She chuckled quietly. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“Would love to raise the baddest bitch who’s ever lived.”
This time, she released a louder laugh. “You and Aurelia can pull it off.” She finished chopping her onions and slid them off the plate and into the pan with the beef. Immediately, everything started to sizzle, so she added more olive oil. “How many kids do you want?”
“One, honestly.”
“One?” She stopped what she was doing and looked at me like I was crazy. “No such thing as one kid, Constantine.”
Every Italian family we knew had at least three kids and a bazillion cousins. “I know, but I like the idea of having one and only. Putting all my love and energy and resources into just them, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll feel differently as we go through life, but it’s hard for me to imagine not falling madly in love with this kid and possibly desiring another.”
She turned back to her cooking when that answer was enough to satisfy her.
We continued to cook, and once all the ingredients were ready, we prepped the lasagna together, putting layers of sauce, freshly grated cheese, and noodles over and over before she popped it in the oven.
We sat at the table together and shared a bottle of wine.
“When will your friend be here?”
I grabbed my phone and checked for messages. “Said he just landed. So, probably an hour.”
“How do you know him?”
“From work in Rome.”
She nodded before she took a drink of her wine. “I’m excited to meet him.”
“Yeah, he’s cool.” He was cool enough that he wouldn’t be annoyed by hanging out with my mom tonight instead of going out to a bar or something. “You’ll like him.”
She swirled her glass, then took another drink, her eyes glazing over like she suddenly went somewhere else. The air around her changed too, suddenly becoming heavy like a storm was moving in over the ocean.
“Ma?”
When she didn’t look at me and snap out of whatever funk she was in, I knew she had something to say. “Your brother should be here. He should be your best man ... sitting right here with us.”
My heart dropped straight out of my stomach. I’d finally found my closure, so I felt nothing but joy for my upcoming nuptials. But for her, there would never be closure. She would grieve every single day until God took her soul. “I know.”
She continued to swirl her wineglass unnecessarily. “I know I shouldn’t make this about me—”
“It’s okay, Ma. I know you see his face every time you look at me.”
She suddenly sucked in a deep breath as her eyes began to smart. “I loved your father, even if he was a lazy piece of shit, and I was devastated when he passed. But it’s nothing like losing a son.” She tried to blink the tears away, but her eyelids couldn’t move fast enough. “A pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.” She took a few breaths before she downed the rest of her wine, the only thing strong enough to pull her back together. Then she grabbed the bottle and refilled the glass once more.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and ever since I knew I was going to be a father, I feel a lot closer to you.”
She turned her head to look at me, her dark eyes tinted with red, the skin underneath puffy even though she hadn’t really cried.
“I’m worried about someone who’s not even born yet. Worried about how they’ll do in school, if they’ll be able to make friends easily, if I’ll punch a kid if he says anything mean to them, if I’ll be able to let them learn to drive, if they should go to college, and if so, where? How I’ll react when they bring someone home for the first time, if my heart will break into a million pieces the day they move out. I worry about an entire lifetime every single fucking day. And it makes me realize howmuch you’ve put up with from all three of us. That you were a rock star of a mother.”
Her eyes started to water again. “Con ...”
“That I hope I’ll be as good as you were.”
As if she couldn’t take what I said, she looked down into her glass, even though she’d never been shy, never been one to drop eye contact first.
“And ...” My voice caught before I even said my sentence. “I’m so sorry that you have to carry this pain every single day, and I selfishly pray that I’ll never have to know it myself.” I hoped I would live a long time, to see as much of my child’s life as I could, and then die before them. I loved Aurelia more than words, but the love I already had for this nonexistent person ... it was just different.
She was quiet for a long time, not responding to what I said, not consoling me or making me feel better like she normally did. Then she said my name, said it in a tone that made my arms break out in bumps. “Con.”
