Chapter 43
chapter forty-three
Natalia
Camilla was like the final boss in a violent video game.
I’d actually all but forgotten about seeing my parents for the first time since the disaster that was Dad’s birthday dinner. Instead, all of my anxiety was tangled in a heaping, agita-inducing ball of nerves about soothing the hemorrhaging relationship with my oldest sister. If I could get through to her, then it would all be worth it. My expectations were as low as physically possible, so low I wouldn’t blink an eye if she walked in the room wearing off-white. At least then we could talk it out.
The restaurant hosting our rehearsal dinner was Tuscan inspired. The walls were vaulted and behind the bar counter, wine bottles lined wooden shelves backlit with yellow ambient light. Vines twisted around the room’s columns and through rustic trusses as a pianist tucked into the corner played melodic classical music. I was winning all the brownie points with the Durans for this one, and caught my reflection in a pane of glass between the bar and the private event space to give myself a pat on the back.
One long dinner table took up the length of the room with place settings and placards on each plate. I’d opted to hire the venue’s event coordinator to make sure everything went according to plan, and she’d gone ahead and separated each side of our family into their own respective end of the table so there were no awkward musical chairs as our bridal party arrived.
My sisters were already there, floating around the hors d'oeuvres waiting for us. The bubbly prosecco I’d drank in the hotel room to calm my nerves settled like a sunburn in my chest. I squeezed Matty’s knuckles so tight he hissed. “Fuck, sorry.”
“You good?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Great.”
Mateo tugged my chin toward him, the touch of his fingers lingering there as he swept a long strand of my hair behind my ear. “Do you need me?”
“Go buy me some time with the rest of the guests. My mother and father should be here any minute, unless they double-booked this weekend somehow.” My head twisted toward the doors, looking for them.
Mateo swatted my ass, sending me in the direction of my sisters. “Even I don’t think they’d stoop that low.”
I feared we might not have reached the pinnacle of lows my parents would find in our lifetime. I was, however, ready to tackle anything with my husband by my side without the loneliness that was conquering it myself as a young adult.
My sisters were crowded together and made room for me to step into their small circle in the corner of the room inconspicuously. They were all in different floor-length floral cocktail dresses that matched the vibes of Key West in June perfectly. Cami wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and I plucked a stuffed croquette off a small crystal plate in Mia’s hand and shoved it into my mouth to prolong the silence further.
“Thanks for coming,” I managed around a mouthful of soft-shell crab. It was hotter than I anticipated and I crouched over, ha-ha-ha ing the burning appetizer. Mia shoved her plate under my chin and I let it drop unattractively from between my teeth.
“Careful, that’s hot,” Bella joked.
“No one saw it,” Mia assured me.
I wiped the scorch off my lips and blew out a breath. Camilla looked at me then. Her soft brown eyes were just like mine, but more tired from long days working in the hospital. She was the most structured woman I’d ever known, even as a kid. Keeping codified planners, picking outfits days in advance, turning homework in early, managing being a multi-sport varsity athlete. She was a lot like Ophelia. A true planner and doer. The weight of the world was on her shoulders as the first daughter of John and Sistine Russo, and my guess was her spite for me at the moment had a lot to do with that.
“We should talk,” I said to her, leaving the floor open. I’d understand if she didn’t have much to say to me, but I’d rather clear the air than wait until after the reception, or worse, never broach the subject again. Camilla’s plum lips thinned but she nodded agreeably.
Mia and Bella peeled away from us on cue, leaving the spit-up croquette plate on the edge of the table to be swept away by the waiter. God, this was uncomfortable. It was like playing a game with a black bear, staying as still as possible hoping it might see you as a friend and not a foe. I thanked my wilderness exploration elective in college for that.
Camilla was not a black bear, though. She was in her own bracket of the food chain.
“First off, thank you,” I started, treading on the side of caution. “For not making a rash decision for the entire family and giving me some time to reflect on how hard this has probably been on all of you, too. I’ve been keeping that in mind, how I’d feel about it if the roles were reversed, and to be honest I can’t give you a straight answer. I’d like to think I would be free of judgment, supportive, proud, and maybe curious. But the truth is I’ll never be able to put myself in your shoes because we live entirely different lives. Sometimes I think about you, and what you do and have accomplished, and I can’t even believe we share DNA.”
She twisted her rings around on her fingers, a pop of color splashing across her cheeks in the low light. “Did you know that Dad hasn’t had a drink since his birthday dinner? Completely cold turkey. Not even a glass of wine on Sunday afternoon with Mom. It’s like a switch flipped or something.”
A chill brushed over me. In twenty-six years my dad hadn’t gone more than two days without a beer in his hand or a shot of Baileys in his coffee. She was lying, or mistaken. She had to be.
As if she could sense my disbelief, she continued.
“Yeah, whatever Mateo said to him changed something. He’s a different person. I noticed it right away because he lost some weight, and he was in a better mood on his days off. When we were both in the hospital at the same time, he’d come find me for lunch or just to say hi, which was absolutely foreign.” She scoffed out an annoyed noise and stretched a long finger toward me. “But then I realized it was you.”
“It was more likely waking up in a pricker bush by the pool covered in his own vomit that drove him over the edge.”
“Nope.” Camilla shook her head. “It was your fiancé. It was the threat of losing you to a bigger, better man. And that really shouldn’t have, but it pissed me off,” she admitted gruffly. As if it made her angry with herself. Her attention flitted around the room briefly and then refocused. “I’ve been begging him to care that much about me for my entire life. I did everything he and Mom ever wanted: the grades, the extracurriculars, Ivy League, medical school, residency, fucking unintentional celibacy because no one in their right mind would want to be with a woman who works as much as I do. But none of that was important enough to get sober. Not my graduation, or white coat ceremony, or my honorarium. You’d think a man who spent half his time under a surgical lamp would be more proud.”
“He is.” I lurched for her hand, entangling it with mine. “I agree he has a funny way of showing it, but I know you’re his golden girl, Cami. You’re perfect, and you do it all on your own, which is why he doesn’t have to worry about you. I lived for your approval as a kid. I still do,” I pressed. “I’m standing here seeking it right now, because I didn’t look up to Dad growing up, I looked up to you.”
“And here I am, jealous of you,” Camilla said. My head tilted, mind spinning to process that. “You have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
I reeled back, almost speechless at the thought of Camilla envying anything about me. But based on the soft sincerity in her eyes, she was being completely honest. This was the most vulnerable she’d ever been.
“I’m kind of at a loss for words,” I murmured.
“I thought I was getting over it. Well, coming to terms with it over the last few months. When everything came out in Vegas, it put me right back in that headspace again. I was so spiteful, and judgmental, more angry than I knew what to do with because you are…doing what you do, and you still get to have the life of your dreams. You don’t have to worry about Mom and Dad, you’re engaged, you have a home and a business and a best friend who clearly already knew your secret and celebrated it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I wouldn’t change anything, but goddammit, there are no rewards for being the patron saint of Russo.”
“It’s not fair, you’re right,” I rushed out. “I get it, Cam, I really fucking do.”
“Then I realized it’s not Dad, and it's not you, it’s not the twins, and it’s not even Mom.” She sniffled, dabbing her finger softly at her lower lash line. “It’s me regretting something I never had. I might have never even wanted it, but I didn’t get to make that choice. It wasn’t right to leave you in the dark for the last few weeks, and I’m sorry.”
I understood everything. Camilla was the first born, the eldest daughter, the role model. She was right, she didn’t have a choice because she was born into the position. By the time my parents had me six years later, it was like all that expectation had been divvied out already. The pressure she had on her trickled down onto Mia and Isabella, but merely sprinkled onto me. I took it for granted, and for the same reasons I resented Camilla for being the most important person in my parents’ lives, she envied me and my freedom.
My teeth sank into my bottom lip. A fresh wave of emotion blurred my vision and before I second-guessed it I was wrapping my arms around Camilla’s thin frame and resting my chin on her shoulder. She met me in the middle, letting go of a deep, stuttering breath. “We’re more alike than you think,” I said.
Her hand rubbed a soothing circle between my shoulder blades. “I know. We’re two sides of the same coin. I would probably never take my clothes off for thousands of people, but I share a similar passion for other things.”
A curt laugh darted out of me. “I’m not asking you to be a fan, by the way. I know it’s a lot to accept, and I can’t even really ask you to keep it to yourself. I just don’t want to lose you over it.”
Camilla stepped back. She fixed the strap on my dress that had slipped down my shoulder and ran a finger sharply across my winged eyeliner to keep it intact. “You know that thing Mateo said in Vegas, how we’d keep a secret for our sister because we love her? Well I do love you, Talia. Even if I won’t be asking you how work has been on the holidays.”
“I can live with that.” I beamed. My throat was dry, and my mouth still felt weird around the words, but I made it a point to say, “I love you, too.”
Camilla’s lips twisted, eyes glossing over again, but she cleared her throat and looked away, finding our parents walking into the room to wave at. “We’re good, sis. Go have fun and enjoy your party.”
Mateo had already started a conversation with my parents across the dining room by the welcome sign, and Camilla wasn’t kidding, color had returned to my father’s entire body. Gaunt eyes plump and alert, structure had returned to the bones in his face that were so often swollen. He was sharper, yet somehow softer at the same time. Warmness in a usually cold gaze, awareness that made it seem like he was finally looking at me and not straight through me.
“Dad,” I greeted him and leaned in for a side kiss. “You look great.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Mateo added.
“Thank you.” He stuck his hands in his chino pockets, staring at the ground. “Quit the booze. I’ve never felt better.”
Mateo’s eyes flared toward me, as shocked as anyone. “That’s huge,” he said. “That’s great, John. I’m stoked to hear that.”
“Being at a wedding isn’t easy for sobriety,” my mom chided, tugging me into her for a long hug before putting me at arm's length and giving me a once-over. “Love the dress, honey.”
“Not easy, but we’ll make sure you have whatever you need,” I promised. I wanted to see this through for my father. He deserved that support. This wouldn’t only be valuable to him, it would change the entire dynamic of our family. It would be like starting fresh, new. For the first time in my life my relationships with my siblings and parents had a chance to really matter. New beginnings. Opportunities. Things to look forward to. Hope was blossoming inside my chest like flowers sprouting in the spring. Everything changing from grayscale to technicolor. I was Dorothy landing in Oz.
The same way my mother looked at Mateo the first time she met him, with a curious awe and hand-over-heart admiration, was how she reacted to the Swans when they introduced themselves. I had to give it to those two, they were absolutely astounding on paper. Respectful, charming, well-adjusted, and the perfect amount of mischievous to keep Sistine laughing like a schoolgirl with a crush. Even Dad was impressed. Frankie stuck with Mateo while Ophelia and I traversed arm in arm, and I let her chew my ear off about details and timing, the hairdresser, the makeup artist, every last minute of the next day until I reminded her I had a day-of planner and she was off the metaphorical clock.
My sisters floated around the room making their own introductions, and my worry washed away like the ocean tide I could hear through the windows of the restaurant. I should have kept in mind that Italians would migrate to other Italians, the one common denominator enough to unite whole cities of people. It always turned out that through a friend of a friend, or a cousin in college, a business partner, a second marriage, we were all three degrees separated.
By the time dinner was served, the placeholders were gone, and the table was a glorious mess of intermingled family and friends all in the same room to celebrate the same thing. I didn’t expect the night to be so emotional. After so many years building a wall to protect myself from being let down over and over again, fearing that I’d never have the connection to my family that I craved, that closeness and camaraderie, the tears I’d shed for all the wrong reasons were making these tears I shed for the right ones fall in spades.
Everyone toasted Mateo and me, and even in my white dress, with my husband's gentle fingers drawing hearts into my skin, surrounded by the people who meant the most to us in the world, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that the best days of my life were still yet to come.