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“This young woman with big love and big dreams up and left one day. Her parents took her away so she could pursue her dreams, but she promised your grandfather she’ll return for him. My father really believed her. She sent him letters and kept him involved, but it suddenly stopped. To make it worse, he kept seeing her more and more because, well…she was on TV.”
I flinch, and my eyes must have asked the question my mouth didn’t want to open and ask.
Dad gives me a half smile and a “Yes. Yes, my father was in love with Delores Vitale. He thought they were going to marry each other. Have kids together. But Dad fell into a deep depression as he watched the love of his life play many actors’ wives, girlfriends, jezebels, or whatever. When your grandmother came around, she had to snap him out of his depression. She made it her calling to shake your granddad out of the love spell that Ms. Vitale put on your grandpa.”
“What?” It sounds like a joke. A joke that I’m unsure is bad or not.
“Yes. This is all true. And when you came by with her granddaughter, I feared for you. I feared you would be left again. It’s one thing to have had Melody do what she did, but to imagine seeing you brokenheartedagainand from the same bloodlines as who broke your grandfather sounds like some karmic cycle that needs to be broken. That’s what needs to be broken. The cycle and not your heart!”
“Does grandma know I’m dating Delores’ granddaughter?”
Dad smiles and replies, “Yes. I had to tell her.”
My hands become numb as I watch my father drink his beverage. “This is really good.”
I smirk, hoping this means he has something good to say.
“So? What did grandma say?”
“Oh, she laughed.”
“Was she angry?”
“No. Not at all.”
“She laughed?”
“Yes, and then she said, ‘Wow. Again? I hope this Vitale is capable of making it last.’”
My heart burns. It burns because I feel that same sentiment. It burns because my heart will shatter if Nadia can’t make it last. It burns because I want to promise my grandmother that it will work. I need Grandma to know I am doing all I can to ensure it does.
For now, I keep Nadia’s pregnancy to myself. I want to scream it to someone, and being unable to do so is only overwhelming when I choose to think of it. I suppose it means I’m good at compartmentalizing this desire. All I have room for is to help Nadia see how in love with her I am. I want to hear if she’s willing to commit. And, by god, call me crazy, but I feel like she and I are simply meant to be.
Chapter 19
Nadia
GoingforlunchdowntownEvergreen with Nonna makes me feel like I’m in LA. Actually, not quite. In LA, old movie stars aren’t necessarily the buzz. The paparazzi would be satisfied with one quick full-face shot before searching for the more prominent, newer, or more controversial stars. Although, come to think of it, Nonna may attract the paparazzi to Evergreen after publishing this fantastic memoir.
I’m impressed with everything Grandma’s accomplished, and I wholeheartedly respect her complexity. Before, I was so concerned about the opinions of others, but now I am thrilled with how I’ve been able to make Nonna, and her whirlwind of a life, come alive on the page. This woman has grit and passion, and any opinion people may have that is negative is more than likely rooted in sexism. Women are allowed to be human, damn it, and Nonna made sure she did just that. There’s no such thing as a perfect woman, and I must admit that I internalized the theory of making sure people saw my grandmother as kind, friendly, and sweet because that’s what I believed she should represent. I no longer feel that way. That is a horrible way to view life and an awful way to view the expectations of women.
“This is a ridiculously amazing pleasure!” Our waitress named, Susan, greets us with enthusiasm.
“My mother loves you, and yes, if I can, I would love an autograph so I can –”
“After our lunch, Susan.” Nonna smiles at the waitress and returns to her menu.
“I’m thinking of having a steak salad. What about you?” Nonna licks her lips.
I watch the waitress head off as I look at the large patio. We are at one of the fine restaurants downtown. The day is hot and humid, and my curls are frankly nonexistent. I had to slick my hair back into a tight bun this morning.
“Maybe the kale salad with a huge sparkling water.” I wonder aloud.
“Sounds boring, Darling, but I get it.”
“So…you said you had something to share with me?” I clasp my hands shut.
“Well, first…what did you tell your agent? It’s been two days. Have you committed?”
