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He lifted his hands. “I’m just surprised. You’re usually more observant. Especially when it comes to her.”
He wanted me to take the bait. Because he loved fucking with people. He started to walk off when I refused, but he couldn’t resist dangling another piece before he disappeared.
He stopped. Looked at the cigarette. Rubbed it on the front of Valentino’s before he stuck it back in his pocket for later. “New girl who works there.” He whistled. “Causing quite a stir. She’s beautiful and fresh. Not the usual. Looks mighty familiar, though.” He shrugged, sticking a hand in his pocket, going about his business.
My mind zoned out. The entire street became a focal point. Hundreds of things were happening, but I didn’t focus on any of them. Thoughts were forming and coming together to form a picture.
The vision exploded, every detail of the street coming to life, when Norah called my name.
“Lilo? Carine is asking for you.”
I said nothing as I moved past her and into the house. Even though it was alive with voices and the scents of familiar foods, I couldn’t prevent the small death I experienced every time I saw the woman who gave birth to me in a wheelchair. Her body was failing her. But her smile—it was still so big when she saw me.
“Ma.” I leaned down, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
She tapped my face. “You look too skinny.”
“Why do you think I’m here?”
“Because you love me.”
“All of my life,” I said.
Her eyes shimmered with tears. She closed them when I gave her a lingering kiss on top of her head. I refused to even think about this moment never happening again. I knew she was feeling the same.
When I opened my eyes, Michele was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, watching us. Our eyes met and held. Lucila set her hand on his shoulder. A second later, he broke the contact, and she slipped past him with the flowers she brought. Michele refused to accept help with cooking on Sundays, so Lucila decided to start bringing flowers. She arranged them in ma’s favorite vases and set them on the table.
It was something ma always did, but Michele had overlooked it in his determination to make Sunday perfect for his wife. From the first time Lucila had done it, it became her thing. Me and ma would watch together as she completed the picture.
Our family picture—mine and hers.
She’d come a long way since that girl who didn’t want to eat in front of anyone. She fit in this house better than I did. But wherever she belonged, so did I.
Because light and dark always make shadows.
That shadow was all we’d created together. It was as permanent as the body I was born into.
Like she had heard my internal thoughts, her eyes rose to meet mine. They fell back to the flowers a second later. Probably pissed at herself for acknowledging the fact that she was inside of my head.
You can always feel change. I knew it was coming the day I heard her voice in this house. I knew it was coming again. I could feel it. The twisting was making my chest feel too small for my body, and my heart too big. Growing pains.
Michele started to bring the bowls and plates out. Sebastiano was right behind him. Norah sat at the table, her eyes on a glass of water. A sad reflection stared back at her. Ma took it all in with wise eyes. If it wasn’t for her pact to make every day count, I knew the sadness would have been on the surface. She hid it well.
Our relationship—the one between her son and her husband—had always eaten at her slowly. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was our punishment. In this, we were eternally linked. He loved her and so did I.
That was why we put our differences aside for one day. We were losing her. The one thing that brought us together in peace.
We all took our seats. Plates and bowls were passed around. Something or the other had been forgotten in the rush. Norah grabbed it, setting it on the table, but she winced when she did. Sebastiano was too busy eating to notice. Light conversation followed. Plain conversation. Safe words. Pleasant ones.
“Where were you last night?” I said to Lucila as I took a drink and she took a bite of food.
She looked around the table, acting like I was talking to someone else, and she had no clue who.
“You,” I said, nodding to her, not letting her skirt around it.
The table became quiet, except for Minnie, who was singing to herself while she ate.
“That’s really none of your business,” Sebastiano said. “It stopped being your business when—”
