3. Nettle Soup #2
“You’ve changed too, Jo,” I told her honestly. “Thanks for being so kind. You’re a good sister.”
Her cheeks pinked in response. “Well, then. You’ve been gaga over this guy for literally a decade, and I, for one, want to meet him. This is your shot, Mimi. Take it.”
I groaned. “Joni, I just gave you a compliment. But can you please just stop pushing me so hard? I’m not going, and that’s that.”
“Well, you two didn’t waste any time.”
We turned toward the stairs, from which Lea was entering the house.
As the second oldest and default matriarch of the family since our grandmother had moved back to Italy, Lea was the definition of the overbearing older sister.
After getting married young, she stayed in the Bronx, had four kids, and harangued and henpecked the rest of us into keeping our family together even after we left the neighborhood one by one.
And now she was alone and hurting.
“What are you fighting about now?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I abandoned the counter to give her a hug. “How did the appraisal go?”
Lea slung a backpack onto the counter and scrubbed a hand over her face. “It was an inspection, actually. And fine. I guess. I don’t know—they don’t say anything to me until tomorrow, when I’ll probably get a laundry list of things to repair. Thanks for taking the kids, Jo.”
Joni hopped down from the counter to rub Lea’s shoulders. “Anytime. You know you don’t have to handle it alone. We’ll help, won’t we, Nathan?”
Nathan looked up like he was brand new to this conversation. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
“Frankie and Matthew already said they would cover any of the repairs you need,” I mentioned. Two of our other siblings had married into some legitimate money recently; Frankie was an actual duchess now.
But it wasn’t the money that was stressing Lea out.
Zolas were a proud bunch—none of us wanted to take what we considered hand-outs, even in a time of crisis.
Lea, however, was being forced to suck up her pride for the sake of her kids.
Her husband, whom she’d met when she was only eighteen, hadn’t had life insurance.
The garage was the only thing she could sell to keep her family afloat while she figured out what to do after eleven years of being a housewife.
“Do you want me to see if the Lyonses have any vacancies at Prideview?” I asked. “They’re always looking for new maids. I know it’s not the funnest job in the world, but they do pay well.”
Lea’s face twisted as she shook her head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’d rather poke my eyes out than clean up after some rich assholes. No offense, Nathan. I’m sure your family is lovely.”
He shrugged. “None taken. And they’re not.”
“I have a college degree,” she said. “I haven’t used it for more than a decade, but I did keep the books for a profitable garage. Maybe I can find something as a business manager or an assistant.”
Joni and I traded looks. It wasn’t impossible, but we both knew how hard it would be out there for her to find a job after so long, and on top of that, to find something that would accommodate her family.
Lea was scrappy, maybe more than any of us.
But how was she going to take care of four kids on an assistant’s salary?
“Lea,” I tried again, a little more gently. “I’m sure Mattie or Frankie would give you a loan?—”
“I’m not taking their charity.” She shot up, causing her messy bun to bounce on top of her head. “It’s not an option. It’s just…not.”
Nathan, Joni, and I all shared more dubious glances.
“It’ll be fine,” Lea said, though more to herself than to us. “It’ll be fine. Now, before the gremlins realize I’m here, what were you two bickering about when I walked in? Marie, what does Joni want you to do, and why are you too chicken to do it?”
It was clearly a move to distract us. And it worked.
Nathan straightened, and Joni opened her mouth, clearly spoiling for one of our classic fights. Lea seemed to be prepping herself for her typical “momager” role in keeping the peace as well.
We were all slipping back into old habits faster than a tunnel at a water park.
Joni turned to Nathan, who was now watching the three of us like a zookeeper might watch lions about to escape their enclosure.
“Babe?” she asked sweetly. “Would you mind giving us a minute?”
With a glance laced with warning directed at me and Lea, Nathan nodded. “I’ll take a look at the stable again.”
“Come here first.”
They shared a look, and Nathan slipped a hand around Joni’s nape to deliver a kiss that was almost inappropriate for company.
Lea’s eyes watered as she stared at her hands. My chest tightened as I looked away too. Despite his nonplussed demeanor, Nathan turned on like a light switch whenever Joni needed it. She’d told me once that he only ever kissed her like it was the first time.
It must have been a hell of a first time.
After the door closed behind him, Joni turned back to us, out of breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked me bluntly.
“And…here we go.” Lea folded her fingers together and stretched them inside out, like she was prepping for battle.
“Don’t start. Either of you.” I turned away and wrapped my arms around my waist.
I loved my family, but I hated it when they looked at me like this. Sad Marie. Poor Marie. Pathetic, ridiculously shy, socially backward Marie. My siblings had only ever seen me as a baby bird that needed to be bossed into socializing, dressed up like a mannequin, and kicked out of the nest.
I didn’t need their interference anymore.
How could I explain to them in a way that made sense?
Maybe it took me longer than them, and maybe I was still going to move more slowly than they would like, but I was learning to put myself out there at my own pace.
And being apart from them, being in Paris, had been instrumental to figuring out how to break out of my shell.
“Someone needs to tell you what’s what.” There was a thump as Joni hopped off the island and came to stand next to Lea. “Her boss invited her to a big party tonight. Not the older one, but the brother she has been in love with for a decade.”
“Daniel?” Lea asked. “ He asked you to a party?”
God. It was like I was sixteen again, the day Joni found the notebook where I’d scribbled “Mrs. Daniel Lyons” in a million different fonts and showed it to everyone at Sunday dinner.
My face heated like an oven. “Yes. We were sitting next to each other on the plane. But he didn’t recognize me at the time. Now he knows I’m the cook.”
“So what?” Joni pushed. “You still got an invite. He likes her.”
“Yeah, but she works for him,” Lea argued.
“Exactly.” I turned back. “It’s inappropriate.”
“It’s a party, not a lap dance,” Joni retorted.
“Paris was supposed to wake you up. Help you start living your life, and I know you have been dreaming of this moment since you were fifteen, Mimi. No one is going to fire you for attending a party they invited you to. Is there something you need to tell me? Did you figure something out over there?”
I scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re twenty-five, almost twenty-six, and you still haven’t kissed anyone other than Carmine Mottola in your fourth-grade play. Unless you got up to something in Paris and never told me.”
Lea’s mouth fell open.
Mine followed suit. “That is none of your business?—”
“Oh, stop. It’s me.” Joni waved away my concerns. So typically Zola of her. None of my family members had ever cared about something as basic as privacy.
Granted, it was different with her. Joni and I may have fought constantly growing up, but we’d also shared everything, right down to a bedroom, until we were out of high school.
When she thought she and Nathan were done last spring, I was the safe haven she ran to, all the way to Paris, instead of our other sisters’ homes in New York, to Frankie in London, or our brother in Boston.
I was the first person she told when she was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia over the summer and started medication and therapy.
I also was the only one who ever knew anything about her past. The good and the very, very bad.
She knew all my secrets too.
Or the significant lack thereof.
Lea, however, was new to some of them. “You mean you haven’t even…”
I sighed. “No, I still haven’t…kissed anyone. Thanks for telling, Jo.”
I didn’t need to add “or anything else” to that sentence. The first admission was embarrassing enough.
But for once, Joni wasn’t looking at me with judgment about my status as a nun without vows. There was no taunting, no bullying, no obnoxious jokes about popping my cherry.
Over the last year, my sister had learned compassion. Maybe that came from learning to be compassionate for herself too.
“Are you ace?” she wondered. “Aro?”
I frowned. “Am I what?”
“What is that?” Lea wondered. “Lord, I’ve been out of it for too long.”
“Asexual or aromantic,” Joni clarified. “They’re spectrums, like most things to do with sex. I thought maybe you figured that out and didn’t want to tell us. Kind of like Kate and…”
She flipped her hand at the poorly kept secret of one of our sisters having had at least some relationships with women, though she’d never discussed it with any of us openly. Nor had she offered any kind of label.
I considered.
I knew I liked broad shoulders, but not too broad.
Men with long legs, but not too muscular.
Nathan’s physique, for instance, was too much for me.
But I knew what it felt like to be physically attracted to someone, even if I’d never had the guts to do anything about it.
Just like I knew what it felt like to pine for someone who had no idea you existed.
“Oh.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. Definitely not aro, anyway.”
“Well, of course not,” Lea put in. “She’s been fantasizing about becoming Mrs. Daniel Lyons for a decade.”
“But sex?” Joni prodded. “It’s okay if you don’t want it, you know.”