She places one hand on her hip. “You want to be the cool uncle, don’t you?”
I buy the fucking scooter, as well as every protective pad, helmet, and shock absorber there is. If the kid manages to break a bone in all that,well, he had it coming. We cover everything in big red bows, and Nomi slaps on tags loudly proclaiming ToNico,FromUncleJulianon the sidewalk in front of Marco and Jessica’s house.
“We’ve got to lock this honor in for you,” she explains, then stretches to standing, pleased.
“Hmm. Something’s missing.” I take the Sharpie and add:&Nomi. We stare at our names together for a long second. Nomi clears her throat, then smiles.
“Come on.” She gestures toward the backyard. “It’s party-time, Uncle Julian.”
I shudder involuntarily. “Don’tevercall me that again.”
She laughs as if we’re not entering a minefield full of dangers. But walking in with Nomi feels like safe passage within an armored car. Everyone’s so happy to seeherthey barely notice me, which is a bliss I didn’t know existed. I grab two beers before anyone manages to insult me, and judging by my stack of presents,Coolest Uncleis in the bag.
“Edna!” Nomi leans over my great aunt’s wheelchair to give her a long, sweet hug. “How are you feeling?”
“Absolutely terrible when I’m not stoned!” Aunt Edna laughs, though it sounds considerably weaker than the throaty, buoyant laugh I grew up hearing.
Nomi winks at her. “We can disappear behind the garage any second, just say the word.”
“If my ornery nephew doesn’t kiss me right now, I’ll need my own blunt.” Aunt Edna flaps her hand at me, and I lean over and brush my lips against her smooth cheek. She smells like blush and Elizabeth Taylor’s White Diamonds. “Julie,” she says as she draws me close. “How’s that butthole, kid?”
A flare of irritation sweeps through me, but everything I’ve learned these last few weeks does, too, and before I snap, I take a deep breath in and remember: I don’t always need to swing.
“It’s… okay,” I admit. “As far as buttholes go.”
“That’swhat I like to hear! But where are your Uncle Joseph’s nut-huggers? These aren’t short enough. How will Nomi know what she’s missing if you don’t put ’em on display?”
“Youtold him to wear those short shorts?” Nomi intercedes, delighted. “When he apologized?”
God.
“Of course! Julie’s smart, but not that smart.” Aunt Edna winks. “And they worked, didn’t they, honey?”
Nomi shrugs, smiling impishly. “A muscular thigh never hurt nothing.”
“This one gets it. Julie, you should propose,” Aunt Edna announces. “She’s the one!”
I clap my hands together. “O-kay, Aunt Edna, can I get you anything? A filter, perhaps?”
“Such a tight butthole, this guy. You’ve gotta loosen him up, Nomi. Make him remember not to take life so seriously.”
“I’m trying.” This time, her smile’s for me.
“I invited someone very special today for you. Jackie Lombardi.” Aunt Edna waggles her eyebrows, as if we should know who that is.
“Holy shit, Jacqueline Lombardi?” Nomi’s eyes go big, and Aunt Edna nods.
She reallydoesget it.
“Who’s that?” I look between the two women, fifty years apart but both just as shrewd.
“The zoning commissioner,” Nomi says. “Where is she, Edna?”
“Over by the piñata. She loves violence.” Aunt Edna thumbs over her shoulder. “Go and schmooze. Fix what you started, Julie, though I do wish you’d worn the short shorts.” She shakes her head. “You’ll learn one of these days.”
Nomi and I sidle up to a middle-aged woman plucking at a bowl of watermelon while watching the frenetic piñata attack. Standing beside her is Wilson Phillips, that weird guy from the city council meetings that complains about Sammy’s all the time.
“Ms. Lombardi!” Nomi holds out her hand. “I’m Nomi Wyeth, owner of the future Stranger Drugs dispensary downtown. I’msoglad to meet you.” When Ms. Lombardi just looks at her, Nomi drops her arm, recovering quickly by gesturing to me at her side. “This is Dr. Julian D’Angelo.”
