door, in an hour.
Amanda:N
Vincent:Please. I need to see you.
Amanda:Vincent, I have three finals starting tomorrow. I need to focus on those right
now, so I can graduate. I don’t want to see you right now. I’m mad and I’m hurt and
you’ll just distract me.
Vincent:Okay. I understand. But please know that I’m sorry and I love you and I want to
talk this out.
Amanda:Uh huh.
I tossed down my phone with a frustrated sigh. I couldn’t blame Amanda for not wanting to see me just now. She had a right to be mad for as long as she wanted. I planned to push that issue—I wasn’t going to let her keep me away forever—but I wasn’t going to fuck up her final exams, either. She had too much riding on the line just now.
Since the glass was cleaned up, that left only one situation I could handle now. Reaching onto a nearby shelf, I took out the envelope that contained the Romanos’ offer to me, and for about the twentieth time, I read it over.
It was an excellent, tempting plan, making me an integral part of expanding their restaurant and food services branch. I’d have autonomy and input, and I’d also have a generous benefits package and salary. There was not a thing wrong with what they wanted to give me in exchange for becoming part of their team. The Romanos weren’t a big corporation or an impersonal business. They were a family.
They just weren’t mine.
The ride to my parents’ house felt longer than it ever had, and dread grew heavier in my stomach with each passing minute. I was relieved to see that all the cars there earlier were gone; I had no desire to eat crow in front of everyone at once. I’d make apologies to the others individually.
I circled the house to go in the backdoor, as I always did. My parents were sitting on the back porch on the double glider, moving back and forth gently, holding hands. When they spotted me, they didn’t stop the motion, but I was aware of their eyes on me as I climbed the steps and leaned against the railing.
Taking a deep breath, I began. “Ma, Pop ... I wanted to apologize for what I said this afternoon. For the way I acted. I was out of line, and I’m sorry. I hope you can both forgive me.” I ventured a glance at my father’s face, and when I saw the smile there, something deep inside me broke. My throat swelled closed, and I had to bite back tears of relief.
“What’s to forgive?” He lifted his shoulder. “We’re family. We’re Italian. We yell. We say things we don’t mean, but that doesn’t change the fact that we love each other.”
I wanted to get down on my knees, lay my head in my mother’s lap and cry like I had when I was little boy. I could still feel the soft stroke of her hand against my hair. But I stayed where I was, waiting. Listening.
“The only thing I want to make sure of, son, is that you remember the most important things.” Ma cleared her throat, and I saw a tear leak from one side of her eye. “We love you. We loveallof you, no matter. You all have your moments, and you all have your faults. So do we. We get over it. But we never stop loving. We work it out.” She raised her eyes to mine. “You’re precious to us, Vincent. Not because of what you can cook or what you bring to the business, but because you are who you are, our son. We love you. We’re proud of you, all the time.”
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear those words until my mother spoke them. I nodded, shocked to feel tears running down my own cheeks.
“There’s no shame in emotion, Vince.” Pop’s voice was gentle. “We’re passionate people. That means we yell a lot, we get mad, we say things, but we also love with that same ... fierceness. It’s something to be proud of.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my jaw. “I just hope I can convince Amanda of that. After we got back to my house, she yelled at me, too, and then she left. She doesn’t want to talk to me. Not yet.”
“She’ll get over it.” Ma smiled. “That girl is gone over you, Vince. She loves you. I knew you two would end up together from the first time I saw you at Ava’s engagement party. You’re meant to be.”
My mouth dropped open. “You did?”
My mother gave me her classic shrug. “Of course, I did. I’m your mother. I see things. I know things. Trust me. It’s going to work out.”
“I hope so.” I thrust my hands into my pockets. “And what about us? Are we going to work out?”
Pop braced his feet against the porch. “Well, we need to talk about the business, son. We don’t want to lose you at the restaurant, but if you decide it would work out better for you to live in the city and accept that offer, we’ll figure it out. But know this: just because you leave the restaurant doesn’t mean you leave the family. You’re still one of us. One of ours. Got it?”
I nodded. “I’d like to talk to you about that. I might have an idea that would work for all of us.” I paused and then added, “Assuming Amanda agrees. If she’ll speak to me again.”
Ma laughed. “I told you. Trust me.”
For four days, I pretended that Vincent DiMartino didn’t exist.
