Chapter 20 #2
“Okay, that’s enough. Forget I asked. Just…just come along. I’ll tell them you were in town for business and I decided to bring you.”
“I am in town for business. I’m on the clock and have been since I left my house.”
He eyed the cookies, suddenly understanding the phrase eating your feelings. “Let’s go, then. You’re expensive.”
“Worth every cent,” she said, and he did not disagree.
* * *
An hour later, they were all seated around the giant dining room table in his parents’ house.
Everyone had gone a little crazy when they saw her, practically trampling him to hug her.
“I didn’t know you were coming!” Lark said, wiping away tears of joy at seeing her sister, though surely, it had been a matter of days since they last got together.
“Oh, my God, I love your dress!” Sofia had exclaimed, prying them apart for her own hug. His parents greeted her warmly, and then, finally, his mother hugged him and patted his cheek, Dante had brought him a beer, which Lorenzo didn’t want. He was already sweating.
“The great man deigns to visit,” Izzy said, and Lorenzo ignored her, as he always did when he sensed he’d be the butt of a joke. Sofia came over, William on her hip. “Say hello to Uncle Lorenzo, honey,” she said, prying the child’s arms off her neck to pass him.
“Hello, William,” Lorenzo said, taking the reluctant boy. William screamed, then pitched himself backward, writhing, until Lorenzo put him down. William ran to his father and clutched his legs, sobbing as if Lorenzo had just bitten the head off a kitten.
“I think he hates me,” Lorenzo observed.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Sofia said.
“I hate Lowenzo,” William sobbed. “Make him go.”
Now the food was served, wine was flowing (water for him) and the noise was deafening. Winnie was not being at all useful, just eating and talking to his family and getting them all to like her more than they already did.
“Brother, what stick is up your ass today?” Dante asked, his tone pleasant. “You’ve barely said a word.”
“Yeah, Lorenzo. Why so quiet?” Izzy asked.
“Oh. I…” He looked at Winnie, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “I’m just tired,” he said. It was a cop-out, but the thought of talking about feelings made him feel a little ill.
“Poor Dr. Satan,” Izzy said. “Work is hell, I gather? See what I did there? Satan? Hell?”
“Leave him alone,” Mom said. “He works so hard.”
“I also work hard, Ma,” Izzy said. “Harder, because I’m a nurse.”
“Excuse me, I’m a teacher,” Sofia said. “I have twenty-nine children in my class this year, and they’re all feral.”
“Yet they worship you,” said Henry. “Queen of the feral children.”
“Sorry,” Dante said. “My wife is an ER doctor, busy sewing severed limbs back onto people.” That wasn’t true, Lorenzo knew, because obviously an orthopedic surgeon would do that.
“Meanwhile,” his brother continued, “I run into burning buildings and rescue babies and puppies, so I think we can agree that I win.”
“All you kids work hard,” Dad said. “You get it from your mother, who spent all day in the kitchen making this for you.”
“It’s amazing, Ma,” Dante said. “Thank you.”
Talk turned to their mother’s cooking and talent. Lorenzo looked pointedly at Winnie. See? he wanted to say. I told you this wouldn’t work.
“Actually, Lorenzo, why don’t you…tell them that…thing?” Winnie suggested.
“What thing?” he growled. In other words, no.
“Are you two getting married?” his mother gasped.
“We are not, Mrs. Santini, but thank you for the joy in your voice just then.” Winnie took a bite of eggplant and widened her eyes at him.
“I would kill to have you as a daughter-in-law,” Anita said. “Lark, imagine that! Your sister and your sister-in-law!”
“That would be very unique,” Lark said. She turned her kind eyes to Lorenzo. “What did you want to talk about, Lorenzo?”
The table quieted, more or less. William looked at him and whimpered.
Winnie looked at him steadily. Go ahead, she mouthed.
Lorenzo put down his fork and inhaled. “Well. Yes. I…I suppose I did want to bring something up.” Everyone was looking at him. Sweat trickled down his back. “I’ve always felt a little…separate from the rest of you. Being sent to St. George’s—”
“Oh, please, not this again,” said his father. “Lorenzo. That was a gift. A privilege. Do you know how much we spent on that school? You loved it there. It was where you belonged. You didn’t even want to come home for the holidays!”
“You aways wanted to stay with Noni,” Sofia said.
“He was welded to Noni,” Izzy said. “He used to tell me straight out that he was her favorite. Which was true. I don’t think she ever fully understood that I was also her grandchild.”
“I was seven at the time, Dad,” Lorenzo said. “And yes, it was a stellar school, but I’ve always felt…somewhat…isolated because of that. From the rest of you.”
“You mean, you don’t want to be superior to the rest of us?” Izzy asked. “Isn’t that kind of your thing, though? Telling us how much smarter and better you are?”
His shirt was now stuck to his back. “No. It’s not my thing.”
“Well,” Dante said. “It’s been your thing, brother.”
“I’m trying to say that…sometimes…I feel…” Wistful. Lonely. Envious.
“Bitter?” Izzy offered.
“Resentful,” he snapped. “Because you’re all this big happy pile of puppies, and I was sent away and became who I am and now just pay for college and weddings and houses and vacations, and no one here really even…” Shit. This was going horribly.
“Lorenzo, maybe you could be a tiny bit more diplomatic?” Sofia said. “Everything you just said, you gave to us without anyone asking. You offered. You’re very generous, and we’ve all thanked you many times.”
“Do you want us to put up a statue?” Izzy said. “Maybe carve your face into the side of Mom and Dad’s house? Would that be good enough?”
“Harsh, Izzy,” Dante said.
“Me? Are you kidding?”
The conversation was sinking faster than the Titanic.
“No! I’m trying to say I…I just wish I hadn’t been…
sent away.” For a second, it was like he was in the back of Noni’s car, looking out the back window as his family grew smaller and smaller, Noni’s stream of Italian meant to make him feel better and somehow making him feel worse.
His mother threw down her napkin. “Are you going to criticize us, Lorenzo? We did what we thought was best! We sacrificed for you! Do you think it was easy sending you off to that school? Do you think my heart wasn’t broken every night when I saw your empty bed?
You were too smart for a regular school, and when your grandmother told us about St. George’s, it seemed like the best thing for you.
And here you are, ridiculously successful, but now we were bad parents? ” She burst into tears.
“I didn’t say that,” Lorenzo said, rubbing his forehead. Why had he listened to Winnie? Why?
“You made your mother cry,” said his father.
“Nice work. She worked all day on this meal, and God knows how long it’s been since we all got together, and you’re bringing this up, Lorenzo?
You’re forty-one years old. Get over it.
Honey, please don’t cry. Come here.” His father wrapped an arm around his mother and glared at Lorenzo.
No one said a thing. William then joined his grandmother and started wailing. Lorenzo glanced at Winnie, who looked frozen, then down at his plate.
Dante cleared his throat and said, “Well, completely meaning to change the subject…” He took Lark’s hand. “Mom, Dad, you’re gonna have another grandchild.”
There was a beat of silence, then the room exploded with shrieks and shouts and congratulations.
For one second, Lark caught his eye and smiled, and Lorenzo gave her a nod.
Happy news for sure, and not surprising.
Winnie yelped with joy and hugged her sister, and Sofia was telling William he would be a big-boy cousin, and Izzy ran downstairs to the wine cellar that Lorenzo had stocked for his father for his sixty-fifth birthday and brought up champagne, and the rest of the night was all about baby names and breastfeeding and cervixes.
Lorenzo didn’t have much to add other than congratulations. He hugged his brother, kissed Lark on the cheek, got his mother champagne and felt like a criminal.
An eternity later, Lorenzo and Winnie got in his car and headed for home.
“We’re going to have a niece or nephew,” she said happily. “Wow. I’m not a hundred percent surprised, but it’s such great news. They’re coming to Wellfleet tomorrow to tell my side of the family. They’ll be the best parents.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him, then straight ahead. “Sorry your talk didn’t go well.”
“It did not go well. You are correct.”
That was all the conversation they had for the next fifteen minutes. His jaw was locked with frustration. When they pulled into his driveway, he said, “You’re welcome to spend the night.” Then, because that sounded too suggestive, he added, “Downstairs, of course.”
“Yeah, I knew that.” She tilted her head to look at him. “What? You clearly want to tell me something.”
“Your advice was disastrous,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t listened to you.”
“It didn’t land right, that’s for sure. I’m sorry.”
“It was disastrous!” he repeated. “No one wants to hear anything from me. It doesn’t matter how I feel, because apparently, I’m not allowed to have feelings. I have a successful career, and I should never ask for anything, even if it’s just to feel a little less like a stranger in my own family.”
Her face softened, and she put a hand on his forearm. “Oh, Satan,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be! I don’t know why I thought you would have something intelligent to offer.”
“Wow. That’s really rude.”
“Well, Winnie, you don’t know them, do you? You don’t know us. It’s very clear no one in my family cares that there were aspects of my childhood that…left a mark.”
“It’s not that they don’t care, I bet. Besides, it’s important to say those things anyway, even if you don’t get the response you want.”
“Why?” he demanded. “So I could be insulted and dismissed?”
“Well, no. But I guess you have to accept what they can and can’t give and let it go.”
“Where was that advice before, Winnie? I thought I was supposed to pick my scabs and tell them how I felt. But now it’s ‘let it go’? Can you stick with just one pop psychology theory, please?”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I am, Lorenzo. I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted.”
“I have what I want! Look around, Winnie! I’m very successful! I have everything! Life has worked out extremely well for me, in case you didn’t notice.”
Was that pity on her face? Pity? “It’s okay to want more, Lorenzo. To connect with people. To let them see more than one side of you. And you could, if you’d just get out of your own way.”
The pressure in his head made it feel like his eye was about to pop out of the socket. “You know what?” he said, his voice flat. “You’re fired.”
She blinked but said nothing.
“You think I’m someone I’m not, and it’s maddening,” he went on. “What about your own life? You’ve spent years underachieving career-wise, you chose an idiot to fall in love with, and somehow you feel qualified to lecture me on how I’m doing. It’s condescending and tone-deaf.”
Her face turned stony. “I’m condescending and tone-deaf?”
“Thank you for your work. I’ll pay you for the whole night, and you can stay here if you’ve had too much to drink—”
“I had a ginger ale and water.”
“Good. Then you can drive home.”
“Fine. I’ll expect a glowing reference.” She got out of the car, then bent down, her ponytail slipping over her collarbone. “And you’re right about the idiot I chose to fall in love with.” Then she slammed the door of the Lamborghini as hard as the car would allow.