19. Keith
KEITH
PRIDE COMES BEFORE A FALL, BUT MALICE COMES BEFORE A PRANK
“And you must be the Miss Angela we’ve all heard about!”
“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” my mother asked, giving me a teasing look over the heads of one of Olivia’s uncles, or maybe a great-uncle.
I really had tried to remember them all -including several flashcard sessions with my fiancé- but there was such a number of similar-looking family members who shared similar features and even the same name (like my Olivia, Olivia-Two, and Olivia-Three), that I found myself drawing a blank almost as often as I successfully remembered a moniker.
But what I did figure out was why pet names and terms of endearment ran rampant with the Rizolis. Because anytime I forgot, it was perfectly okay to say Auntie, Uncle, Zia, Zio, or Vecio and Vez. Those six words covered most of the bases.
“You and your son are quite the talk of the pa—town!”
“Uncle Luigi,” Olivia said, her tone a warning. “I think I might have forgotten to mention a certain skill you have.”
The older man’s kind, dark brown eyes widened. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That I am. Knock ’em dead.”
I had no idea what was going on, but my answer came when the old man hurried off to a younger woman and proceeded to ask something excitedly.
“What’s going on?” my mother asked but Olivia merely smiled into her glass of punch.
“You’ll see.”
Sure enough, the woman sighed, then reached into her purse and removed a small pouch, handing it over to the excited uncle. A moment later, he was back over to us, beaming.
“That was my wife,” he said, sounding as dopey as I often felt when bragging about Olivia to anybody who didn’t know her.
“Gorgeous, isn’t she? She’s a lawyer. Looks, brains, and a heart the size of Piazza del Colosseo!
Makes ya wonder what she’s doing with a schmuck like me, eh?
I’m not even the head al—of the family!”
“It’s because you make her laugh,” Olivia chimed in fondly. Her gaze flicked to me. “A man who can keep you laughing and entertained is the best match you can ask for.”
“Si! You got that right! Now, for the main event!”
The man opened the pouch with a flourish and removed four small balls. My brain immediately panicked at the idea that we were going to play an absurd game of catch, but then he started juggling.
“Not bad for an old man, eh?” he asked, going through several cycles with the projectiles without dropping one. He lifted his leg and tossed the balls under it without so much as batting an eye.
“Old man?” my mother objected while lightly applauding. “Please, you’ve got to be at least fifteen years younger than me!”
He squinted at my mother and looked like he wanted to say something, but Olivia made a choking sound that was much more real than my mother’s had been.
“Are you okay?” I asked hurriedly.
“Went down the wrong pipe,” she rasped while I patted her back. “Miss Angela, Uncle Luigi here is my father’s younger brother. He turned sixty-three at the start of the year.”
“I was almost the world’s best Christmas present, but I decided I didn’t want to share the holiday of my birth with any religious figures. Less presents, ya know?”
It was a funny enough thing to say, sure, but I could tell my mother was just as hung up on his age as I was.
Did the Rizolis have the fountain of youth tucked away somewhere in this large house?
He was only a couple years younger than my mother, whose hair was almost completely white, and all he had was some fine wrinkles, a receding hairline, and pepper at his temples.
“You’re kidding!”
He seemed perplexed at her response, but that didn’t stop him from adding spins to his juggling routine. “No. I was born in January…”
“No, I mean—” My mother shook her head. “You look great for your age.”
“Ah, grazie, you are too kind. I must give all credit to mi amore. She keeps me young!”
“And the juggling,” Olivia added, having recovered from her choking fit.
“Si, and the juggling.”
I probably could have stood there for another half hour, watching the man do his juggling tricks, but a tap on my shoulder pulled my attention away.
“Sorry to steal your man,” a fellow in his mid-twenties said.
If I remembered correctly, he was a cousin twice removed, and potentially named Paulie?
Not to be confused with another cousin three times removed who was named Polly.
“But us guys are playing dodgeball and we need another teammate to even things up.”
I was stoked at being invited to join in such a thing, but the look on Olivia’s face worried me. Did she know something I didn’t?
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea...”
“Aww, come on cugina! He’s a giant! Think of all the balls that he will block!”
“So you want to use him as a shield, then?” Olivia’s expression was growing darker by the second.
I didn’t mind being a giant, semi-mobile wall for the much faster Rizolis.
Being included was being included, even if it was as a sacrifice.
Besides, it wasn’t like I wouldn’t have fun shouting things from the ‘out box’, or whatever they called the area where everyone who had been hit with a ball stood until they were tagged in.
“Si, it is a great plan, no?”
Normally, that would make me chuckle, but suddenly Olivia was talking rapidly in Italian and she did not sound happy.
“Posso contare su di voi affinché ricordiate che é un essere umano?”
“Ovviamente! Non fare il guastafes—”
“Why do we need to remember my son is human? What else would he be?”
I swore every head in a fifteen foot radius snapped in our direction, and all the color drained from their faces.
“You speak Italian?” my fiancée asked, sounding like she wanted to puke. For all the time we’d spent together, I didn’t think I’d ever seen her wear an expression like that.
“Barely!” my mother said with a laugh. “Picked up some phrases from growing up close to Little Italy in St. Louis!”
“I see…” Olivia said shakily before chuckling. “Sorry, I just… guess I didn’t expect it. And umano is slang for guy. Not literally a human.”
“Oh, I see! Slang is always the hardest part of learning a language. The kind I picked up isn’t exactly appropriate for such illustrious company.”
“Illustrious now, am I?” Luigi said. He’d stopped juggling. “You are a very intriguing woman, Angela. Please, let me introduce you to my wife! I think she will adore you. You know, she went to college in St. Louis. Was the first woman in her family to get secondary education.”
“Wow, that’s impressive!”
He waggled his thick, bushy eyebrows. “I told you, my wife is una dea. I am just the one who gets to pray to her, si?”
“Si,” my mother agreed and the two walked off, leaving me a bit baffled at how the conversation had gone.
“So, about the dodgeball…” Paulie tried again and I could tell from the way Olivia’s lips tugged down that she was going to refuse, so I cut in.
“Babe, I actually would like to play.”
For the second time, her head snapped in my direction. She was going to give herself whiplash if she went on like that. She looked me up and down, then barely managed to train her expression into something more neutral before she spoke.
“Are you sure?” she asked cautiously. “Do you think you’ll have fun?”
“I do. It’ll be nice to get out of my comfort zone.” I took a step toward her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to me so I could kiss the top of her head. “I promise I’ll head right back if I’m not.”
She waffled another moment while her cousin made praying motions with his hands. Finally, she sighed. “Okay then.” But her gaze sharpened as she glared at Paulie once more. “You better be nice to him. Or else.”
“I would never dream of being anything but the best host you could ask for,” Paulie said, hand over his heart.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She rolled her eyes, then kissed my cheek.
And that was how I found myself conscripted into a dodgeball game against what seemed like a fleet of professional athletes.
It should have been a miserable time, as I was indeed used as a human shield for my smaller and faster teammates, but it wasn’t.
In fact, it was both fun and surprisingly flattering.
Mostly because the two sides kept arguing over whose team I got to be on and entered into spirited games of rock, paper, scissors to win me.
I’d never thought I’d win friends and be in demand for being a bit slow and a lot bulky, but I wasn’t complaining at all.
Especially when I caught one of the fastballs headed toward me as I pushed toward the opposing team’s front line, Paulie, Massimo, and Vinnie all behind me while armed with their own balls to throw.
One would have thought it was New Years Eve in Time Square with how everyone began either cheering or objecting and I was surrounded by a storm of Italian furor.
“Way to go, grande umano!”
“Ay, that’s our guy!”
“What? Since when can he catch?”
“Hahaha, Chenzo, hai lasciato che un umano prendesse il tuo lancio!”
“Laugh it up! He’s not supposed to be able to do that!”
“We call him on our team next!”
Was this how it felt to be popular in school? Suddenly, I got why that was so important to so many people.
“Guys, guys, there’s enough of me for everyone.
Oh, and also, I choose Antonio to come back in,” I said.
Then we were back in play, and I had to concentrate on tanking hits for my teammates when I could and being ready when I was brought back in from the ‘out box’ after they caught an opponent’s throw.
I wished I could say I developed some supernatural skill and continued to catch throws, but that wasn’t the case.
Honestly, though, that was probably for the best, because my many breaks allowed me to rest and catch my breath so I could make it to the end of our multiple matches without being a completely boneless, sweaty mess.
Suddenly, the turtleneck didn’t feel like the best idea.
Note to self, next time, bring a change of clothes for any surprise athletics.