I guess we’re past the three dates. We’re seeing each other. I can pretend it’s still just about sex, but it’s honestly been more than that from the beginning.
He spent the night after our first date. I made him dinner for the third. We’re exclusive. He deserves more of a mention to my mom.
“Hi, honey!” My mom answers.
“Hi! How’s it going?” I refill my aromatherapy diffuser with the cellphone tucked against my ear.
“Good. So who was the guy you were with last night?” Leave it to my mom to pick up right where we left off.
“Yeah, um, that was Joey LaTorre.”
There’s a beat of silence.“What?”
“Uh huh. He came for a massage and then asked me out on a date. So, ah, we’ve been seeing each other.”
“Oh my God,” my mom says, like I just told her I have cancer. “Are you crazy? Do you know how hard I worked to get away from that family? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking Joey’s a great guy. He’s good to me. We have great…we’re really attracted to each other.”
“Oh my gawd. I do not want to hear about that. Especially not when it relates to Joey LaTorre. I can’t believe this.”
I picture my mom pacing around her kitchen, throwing her hands into the air with despair. She always had a flare for the dramatic.
“What’s the big deal?”
“You know what the big deal is. Once you’re in the Family, you never get out.”
“Well, that’s obviously not true because you and I are out.”
“Yes, but it was hard. It was hard when your dad was alive because they knew I didn’t like it. And then after he died, they were always watching over us. Pauly used to stop by all the time to check on us. I was half-afraid they’d tell me I couldn’t leave town when I moved to Florida with Bill.”
“Why were they watching over us? Like they thought you would rat them out? Do you know things?”
“Of course, I don’t! I don’t know anything. That’s the way they keep it. If you know things, you’re dead. End of story.”
I hear what my mom’s saying. It’s the same story she’s always sung. I heard it hundreds of times after my dad died. I never questioned it then. But now, I’m starting to wonder if it’s just her bias.
“I think Pauly was coming by to make sure we were okay, Mom. He used to bring us money and take care of things at the house. That’s what I remember.”
“He was your dad’s capo. He was responsible for your father’s death.”
“How do you know?” I demand.
“Well, he pretty much told me so the night it happened. He came and told me–” My mom stops and curses. “We can’t talk about this over the phone. The line could be tapped. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Cold prickles run across my arms. Does she know something for real? Or is this just the same old vitriol she used to hurl at my dad?
Then again…What if Pauly killed my dad? I asked Joey if the man who killed him would be at the barbecue, and he hesitated. Pauly was there.
Uncle Pauly–the guy who gave me money for my prom dress, the guy who helped me buy my first car–he killed him. I’m sure of it. He’s the only one who cried at the funeral, which at the time made sense because I thought he was my dad’s boss and best friend.
“What did he tell you, Mom?” I croak.
“I can’t. We can’t talk. Sophie, don’t go poking into anything with that family. Just walk away. Stop seeing Joey. Never invite that kind of darkness into your life again.”
“I have to go, Mom,” I say, ending the call without waiting for her to say goodbye.
I lean my back against the wall and follow the thoughts zooming around my head.