“Yeah, right through the slider, there.” Al gestures with the spatula. “Make yourself at home.”
I hightail it out of there, not even glancing at Joey as I leave. Thankfully, he doesn’t follow.
“Sophie!” Alberto’s wife, Carmen, greets me when I walk in the large, open kitchen. The women are gathered around the huge granite-topped island talking in loud voices as they sip wine and arrange food. “Al told me you were coming. It’s good to see you.”
I move forward on wooden legs to receive kisses.
“Summer, honey, say hi to Sophie. You probably don’t remember her, she hasn’t been around since you were probably six or seven.”
Summer, Al and Carmen’s gorgeous daughter, steps forward, and we cheek kiss even though we don’t remember each other.
Twin girls, about the same age, also move in for kisses. I totally remember them because identical twins stick in your mind. They’re Bobby’s daughters. “I think I remember you from a funeral,” one of them says. “I’m Janine.”
“Juliana,” the other one supplies. “I remember that funeral. You had on black combat boots. We thought you were so cool,” the other one says. “Did you disappear with Joey? Everyone was freaking out.”
“My dad’s funeral,” I say faintly.
“Oh.” Janine winces. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Janine changes the subject quickly. “This is Lexi, our soon-to-be stepmom.”
A young woman my age with a fabulous haircut and color shakes my hand. “Let’s not saystepmom,” she says to the twins. “We’re not even engaged, yet.”
“You’re going to be,” Juliana says.
“Nice to meet you.” I smile, wondering if her resistance is like mine.
This is the part of the family I’ve missed. This easy talkative acceptance. Large groups of people gathered in kitchens around food. People knowing who you are and that you belong, including you even when you don’t want to be included.
Except I don’t belong here. Or if I do, I don’t want to.
“Ma, you remember Artie Palazzo’s daughter?” Carmen says to Joey’s mom.
Donna Teresa gives me a speculative look. “Sure, I remember. You came with Joey?”
“Yes.” I present myself for kisses from her.
“Did you fix his back yet? That’s what he really needs. He does enough dating.” She waves a hand in the air as if to disparage the entire idea of dating and dismissing me at the same time.
“Eh, dating’s fine too, Ma,” Carmen says. “I’m thrilled. Joey hasn’t brought a girlfriend around since he broke up with Amelia over a year ago.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I assert, which Joey would probably argue with. It doesn’t matter because they’re not listening to me.
“He should’ve married that girl! She was perfect for him,” Donna Teresa cries, and Carmen rolls her eyes at me behind her back.
“Excuse me.” I escape to find my Aunt Marie. When I spot her, I give her a huge hug. Marie begins her usual gossip, which is a relief, as it keeps my mind off thinking about what Joey revealed about my father’s death.
He hesitated when I asked if someone here killed him. Which means my mom was right. My dad was killed by the LaTorre’s.
Does Marie know? How can she still be a part of this family when they killed her own brother?
When the men come in with the meat, I keep myself completely occupied with Marie, not up for being with Joey. Of course, he comes to stand at my elbow, and when I don’t take the hint, he puts his arm around my waist and directs me to a white leather couch in the living room.
Like most big Italian family gatherings, the house is packed with noise and people—children running amok, loud voices exclaiming and chattering. It usually makes it easy enough for me to fade away, but it seems coming as Joey’s date makes invisibility impossible. His mother plops herself in the easy chair next to us.
“So how is your mother?” Donna Teresa asks.