Twenty-Seven #4
“Hi, Mum. Merry Christmas.” Letting go of Miles’s hand, I gave her a hug, before stepping back to say, “This is Miles. Callahan. My boyfriend.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs Russo, it’s lovely to meet you,” Miles said, dripping charm as he handed over the flowers. “Thank you for letting me spend the day with your family.”
“Oh, yes! You’re welcome. What am I thinking, come in!”
She was usually so easy going, but she was also a huge tennis fan, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as she stepped aside, inviting Miles in with a stammer.
Miles, for whom no social situation ever seemed too intimidating, strolled on along the narrow hall without us, letting the sound of conversation lure him in the direction of the lounge room.
“Mat!” Mum hissed as she closed the door. “You never said your boyfriend was Miles Callahan!”
“To be fair, I also never said it wasn’t,” I pointed out, but before she could do more than look exasperated, a collective outcry erupted from the lounge.
“Is that Miles Callahan?” Nico demanded.
“Don’t point at him!” Dad said.
“Are you Matteo’s young man?” Nonna asked.
Mum hurried after him, bouquet clutched in both hands, but Miles had clearly decided he was here to enjoy himself and I wasn’t going to ruin his fun by speeding to his rescue.
By the time I arrived, Miles had introduced himself to my dad, and was holding out his hand to Benji, saying, “And you are either Benji or Nico and I’m afraid I don’t know which because Mat’s descriptions leave a lot to be desired. ”
“Benji,” Benji said, a little dazed as he shook Miles’s hand. He pointed with his free hand. “That’s Nico.”
“Nico,” Miles said, moving to shake hands with Nico next. “The one who also plays tennis.”
Instead of answering him, Nico looked past Miles’s shoulder to me. “Mat, you’re dating Miles Callahan?”
“Sure am,” I said, hooking an arm around Miles’s waist for emphasis and just because I could. “Surprise?”
“When you said you were bringing your boyfriend, we all figured it was just some normal guy,” Benji said.
“Yeah,” Nico agreed. “And now there’s a famous tennis player in our house for Christmas.”
Standing beside me in the middle of my parent’s tiny lounge room, Miles leaned his head against mine in as gesture of brief acknowledgement. “Well, there was always going to be one of those even without me.”
“Yeah, don’t I count?” I asked.
“Nah, you’re just Mat. He’s Miles Callahan.”
“Wow. Right. That puts me in my place.” Mum had handed Dad the enormous bouquet so she could dig around in a cupboard for a large enough vase, while Nonna sat watching all this from her favourite spot on the old couch.
Her eyes twinkled at me. “Here,” I said, pulling Miles toward her.
“Nonna, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Miles. Miles, Nonna.”
Miles held out his hand once again. “Lovely to meet you.”
Rather than shake it, she gripped the proffered hand and yanked him down close, saying, “Let me see you.”
“Oh god,” I laughed.
“Play nice, Mamma,” Dad said, a warning note in his voice that only made the whole thing more surreal, because here was my fierce and impulsive grandmother gripping Miles’s hand so tightly her fingertips were going white.
Miles, unable to straighten up, glanced sidelong at me as she scrutinised his face, and for the first time, he looked unsure.
I pressed my lips tight to hold in my laughter and waited. And he thought I was unpredictable.
“Um,” he said when a full minute had gone by in silence. “Am I supposed to do something?”
“Shhh,” Nonna hissed. “I’m trying to look at you. Stay still.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The twins had been laughing, but as long seconds dragged by, we all fell into breathless silence as we awaited Nonna’s verdict.
Eventually, with a satisfied little hum, she let Miles go.
Looking to me, she nodded. “Che bello. He’s very handsome,” she said.
“You two will make very beautiful babies together.”
“Mamma!”
“Oh my god.”
“Nonna, they’re both guys!”
Miles looked like a deer in headlights, his cheeks reddening as he stared at me amid the general outcry, and I couldn’t have stopped myself laughing for the world.
“Damned if I’m ever bringing anyone home to meet Nonna after that,” Benji said, shaking his head.
“Language,” Nonna snapped.
Benji sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fucked if I’m ever bringing anyone home to meet Nonna now,” he amended.
Miles’s head snapped around at the stronger expletive, and upon Nonna just nodding, he turned his shocked gaze my way with the expression of a man desperately out of his depth.
“I’m sorry,” I said, laughing so hard that tears ran down my cheeks. “This is just . . . what it’s like . . . around here.”
And Miles looked from me to Nonna and back, realisation dawning on his face. “This is where you get it from!”
“Apples don’t fall far from trees,” Nonna said, smugly smiling as she took my hand, pulling me down to kiss her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Nipotino. He makes you very happy, I think.”
“Yeah, Nonna,” I said, flicking a smile up at a still blushing Miles. “He really does.”