Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Romeo
"The premise of the game is simple." Mom points to a stack of note cards. "You write down something your partner doesn't know about you and put it in the hat." She does, in fact, have a hat sitting on the dining table. "I'll take items out of the hat, and we'll all guess who wrote the item."
We're inside now. On the couches in the living room. It's too early for cocktails, so we're filling up on coffee and tea.
Even with the air conditioning on high, the space feels warm. Too warm. It's still late morning. With the breeze from the ocean, it's not even hot outside.
Why am I sweating?
I take another sip of coffee. It doesn't help with my temperature, but the familiar rich flavor steadies my nerves. Ivy did well with the first game. She'll do well with this one.
Really, we should have the advantage here.
We know a lot less about each other.
"Are you going to play too, Amara?" Cynthia asks. She's sitting on the couch opposite us and she's in the position opposite Ivy.
Cynthia and Daniel on one side.
Ivy and I on the other.
Mom on the armchair in between us.
Like we're playing Family Feud.
"Who will guess mine?" She tries to play it off as a lighthearted comment, but there's sadness in her voice. She misses Dad. She always does.
Thankfully, she doesn't take the opportunity to pontificate on the beauty love, or love after death, or marriage.
There's more time for that later. After all, the entire day is filled with silly pre-marriage exercises.
And more tomorrow.
Or is it actual wedding planning?
There isn't too much to plan. The ceremony is family in the backyard. But knowing Cynthia, she probably hasn't picked out a dress, or shoes—whereas Daniel probably has his outfit moodboard framed.
Mom planned most of the ceremony. She has the time and the inclination. No doubt Daniel helped—he’s far more detailed oriented—and Cynthia happily let him take charge. What does she care about the exact shade of flowers in the bouquet? That sort of obsession is my brother’s domain.
But he’d never pick a dress for her. Too untraditional.
Can Ivy help her with that?
Is Ivy a clothes and makeup kind of girl? She's pretty and stylish, in her way, but she's not one of those women who draws a lot of attention to her looks.
Better than Mom's help though, no doubt.
"Why don't we all guess each other's," Cynthia offers. "It will be more fun that way. Keep things exciting. Besides, that's the only way I'll have something to guess. I know all Daniel's secrets."
"Is that what you think?" he asks.
"I'm not sure your 401k balance counts as a secret," I say.
"She knows that," Daniel says.
Cynthia laughs. "Not that I ever remember." She looks to the backyard with starry eyes. I need a cigarette eyes. Yes, she smokes, well, vapes nicotine too. The woman loves her substances.
"I'm sure he's got a few things up his sleeve," Ivy says.
Daniel looks to Cynthia and raises a brow dramatically.
She laughs and leans in to kiss him.
It's disgustingly cute.
And not a version of them I recognize.
Since when is he affectionate?
Did he take mushrooms and suddenly see all the love in the universe? Or whatever she said.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I don't know as much as I think.
He whispers something in her ear in Spanish.
She replies in kind.
I only catch half of it and it's dirty as fuck. That's really not like them.
What the hell?
Whatever. That's not what I'm doing here. I'm playing my part. I move a little closer to Ivy. I wrap my arm around her.
She leans into the gesture and looks up at me with a hazy smile. It's sweet. So sweet I forget it's pretend.
She really is pretty. I could get lost in those soft green eyes of hers.
"It is nice, to see the house full of love," Mom says. "Now. Remember, this isn't about winning or losing. It's about learning about our partners."
Cynthia's nose scrunches in surprise. If it's not about winning, why make it into a game? But Cynthia isn't one to ask that question. She's more like me. Someone who will ask that question to her friend in private.
"That's how we used to play as kids," Daniel says. "Mom would make up a game and somehow she'd always win."
"It was very convenient," I say.
Daniel smiles. An actual smile. It's a rare look.
It reminds me I don't just hate my brother's judgment. I love the bastard too.
I want the best for him too. The best relationship with Cynthia, the best business, the best house full of kids.
"Some parents coddle their children. That's not how we do it in Italy," Mom says.
Daniel laughs. "Mama, not everything is about the difference between Italy and the U.S."
"This is though. Have you seen the kids here? The classes they take? The big trophies they get for last place?" Mom asks.
"Oh no, is she really onto participation trophies?" Cynthia asks. "Now, you really sound like you're from the U.S., Amara. That's a cliche here."
"It is?" Horror spreads over Mom's face. "It is confusing for the children, to say winning matters, and it doesn't."
"Showing up is half the battle," Ivy says.
Cynthia nods. "That's true."
"It's not just showing up. It's trying hard. Being present. Now, enough talk. Time to play!" She motions to the pens on the table. "Write three things your partner doesn't know about you. They can be big or small, meaningful or silly. Anything."
There are a million things Ivy doesn't know about me. But what can I share in front of my family?
If we were a real couple, what would I say? What would I tell her to bring the two of together? To surprise or delight her with the endless mystery of my personality.
My first real celebrity crush—one where I wanted to fuck the famous person—was the sex worker on a Mexican soap opera.
I didn't quite understand the job, at the time, or why everyone judged her for it.
Only that she was beautiful and charming and lived a life of luxury solely because people enjoyed her company.
The weirder thing was that Mom didn't mind. She never questioned it. She understood completely.
I can't say it that way. People will wonder why I'm bringing up her profession. But I can share the crush. After all, Ivy doesn't know that, and Daniel rarely watched with us.
My first celebrity crush was an actress on a telenovela.
What else?
I only went to business school because my brother didn't think I could do it.
Too honest.
My first drink was limoncello.
That's small and easy. Perfect.
And something about Ivy. Something to make her feel special. To show her I care.
To show the room I care.
I have a thing for sex therapists.
Too obvious.
I love girls with PhDs.
I'm turned on my intellectual conversations about sex.
No.
That's it.
I write the secret, fold the paper, toss all three in the hat.
Everyone else takes their turn. Then Mom starts. She mixes up the secrets and pulls a notecard from the hat theatrically.
"I won't guess," she says. "Since I know all your handwriting, besides Ivy’s." She unfolds the card and reads aloud. "I didn't learn to swim until I was fifteen."
That's easy. Daniel.
But Cynthia has no clue. She looks around the space with curiosity in her eyes.
"Do we discuss our thoughts? Or go straight to guessing?" Ivy asks.
"Why don't we have everyone speculate on their partner," Mom says. "If it could be true of them or not. I can start." She smiles. "Of course, I know when my boys learned to swim. But you two, I have no idea. Cynthia, I do remember you coming over in that bikini all the time."
"Trying to get Daniel's attention," Cynthia says.
"You did," he says.
"You barely looked at me," she says.
"You just didn't notice," he says.
They exchange a lovey-dovey look.
Which is good, right? There's no sign of jealousy. No worry I'm going to steal his girl.
Maybe this is some non-issue Mama invented.
Mom waves her hand at them how silly and continues, "Ivy, I saw the way you looked at the pool again and again. The way a swimmer does. But maybe I misread. Maybe that's the way someone who learned late looks." Mom motions to the next person clockwise, Cynthia. "Your turn, sweetheart."
"Daniel never did come out to the pool with me," Cynthia says.
"He rarely wants to go to the beach. But then I take it for granted too.
And now that I think about it, I rarely see him in the water.
He usually dips his feet. Or lounges with a beer.
" She looks at Daniel. "Did you really not know how to swim until you were fifteen?
" Surprise fills her voice. She can't believe she didn't know.
"I'm not supposed to tell you yet," he says.
She smiles. "You didn't. Wow. It is his, right?" She looks to Mom.
"Let me ask Ivy and Romeo first." She looks to us. "Could you believe it?"
Ivy taps her chin. "I'd be surprised. I grew up on the swim team. I live in the water. I suppose I haven't ever been to the gym to swim laps with Romeo, but the way he looked at the pool… it wasn't the way I did, but it was with a similar affection for the water."
Mom nods. "He was on the swim team, too."
"I knew there was a reason your shoulders were so sexy." She blushes, but I can't tell if it's a put on or not.
Mom smiles. She's here. She's believing it. "Okay, next confession." She reads from the next folded index card. "Even though I grew up in Southern California, I've never been to Mexico." She smiles. "Well, I know that isn't any of us."
"And you know it's not Cynthia." Daniel laughs. "Since she came with us last year."
"Really?" My eyes go to Ivy. "You didn't tell me that."
"I know." Her blush deepens. "I was embarrassed."
"Why?" I ask.
"It's close. And it's our heritage. Not mine, ethnically, of course, but this was all Mexico once," she says. "It feels wrong, to never visit the country properly."
"You have to come," Mom says. "On our next family trip. If you can stand to spend another week with us."
Since when do we invite girlfriends of three months on family vacations?
I shoot her a curious look.
She waves me off.
"I'd love to." Ivy looks to me with wide eyes. She moves a little closer. Places her hand in mine.
She wants to connect.
Or wants to look like she wants to connect.
Of course. This is a pivotal moment in a relationship. Meeting the family. Finding acceptance there.
I squeeze her hand and lean in closer, but I don't kiss her. Instead, I rest my forehead against hers.
She melts into the gesture for a long moment then she pulls back with a smile. The easy intimacy of a couple in love.
It's a sensation I don't recognize. A glimpse of a life I've never had.
The ability to connect with someone, to feel true intimacy, to grab a hit of love anytime you need it.
I can see how that gets addicting.
The she scoots back to her original seat, and that feeling is gone. Only reality remains. We're playing a game on top of a game.
None of this is real.
We go through another round of silly answers. Daniel's secret hatred of mezcal. It tastes like licking a barbeque.
Cynthia's secret stash of gossip magazines. Ivy's best friend knows details about our sex life. She's never told me that. But, of course, I assumed.
I did tell her to go wild. Share with anyone.
Women either want to keep an experience with me secret or they want to share it with the world.
Then it's mine. "I didn't think I'd ever fall for someone who knew more about sex than I do." Mom laughs as she reads the card. "I suppose that could be either of you." She looks to me and Ivy. "The professional."
So that came up in this morning’s conversation. Good. Better if Ivy can be as open as possible. "Or the very active amateur," Cynthia laughs.
Ivy's lips curl into a smile as her eyes find me. "I bet you didn't."
"I didn't," I agree.
"But theory is different than… experience," she says. "It plays out differently."
"Even so." This time, I pull her into a slow, deep kiss.
This time, Mom clears her throat, even as Cynthia hoots and calls, "get a room."
And the game continues. Mom opens the next card, and her lips curl into a frown. Still, she pushes forwards. "I'm nervous about getting married."
Immediately, Daniel looks to Cynthia.
Immediately, the air in the room gets stale. Too hot.
There's something between them. Something they haven't discussed. Something they need to discuss.
"It's normal," Mom says. "It's a major commitment. And it's a big to-do."
But Cynthia still shrinks back. "I, uh… excuse me. I'm going to get some air." She stands and moves to the backyard.
Daniel watches her. "Let me talk to her."
Mom shakes her head. "Give her a minute. Then talk to her. It is normal, mi vito. Not everyone is as steady as you."
He nods of course, of course, but it doesn't wipe away the worry from his expression.
"Let's take a break," Mom says. "Have some free time. Pick up after dinner. In fact, Daniel, let's take a walk. Talk a little."
Daniel raises a brow. Is she really offering us alone time in her house?
But that is part of intimacy.
Sex.
Maybe she is.
And he should know better. We're Latin. We don't need to pretend sex doesn't exist the way Americans do.
"Sure." He stands and follows her to the kitchen. "We can walk down to the beach."
She nods. "After the walk, I'll send Romeo and Ivy to the beach. So, you and Cynthia get some time to yourselves."
But that only makes him frown.
Are they having a sex problem?
But he was so flirty earlier. Or is that an overcorrection?
I have no idea what to think. It's hard to imagine Daniel struggling with anything.
But I suppose, if I really do like Ivy, stranger things have happened.
I wait for them to move to the backyard, where they're going to tell Cynthia the plan (no doubt in nicer terms than hey, stay here as long as you want, but don't be surprised if you come inside and hear your soon to be brother-in-law coming inside).
Then I move a little closer to Ivy, and I fall back on to what I do know.
"So… how should we take advantage of our alone time?" I ask.
She smiles. "This game gave me an idea, actually." She smiles. "Secrets we can share."
"Oh?" I ask.
She nods. "I tell you one of my fantasies. Then you tell me one of yours. Then…"
"Then…"
She nods. "Should we meet upstairs? Or start here?"
"Upstairs," I say. "And in lingerie. To make it more fun."
"I didn't bring lingerie," she says.
"Then I guess you'll have to start naked."