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“Ah shit. Listen,” I started as I pinched the bridge of my nose, “I just can’t up and leave to another country for weeks at a time. I have a few critical meetings here that I can’t miss, and then I have to head to London on business.”
“Nonna’s been asking about you. She says that you haven’t called her in a while and that she’s going to die without ever speaking to her favorite grandson again.”
I chuckled. “Nonna invented Italian Catholic guilt, and you’re seemingly happy to be her messenger all of a sudden.”
“No, but I did inherit her talent for it. You might’ve gotten the Italian looks in this family, but I got our matriarch’s personality, so I’m here to reinforce that you should come and spend time with your grandmother, Sonny-boy.”
“I can agree that you certainly didn’t inherit the Italian looks, but that’s about it,” I said, chuckling again. “Listen, I really do want to see her and you. Not to mention Sloane and Becca; I’ve missed them a lot. But you already know what’s been keeping me back. It will take a lot more than Nonna missing me to get me to show up. I’m sorry, but it’s a fact.”
“Yeah, I know. I guess,” he said in defeat.
I hated letting my brother down, but he knew why I couldn’t be pressed to show up. The knowledge filled the silence between us the way the distance had for years that’d been rooted by the vengeful individual who took responsibility for our upbringing. All three of us children had tried to spend the last few years since we’d become adults making up for lost time. Still, the lingering presence of our mother hovering over everything we did had always prevented any real vulnerability. She weighed over us like a vicious phantom even though she was still alive and kicking.
I’d done my best over the last few years to become neutral toward my mother, but there was a part of me that still felt a seething, fiery ripple along my skin at the thought of seeing her again, and I was loath to admit that.
I couldn’t abide that any person should have that kind of control over me, much less the woman who happened to give me genetic material and then take much, much more, but there we were.
Stephen must’ve known where my mind was because he said, “So that you know, she disapproves of Nadia. That shouldn’t be a surprise to you, though.”
“Why is the woman even going to the wedding, then? Her malice, spite, and diabolical way of doing things will forever be lost on me.”
“The way I see it, it serves her purpose only. She’s obviously still trying to wield control over Sloane and Becca. And through them, she works to control the two of us.”
“How the hell does she manage to control them?” I questioned with annoyance and disdain for our mother.
“I’m not sure. I think it has something to do with Becca having UK citizenship rather than Italian, but Mum refuses to answer any of my questions about the matter. It’s a giant mess.”
“Sounds like her usual bullshit,” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Heidi—our mother—again, not at all. She’d always enjoyed Stephen’s company, though, given that looking at him was like looking in the mirror for her, but she’d barely been able to look at me without a grimace. Everything about being in her presence was negative, and I’d rather not be a part of the misery loves company bullshit.
“By the way,” Stephen said, his voice taking on a more amused tone to counter my silence, “I figured you should know; we saved you a spot for a plus one if you want to bring someone.”
“Plus one? Why the fuck would you do that?” I asked, my tone dry as the Malibu hills in the middle of August. “When was the last time I ever brought someone home?”
“I can answer that exactly. It was Hillary. The girl who went fully mad over you in university. Mother really bonded with that one.”
“Yeah, of course, mother loved her. She was just as insane as she is.”
“Speaking of which, Mum keeps asking whether you’re bringing her to the wedding. She says there’s been no one since who’s come close to her caliber and that she’d—and I quote—‘like to see you happy once more.’”
I burst out laughing. “Of course, our mother would believe the nutcase would make me happy. What a fucking insult. How unsurprising.”
“The way I see it, though, if you bring Hillary, she’ll entertain Mum so you can enjoy yourself around those you actually want to see. Hillary is nuts, but she’s cool enough.”
“I’m not using that woman to avoid our mother. If I show up by myself—”
“If you show up by yourself, you’re just asking for more hell than you need. You know very well that if you show up single, Mum will be on a mission.”
“I fucking know that,” I said, frustrated I was forced into this bizarre corner of insecurity and doubt, all brought on by a woman who damaged me far worse than I gave her credit for.
“It’s honestly not worth it,” Stephen pressed while I went into damage control mode.
I hated that my mother was the only person in the world to make me hesitate. Perhaps a shrink could’ve helped me deal with those issues, but I didn’t have time for that shit. Fuck, I didn’t have time for this shit.
“Well? What should I tell her and Nadia about whom you’re bringing? Because I can guarantee that if you come alone, she will make a spectacle out of you. It’s not worth it.”
“Trust me, I know.” I sighed, wondering how I would pull this off and hoping the woman I had in mind would go for it.
There was no way I would completely abandon the idea of showing up for my brother’s wedding. Fuck that. I wasn’t as horrible a person as my mother. But there was also no fucking way in the world I was showing up weak and vulnerable for her to attack. I was not going to give this woman anything.
