Chapter 19 #2
Rising on tiptoe, she kisses my cheek. “You’ve always been my favorite in the family, Tom. Don’t worry about us; just do whatever you need. And… if you could tell Nonna I’ll be out to see her as soon as you say it’s okay?”
I want to tell her to come this afternoon, as soon as she’s off shift, but then I think about the number of people at the estate right now and what we’re doing.
And how chatty the ghosts are. “I will. It’ll be soon, I promise.
She’s really into this thing she’s doing with the other ghosts, but I know she’ll want to talk to you. ”
Her eyes get wet, and she sniffs, but she’s nodding, and I give her a hug.
“Everything okay, Sara?” one of the parents of teens calls, and she pulls away from me and smiles at her.
“Yeah, sure. Just my cousin being a sweetheart.”
There’s a chorus of “ohhhhs,” and then attention turns away from us again.
“Okay,” Sara says, taking a breath. “I’m good. We’re good. You guys want lunch?”
“Yeah. I’ll get their order in a second, but can you grab them some sodas? I just want to stick my head in the kitchen.”
She gives me a level look. “No yelling. If I’m not allowed to be mad, neither are you.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t be mad,” I protest, but she just shakes her head. “Fine. No yelling. But I do need to check in with them.”
She waves me off, and I head back to the place where all the action is.
My uncle’s cooking, as usual. He’s supposed to have Mondays and Tuesdays off, since he works on the weekend, but he’s just as much of a control freak as the rest of the family, and his compromise was that he’d only work the lunch shifts on those days, and then take two lunch shifts off other days during the week.
That way, he’s here every day for at least a little while.
He’s part owner, so it’s not like I can argue with him.
My mom is just as bad. She does most of the front of house and staff management.
It was with great reluctance that she handed over the bookkeeping and payroll to me a couple of years ago…
and only because she was making errors that were giving our accountant an ulcer.
Things run a little smoother in that department now, and we’re no longer veering dangerously toward the red every month.
I find them chatting near the door to Mom’s office. The teens’ parents have all got their food, so Zio has a few minutes to spare. I guess it’s not a terrible thing for him to work a relatively quiet lunch shift.
“Tom!” Mom smiles wide when she sees me. “What are you doing here?” She tilts her cheek in my direction for a kiss as I stop beside her, and I oblige. She’s still my mom, and I love her, even if I’m mad at her.
“Running errands and thought we’d stop for lunch,” I reply. “And I got a message this morning from our flour supplier. They’re trialing a new line and wanted to know if we’ll try it out and give them some feedback.”
My uncle makes a face. “Last time we did that, we ended up with dry, grainy pasta.”
“I can tell them no, but they’re willing to send five pounds for free with our next order.” I shrug. I can’t see that it’d hurt to try making a single batch of pasta or pizza dough and trying the stuff out. This vendor was very understanding when Mom fucked up their payments a million times.
Zio must be thinking the same thing, because he nods. “Okay, sure. Five pounds, we’ll give it a shot, and if it sucks, I’m calling them myself to tell them.”
I snort. “Fine by me.” That’s not a call I’d enjoy, anyway. “A couple more things. I just told Sara this, so I may as well tell you, since we all know she can’t keep a secret.”
Mom laughs.
“It’s still new, but I’m dating Gabe Coates.
” I force myself to keep breathing evenly.
When I came out to my family, they were…
fine. Nobody threatened to disown me, but it’s not like anyone other than Sara was supportive, either, and I know most of them wish it would just go away.
They’re not violently homophobic, but casual homophobia was an ingrained part of my childhood, and I always knew that being gay wasn’t something that would be welcomed in my family.
They’re not anti-gay—they’ve always loved Skye and gotten along well with his dad—but homosexuality is for other people, not us.
It’s part of the reason I struggled so hard with my identity as a teenager, and the whole reason I never talk to them about my love life.
Which is another sign that I might be taking this thing with Gabe more seriously than our timeline calls for.
My uncle says nothing, a neutral expression on his face. Mom dredges up a weak smile. “Isn’t he one of Skye’s friends from work? That’s nice, Tom. I’m pleased for you.”
I wait a beat longer, hoping for nosy questions at least, even if she can’t muster enthusiasm, but there’s nothing. She doesn’t want to know. “Yeah. The other thing that came up while I was talking to Sara was Nonna.”
That gets a reaction. Their eyes widen, and they exchange a horrified look.
“It seems she didn’t know Nonna’s ghost was hanging around.”
“Tom—” my uncle starts, but I hold up a hand.
“I don’t want to argue about this. I have friends waiting to eat and a whole lot to do.
If you didn’t want to be the ones to tell everyone about Nonna, I can respect that.
But I don’t like that you lied to me, and I don’t understand why you denied them all this chance to either spend more time with her or say goodbye properly.
Sara knows now, and the others will find out. So… be prepared for that.”
I turn on my heel and make for the door. I’m almost there when I hear Mom curse and then footsteps chasing me. “Tom, stop.”
She grabs my arm, and I face her with not a small amount of trepidation.
“I wish more than anything—almost anything,” she amends, and I try not to think about that too closely, “that my mother had never shown herself to you. She should know better, should have let go and moved on like any decent person would.”
Oh my god, I can’t handle this. “Mom—”
“No, you know I’m right. She would have been the first one to say haunting your family was rude and that good people go to heaven. And if we argued, she would have invited the priest to dinner to school us all.”
I can’t argue with that. Nonna mellowed a bit toward the end, but I remember how she was when I was young. She was never easy to live with, and she had definite opinions. Not much has changed there.
But she’s still my grandmother, she loved us all fiercely, and even if Mom and Zio don’t think it’s appropriate that she haunt us, they have no right to deny the rest of the family the right to choose.
“I’m not arguing with you about this,” I repeat. “You did what you did. It’s in the past.”
She sighs. “I just want my family to be happy,” she says. “Is that too much to ask?”
Given her lackluster response to the news that I’m dating someone, that’s a slap in the face, but I let it go.
“Nobody’s unhappy. And maybe nobody will want to talk to Nonna,” I add, even though I know it’s not true.
Sara, at least, does. “I thought you should know so nobody could blindside you with it. That’s all. ”
Mom lets go of my arm. I wait just a tiny bit more, hoping for… something.
It never comes.