The dinner of home-cooked Tuscan specialties prepared by their grandparents—apparently their grandfather liked to cook—was hearty and tasty, similar yet dissimilar to the Italian food she’d eaten in the States.
And, she thought, much better.
Kaem and Bana’s first cousins—Raffaele and Sonia, through their mother Sophia’s brother—were ecstatic to be able to meet the great Emmanuel Seba they’d heard so much about. There was no language barrier because all of the Amato family spoke English well; it was needed for their business interests.
Raffaele, apparently an enthusiastic amateur footballer, grinned at Emmanuel, “I’m always telling people I’m your nephew.” He lifted his nose haughtily, “Never admitting I’m not a blood relation.”
His sister, Sonia, snorted, “As if no one suspects from your pale skin and the poor quality of your play.” Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Staring at Emmanuel, she mumbled, “Sorry!”
Emmanuel gave her a gentle smile, “It’s okay, Sonia, believe it or not, I’ve known I was black my whole life.” His eyes twinkled, “I am still waiting for the day I’ll be consistently judged on the content of my character rather than the color of my skin, but I’m hard to offend. We’re all different and should accept and honor those differences without letting them divide us.”
“Agreed!” she said, eyes twinkling.
“So,” Raffa asked Emmanuel, “what kind of work do you do now? Something to do with sports?”
This time Emmanuel’s smile held some sadness. “No, you may not be aware, but football, ‘soccer,’ as they call it in the States, isn’t as properly popular there as it should be. Besides, I’m reluctant to trade on my fame in the world of football.” He glanced at Kaem, then back to Raffa, “I’ve recently taken a job at the same company Kaem works for, using my training in chemistry rather than any athletic skill.”
“Ah,” Sonia said curiously, “Raffa and I work at our parents’ company. That’s very accepted here, but I thought American companies frowned on people from the same family working at the same business. They’re afraid family members will help each other or something?”
“They do frown on it,” Emmanuel said with a chuckle. “But our company was very new and hadn’t yet written those kinds of rules when Kaem managed to sneak me in.” He leaned forward as if imparting a secret, “I’m probably the impetus for the rule they’ve put on the books since then.”
“Is yours a family business then?” Bana asked, “Founded by grandfather Amato, carried on by the son and grandson or granddaughter?”
“Oh no!” Sonia exclaimed as if shocked. “Grandfather Amato’s a professor of mathematics at the University! He wouldn’t sully his hands with business!” She grinned, “It was our grandfather Moretti who was the businessman. He didn’t exactly found the business, he just helped our mother and father get it going.”
Bana glanced at Kaem, “Maybe you inherited your mad math skills from your granddad.”
Kaem shrugged but Raffa crowed and turned to look at the head of the table, “Nonno (Italian for grandfather)! Someone inherited your gene for math!” He turned back to Kaem, “He’ll be so excited!”
Kaem held his hands up, “Wait! I’m just good at arithmetic, not some kind of math genius.”
“Nonno would be happy,” Raffa said in a stage whisper, “if there was anyone in the family who could add without a calculator.”
Kaem laughed, “Well I am his dream come true then.”
Smiling, Grandfather Amato said, “Wait. This supposed gift must be tested before I can proclaim my joy. What’s two plus two?”
Kaem frowned as if with concentration, “Four?” he asked tentatively.
Amato threw his hands up in the air as if proclaiming victory. “Yes! At long last, another mathematician in the family!”
As their elders returned to their own conversations, Bana asked, “What kind of business are you in? Maybe I could be a summer intern.”
“Manufacturing,” Sonia said. “We’re heavily into robotics, using them to turn out small appliances at present. The plan is to work our way up to building robots themselves. Home cleaning robots and self-driving taxis.” She frowned, “What’s an ‘intern’?”
Bana explained and, to Bana’s excitement, Sonia declared Bana’s internship that summer a grand idea, though in a low tone. She leaned forward, “Don’t say anything yet. I’ll need to talk to my mother about it. She’ll talk father around. Then we can make serious plans. You could live with me for the summer!”
Raffa leaned toward Kaem and said, “And there it is. My sister’s off and running with another of her crazy ideas.” He shook his head. “A surprising number of them turn out well though. Maybe this’ll be another.” He looked at Kaem. “What’s this business you work for? Maybe we could forge some kind of Italian-American collaboration.”
Bana could tell Kaem was uncomfortable talking about it. He said, “It’s called ‘Staze.’ Its main product is a new material that’s stronger than steel.”
The understatement of the year, Bana thought. Why isn’t he telling them about its effect on time?! She opened her mouth to explain them herself, but at the last moment caught a little head shake from her brother.
“Stronger by weight, or by volume?” Raffa asked.
“What?” Bana asked, thinking it an odd question.
“Either one,” Kaem replied, then turned to Bana. “Some materials like aluminum are light, so they can be as strong as steel by weight, but would be much larger in volume than the same strength steel structure. Others are very dense or heavy, so they might be as strong as steel at the same volume, but would weigh more.”
“Ah,” she said. She opened her mouth to tell Raffa that Stade was far, far stronger than steel and could weigh nothing but once again Kaem seemed to know what she was thinking and shook his head to halt her.
“Enough about business,” Sonia said, interrupting further discussion of Stade. “We should go out to a club.”
Raffa rolled his eyes, “Sonia always wants to—”
Bana interrupted him, “So does Bana. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
Nudging Raffa, Kaem said, “We should resign ourselves to our fate, cousin.”
Shortly they were rising, thanking the Amatos and apologizing for leaving early. Bana thought the older generation looked somewhat relieved to see them go, but heard her grandfather quietly ask Kaem the square root of 12,000.
Just as softly, Kaem said, “109.545.”
Grandfather clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You’re my grandson all right.” As he turned away, Bana saw him surreptitiously wipe a tear.
Raffa led them down the hall and, reaching the door first, winkled an old soccer ball out from behind an umbrella stand and sent it skittering down the hall toward the other three. “Look out, cousins!”
Bana was astonished that he’d do something so rambunctious in their grandparents’ house, but even more astonished when Kaem caught the ball beneath a toe as if he dealt with speeding soccer balls all the time. Having stopped it perfectly, he nudged it back down the hall to Raffa at a more sedate pace.
Raffa laughed, “You’re good! What kind of team do you play for?”
Bana had been surprised when Kaem, having had no experience, had caught the ball with his foot. She was more surprised by the elegant way in which he’d done it. But her eyes widened when Raffa, someone who played a lot, even if not professionally, caught the slower ball, but not with the spare economy of precision movement Kaem had used. She might not know soccer, but she definitely recognized athletic grace. Could Kaem have been playing soccer since his treatments? she wondered. Or could that have been a lucky catch?
Kaem chuckled softly and answered Raffaele, “I’ve been sickly most of my life, so I’ve never played sports of any kind. “I’ve certainly never played soccer.”
Raffa frowned, “Sickly? With what?”
“A congenital anemia. Recently cured with gene therapy. I f
eel great now, so maybe I should take up some kind of sport.”
They’d all stopped, about seven feet apart, “Come on,” Raffa said, lofting the ball softly with his foot so it arrived at Kaem at about mid-shin height. “You have skills!”
Raffa goggled when Kaem caught the ball gently on his forefoot and softly lowered it to the floor before toeing it back past Raffa in a gentle roll. “Let’s take the ladies out on the town,” he said, as if he had no idea the others would find his catching the ball on the top of his foot at all surprising.
Bana watched the ball bump off a cabinet and stop behind the umbrella stand from whence it had come. Did he do that purposefully? she wondered. Could all those apparent feats have just been lucky accidents? As they went out the door to the autotaxi Raffa’d called, she saw Raffa staring unbelievingly at where the ball had stopped. He doesn’t think so, she thought.
~~~
At the club, Sonia spoke a few words in someone’s ear to get them in, making Bana think that the family or its business was more influential than they let on. Or, she goes clubbing often and tips well. Inside, Bana set her earbuds to noise suppression against music so loud she could feel the thump of the bass in her chest. Grabbing Raffa’s arm, she shouted to be heard. “Take me out and show me how to dance Italian style.”
She didn’t think he understood her words over the music, but he got her intent. As he led her out onto a floor packed with writhing bodies, his gait matched the beat. Once on the floor, he turned to her with his arms up, a twitch in his hip matching the drive of the music. Why does the cute guy with rhythm have to be my cousin? she wondered, glancing around at the other women and trying to match the way they shimmied.
I love this place! she thought a couple of minutes later, wildly abandoning herself to the throb of the beat. She looked around for her brother, expecting to find him standing uncomfortably by one of the columns. Not seeing him, she widened her search, then realized with startlement that Kaem and Sonia were dancing near herself and Raffa. Even more disconcerting was the way her formerly lame brother was moving to the music, his hip twitching like Raffa’s, yet somehow… more elegantly. Graceful, but not effeminate. Instead, his movements had a kind of potency to them. Her eyes widened as she realized that many of the women on the floor were glancing surreptitiously at her brother. He had slender hips, tapering up to wide shoulders, every part of him moving in a sublimely coordinated fashion.
He’s… sexy! she realized with horror.
After dancing for a while, they went to the bar and got drinks. Having found a table, they all sat and had a few sips, then Bana and Sonia visited the women’s room.
When they got back to the table there were a pair of young women talking to Raffa and Kaem. They’d already ascertained that Bana and Sonia were the men’s cousins, not their dates. They were enthusiastically inviting Raffa and especially Kaem out to the dancefloor.
The men acceded and Bana, who loved to dance, thought she’d have to dance with Sonia, but moments later a couple of handsome Italian men were inviting them out to the floor. She agreed, gulped her drink, and headed out, thinking, I could get to like it here in Italy!
Chapter Four
The next morning a call from Sonia woke Bana to a throbbing head. It was as if she could still feel the thump of the bass in her head. When she answered her phone, Sonia said, “Are you going with the boys?”
“What?” Bana asked, irritated that Sonia sounded cheerful, as if unaffected by their drinking the night before.
“Raffa’s taking Kaem to his amateur league football game… ‘to watch,’ though he’s so sure his cousin’s some kind of superstar player I’ll bet he’s going to try to get Kaem to play.” She lowered her voice as if speaking confidentially, “That wasn’t true last night, was it? About Kaem never having played? I mean, we all saw the way he handled the ball.”
“He really has been too sick to play until he had his gene therapy last summer,” Bana said, rolling her eyes, even if it was just to herself. “If he took it up then, he’s never mentioned it to me. Honestly, I think he just got lucky catching that ball in the hallway.”
“But…” Sonia said, sounding both frustrated and disappointed. “There’s also the way he dances. He’s smooth, like a-a bullfighter or something. He’s the most… what do you say, coordinated?” After Bana agreed, she continued, “Most coordinated person I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, I saw,” Bana said with a sigh. “He did look… athletic. But, honestly, he’s never been fit enough for anyone to know if he’s well-coordinated or not. And just because he dances well, that doesn’t mean he can play soccer… sorry, I mean, football.”
“Well, I want to watch. Will you come with me? I don’t want to be the only one on the sidelines.”
“Kaem’ll be there,” Bana said grimly, then realized she liked hanging out with her cousin and might not get many more chances. She sighed, “Let me take a couple Tylenols and grab a shower. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes?”
~~~
When they arrived at the field Kaem and Raffa had just arrived and were the only ones there. “Isn’t there a game?!” Sonia said as if to herself, sounding irritated. When they got closer to the two men, she started yelling at Raffa in Italian.
After Raffa replied in the same language she rolled her eyes and turned to Bana. “Raffa brought him down here early to ‘kick the ball around.’ The game doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. You want to go get a coffee and a pastry?”
Eyes on Kaem who was kicking the ball around with his feet and once again looking as if he’d done it before, Bana said, “Sure, but let’s watch them a few minutes first. I don’t know anything about the game so you can explain the finer points.”
“I’m not enough of a fan to explain ‘finer points,’” she said. But, after a few seconds pause, she said, “The major points are that one team’s trying to kick the ball…”
Bana lost track of what Sonia was saying as she watched Raffa and Kaem kick the ball back and forth between themselves, first from where each of them was standing; then as they trotted down the field; then as they moved farther apart. Kaem dashed ahead a few steps to capture a kick from Raffa, but caught the ball perfectly with a foot, tapping it along ahead of him a couple of times then sending it back to Raffa. It took several of these episodes for Bana to recognize that Raffa never had to quickstep after the ball because Kaem kicked it precisely to where Raffa would be. Still, though Raffa always gained control of the ball when it arrived, it didn’t look effortless like it did when Kaem received it. And his continued control of the ball as they moved it downfield didn’t look as natural as Kaem’s. Either Kaem’s been playing enough to get good, or Raffa plays for some kind of low amateur league, she thought as she mentally compared the quality of play of the two men.
Sonia had stopped talking about the overall thrust of the game to stare. She said, “I may not know the finer points, but your brother’s good! You can’t tell me he’s played enough to acquire skills like that without your knowing about it!”
“Well,” Bana said weakly, “I am in school up at WVU and he’s down in Charlottesville. I suppose…” she trailed off thinking about how Kaem was carrying a full load of classes in the mornings, then working at Staze from late morning through until dinnertime, then he must need some time to study… When the hell would he find time to play soccer? she wondered.
Sonia, said, “You must live far apart, because I’ll guarantee he’s putting in a lot of hours on the football pitch.” She watched for another moment, then murmured as if to herself, “I would’ve thought no one could get that good in one year. Not if they spent all day, every day at it.”
Kaem and Raffa had stopped down near the goal. Raffa stood hipshot, ball held carelessly against his hip with his left hand, while his right hand pointed to the goal. He dropped the ball, quickly controlled it with his feet while running a few steps, then booted it at the goal, missing outside the right goalpost by inches.
He trotted after the ball and kicked it back to Kaem, then jogged over to stand in front of the goal, hands out. He shouted a few things Bana couldn’t understand.
Bana did hear Sonia though, when she nudged Bana and said admiringly, “Your brother’s got the body of a Greek god.”
Bana turned to stare at Sonia for a moment thinking, He’s your cousin, girl! Then she looked out at her brother. She realized she’d been trying to avoid noticing how very fine Kaem’s muscular legs looked.
Kaem kicked the ball. Though he hadn’t seemed to put a lot of effort into it, the ball took off for the goal like a rocket. Though Bana thought surely it was going to miss like Raffa’s had, it barely snuck in at the upper right corner. Got lucky, brother, Bana thought, amused at the way Raffa had lunged after it even though there was no way he could’ve reached it.
Raffa kicked the ball back out to Kaem, who waited for Raffa to take up a stance in the middle of the goal then kicked it again. This time it bounded off the left upright on its way into the goal, once again far beyond Raffa’s outstretched hands.
At that point, Bana still believed Kaem had kicked wildly and been lucky the goal was so wide. After his fourth shot had barely slipped inside the goalpost, she realized the balls were going exactly where Kaem intended, into the corners where Raffa couldn’t reach them. She frowned, Can it be as easy as he’s making it look? she wondered. She looked over at Sonia, who looked stunned, I guess not, Bana decided.
Someone behind them shouted Raffa’s name. Raffa waved but continued talking fervently to Kaem.
As Sonia and Bana got closer, Bana realized Raffa—thinking that Kaem was some kind of soccer superstar back home and was trying to hide it for some bizarre reason—was trying to talk him into playing in the game with his team, Palma.
“I may be getting lucky,” Kaem said, “just kicking the ball around with you, but I don’t even know the rules of the game. I’m so clueless, I’d probably send the ball into the wrong goal. I don’t know how to try to steal the ball. I couldn’t keep anyone from taking it from me.” He threw his hands up, “I’d be hopeless out there! Give it up.”
A Tower in Space-Time (The Stasis Stories #5) Page 8