“Hmm. Yeah. I mean, our families do some fucked up shit.”
“Tell me about it. I still haven’t heard from my fiancé. It’s been weeks and no call, nothing. I don’t get it.”
“You’ll hear from him at some point, I’m sure of it.”
“How is Marco?” I switch the topic to avoid talking about a man who can’t be bothered to call or court me. He’s treating me like I’m invisible, and it’s making me feel powerless.
“Marco loved the pictures of me in that dress and was terribly jealous, which made for incredible sex.”
“Really? Jealousy drives a man crazy, huh? I guess a healthy dose of it is okay.”
“Yeah, you don’t want the crazies. Do you think this guy you’re marrying will be faithful?”
“No clue. I think it’s better not to have any expectations. I hope he’s faithful, but you know Italian men. They all meet up on Saturday nights while their wives sit home watching nighttime soap operas and eating chocolate. I don’t want that to be me in twenty years.”
“Me either.” Laura pauses
“Did you tell your father what happened?” I ask.
“All I know is your father did something, and as a result, the guys are a bit jumpy. The consensus is that your family is the target. Don’t you know anything?”
“Right, in a world where we call men ‘uncle’ who are not blood relatives, and none of the kids at school come over to play. If they did, it’s short lived, and we are tight lipped. I have no idea what really happens under my nose. But Uncle Federico hasn’t been around so much since his daughter, Ignazio, is out of town again. God, I despise her.”
“Yeah, she’s a bitch on wheels for sure. I wonder if she was locked in a sanitarium all those years. I mean, no one asks any questions and she just popped up out of thin air after two decades of visits twice a year.”
“Well, that family gives me the creeps,” I add. “I wonder what the story is behind that.”
There’s a knock on my bedroom door.
“Yeah?”
Ridolfo comes in and hands me two small boxes. “It’s for you.”
“From whom?”
“No clue, you’re supposed to get it so now you have it.”
Ridolfo leaves, closing the door behind him.
“What’s happening?” Laura asks.
“I got presents, I think. Let me hang up and check it out.” We make a kiss, smacking our lips together, and ring off.
It’s Christmas Eve, we’ll go to Mass tonight as a family. We don’t go overboard with gifts like in America. We prefer to give food, breads, jams, wine and small items, especially now that we’re grown up.
Giovi has an apartment, but after the event in Rome, he’s been living here again. Papa forbade him and his crew from hanging out at any restaurant or bar, so he has gone nowhere, besides work, for the past month.
Sometimes I feel like a criminal under house arrest, minus the ankle bracelet. I’m not in the Christmas mood and resorted to shopping online for family gifts. The only part I enjoy is wrapping them and making sure each gift is pretty.
Curiosity gets the best of me as I pick up the box wrapped in thick, shiny red paper. I experience a rush of excitement like when I was younger and used to look forward to St. Nick every year.
I run my fingertips over the box. It’s almost too pretty to rip open. I carefully remove the white bow and beautifully tied ribbon before tearing off the paper.
Wow! It’s a new phone. I can’t wait to use all the new features and try out the camera. I look for a note but there isn’t a card.
I know from advertisements that this is the latest release. I turn on the phone, and after it boots up, a notification pops up saying there is a message waiting.
This phone is different from mine, but I manage to find the messaging box.