtain hanging from half of its pins, she gratefully clasped the hot coffee in both hands. “But now that you’re here, can you help me carry these couches out to the curb? And then we need to clear as many of the bookcases as we can.” After a few quick sips, Sofia set the paper cup aside and rubbed her hands together. “Okay, grab the other side of this sofa. On three…”
They worked in quiet tandem, their rhythm smooth and silent from years of repetition. They’d all grown up helping on Dad and Uncle Tony’s work sites. The room quickly
emptied and they laid out thick drop cloths to protect the hardwood floors, the only thing worth protecting in the room. Sofia opened a can of pale, creamy paint and passed Frankie a roller.
“Remember when Gabe decided to paint his bedroom Day-Glo yellow?” Frankie chuckled at the memory.
“It was sunshine yellow, and he said it would help him get up for school in the morning.” Sofia laughed along at the memory of her cranky, sleep-deprived brother. For the first time in too long she thought of her older brother with affection instead of guilt. “It didn’t last a month before he repainted it navy blue.”
“He was always jumping into crazy plans like that.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Of course, I do. Don’t you?”
“I do miss him, like I’d miss my right hand, but then I get really angry that he left us, just like that.” Sofia snapped her fingers. “He screwed up everyone else’s plans without a second thought and dumped all this stress in my lap. But that’s a shitty thought to have, and then I feel guilty. I hate that I feel trapped. I hate that I’ve had to do his share of the work for so long, and I hate that he’s gone.”
Frankie met this flood of words with silence, as if unsure of where to start mopping up.
Sofia focused on the repetitive strokes of her roller as the walls gradually brightened. “Does that make me horrible?”
“No, it makes you human. Does it make me horrible that I’m happy to get a chance to run the crews how I want, without my big brother looking over my shoulder, telling me what to do?”
“No.”
“Because every time I think about it, I feel like I’m stealing his spot. Your job got harder, but chasing my dream got a lot easier. And I feel guilty for it every day.”
Sofia let that sink in. She had been so caught up in her own messy emotions, she hadn’t considered how her siblings were dealing with Gabe’s death. Did Enzo have this messed-up crap rolling around behind his stoic façade? Sofia switched to a small angled brush and began cutting in the paint along the trim line.
“That’s part of why I didn’t want Adrian to buy in,” Frankie continued. “Dad treats him like another son. How long would it be before he starts trying to boss me around? I know I’m young, but I’m not an idiot.”
“Honestly, I don’t think it would be like that.”
“Wait, I thought we were mad at Adrian.”
“Oh, I’m pissed as hell at him right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that we can’t afford to lose him. I was never completely against him buying in. I just needed details no one could give me. I think it could be a good idea if we do it right.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sis.”
“Damn it, Frankie. Don’t be like that. I know exactly how many jobs we’ve got lined up right now, both on and off the show. If Adrian walks, so does his crew. Do you really think you can run all the crews, plus hire a new slate, if both Dad and Adrian are gone?”
Frankie paused, paint dripping off the roller. “But Dad’s not going anywhere soon. It would be fine. By the time he actually retires, I’ll have things under control.” Vigorous strokes up and down the wall mocked the calm words. A fine spatter of paint flew from the speeding roller, coating them both in buttery freckles.
“Given the full-court press from Mom, I’d bet on sooner rather than later. Even Dad never handled everything alone. He had Uncle Tony. When Seth didn’t step up into Uncle Tony’s spot, you did. Who’s going to fill Dad’s? All I’m saying is don’t be stupid. Plan how to make this work to your advantage instead.”
“Don’t call me stupid!” Frankie spun angrily, roller in hand still spinning, catching a surprised Sofia with splatters of yellow paint to the face. Frankie’s jaw dropped along with the roller.
“Damn it, Frankie! Don’t you dare laugh!” Trying to suppress the chuckles only turned them to belly laughs faster, and when Sofia gave chase with her cutting brush, all effort at restraint was lost. The ensuing paint war left them both streaky and weak from laughter. Sofia swiped at the tears running down her face and her hand came away yellow. “Truce! Or we’ll never finish.”
Frankie picked up the roller and started the second coat. “If you and Adrian are on the outs, why am I giving up my Saturday to redo his living room?”
“Because it’s his mother’s living room, not his, and I made a promise. Besides, with just a few cosmetic changes, this space could be so much better for her. Just because her son is being an ass doesn’t mean she should have to keep living in the dark.”
And despite the fact that she was gutted by his betrayal, she still had these feelings. She’d thought they would fade in the full light of day or burn away in the flash furnace of her anger, but they remained, steady and warm in her heart. She couldn’t accept that the man who’d loved her so tenderly had done so with an agenda, and she was going to have to figure out what to do about that. Clearly, ignoring the situation wasn’t working.
“Saint Sofia to the rescue.” Frankie’s use of her childhood nickname pulled her from her worries.
“You know I hate that nickname.”
“Saint Sofia! Saint Sofia!” Frankie said in a singsong voice.
“Jesus, what are you, five?”
“You always were the Goody Two-Shoes in the family. Not much has changed as far as I can tell.”
“Yeah, and look where it got me.”
“Poor Sofia, using both of your degrees for the family business, exactly like you’d always planned. Martyr, much? What ever would we do without you?”
“You’d better figure it out,” Sofia muttered.
“What was that?”
“I said you’d figure it out. Now shut up and finish painting.”
They wrapped up the second coat before lunch and split to work on separate projects. After carefully washing up, Sofia reupholstered the wingback chair. She added a thicker cushion and updated the fabric. She also slipcovered a long sofa she found rummaging through the Valenti family storage units that would fit the space better than all the smaller couches crammed together.
Frankie built in a bench seat that stretched the front width of the room and extended into a window seat. There was space for books or storage bins underneath. Once it was stained, they moved on to the window treatments together. As night fell, they wanted to make sure everything was covered and safe. The new honeycomb blinds were translucent and could be raised from the bottom or lowered from the top, allowing more light to filter through while preserving Graciela’s privacy. After tightening the last screw, Sofia collapsed into an exhausted heap against the opposite wall and surveyed the results of their hard work. It would be beautiful, once she got everything in its proper place.
Frankie came in from the back of the house where the saw was set up, hands full with two beers instead of planks of wood. “Here, sis. We earned these today.”
Sofia looked at the outstretched beer. “Nah, I’m okay.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m turning a new leaf. I need to lose this weight.”
“Jesus, just drink it, Fi. I don’t know why you do that.”
“Do what?”
Frankie thrust the beer at her again, refusing to take no for an answer. “Get bent about your weight. We’ve all had a rough go since Gabe died. So you put on a few pounds. Who cares? You still look like my sister, and you sure as hell still act like her. If the food helped you get through it, I repeat, who cares?”
Who did care? Frankie clearly didn’t. Adrian hadn’t seemed to mind it either, back when they’d been on touching terms. Hell, even her mother still insisted she fill her plate at dinner. The only person who hated how much she weighed was her. Maybe Frankie was right. She had needed something to help her cope with all of the feelings Gabe’s death had unleashed. Maybe she could stop hating herself for being human. Wasn’t she entitled to the same grace she’d given Frankie earlier? She thought back to her night at the beach. Respect and love were her paramount needs.
She hadn’t considered her weight as a goal even once. She’d lose the weight eventually, or she wouldn’t, and would still be the same person people loved now.
Her revelation took a thirty-pound weight off her shoulders. She could lift that challenge in her own time, but no more shame. She deserved better treatment from herself, especially if she was going to start demanding it from others as well. Maybe Frankie wasn’t so dumb after all. She twisted off the top and raised it in a toast.
“To not-stupid siblings. You’re right. Who cares?” She drank deep and enjoyed the crisp, cool bubbles dancing down her throat. “Thanks again for your help today.”
“Do you need me to come back tomorrow?”
“No, the hard part is done. Just help me get the couch inside, and I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? I can help move furniture.”
“No, really. It’s okay.”
“Remember, you don’t have to do it all on your own. Love you, sis.”
“Love you, too. Now go on and pack up. I’m sure you’ve got a hot date tonight.”
“Jealous much?”
Sofia looked around Adrian’s home and realized that yes, she was jealous. Even though he’d been an ass, she missed him. Missed them. Missed being part of an us, even if she’d been the only one who thought they were together. She wished she knew how to fix things between them, but how could she take him back when he had so little respect for her? It was a lose-lose situation.
“Ha, you wish. Get out of here!”
Chapter 26