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It used to annoy me until it hurt until finally, I didn’t even hear him anymore.
I knew he was right.
“But…I love you as my son all the same,” he says, smiling suddenly, which is a rare sight.
Come to think of it, I don’t ever remember seeing my Papa so happy as I’ve seen him today.
“I had my doubts about the girl,” he adds, moving his eyes briefly toward Jasmine before looking away again.
“Who could know there’d be two girls roughly the same age in the restaurant when our men went in for revenge? The plan was to grab his daughter. To keep her comfortable, but let Portello think we’d stooped to his level.”
Which I’m glad they didn’t.
“Once you found out who I really was, I thought you’d get rid of me,” Jasmine says suddenly, and both my parents look at me instead of at her.
I feel a mild confusion, but it’s replaced with annoyance once it dawns on me that maybe Mama and Papa don’t automatically approve of Jasmine, just because I do.
When Jasmine fires another question about what actually happened to the real Maria Portello, along with the rest of the family, it’s clear my father is losing his good mood.
He gives me a sullen look, urging me to quiet Jasmine down.
Papa never likes it when people talk too much. And Jasmine’s a certified blabbermouth when she’s nervous.
I can’t stay annoyed or even serious once Jasmine starts to ask so many questions.
She’s everything that’s been missing my entire life until now.
She’s outspoken, and even though she tells me she’s clumsy and a non-achiever, she’s got more balls than most men I know.
I’m not sure my parents feel the same level of affection, though.
But I know I love her now, I mean. Ireallylove her.
Like white horses and a carriage on our wedding day, kinda love.
Not just something you’d say off the top of your head. You’d show her.
I’dshow her. Like I plan to.
Like I’ve been trying to, only because I’ve never even mouthed the words myself.
Her questions are kinda compelling, though, and I give my Papa a semi-pleading look.
Hoping he’ll respect Jasmine and her differences as much as I have to respect his and my Mama’s decision to live the life they have up until now.
Papa surprises me with his answers, though.
And not all of it’s to do with Jasmine.
“I kept you so close and for so long, Rocco…because I knew you wanted out. I knew you weren’t made for this life like your Mama wasn’t. But I dragged you both down into it with me,” he says, reflecting on things none of us can change now.
Except by letting them go.
“I figured you might grow into it, that being the man of the house, next in line to me, you’d be the one to take over once I was gone. I was wrong,” he says, but with a tear in the corner of his eye, that lets me know he’s not disappointed.
Far from it.
“You’re your mother’s son, alright,” he adds, wagging his finger at me, and it’s Mama’s turn to say something.
