Page 25 of Mending Our Chance

13 Felicity

I could lie to her.

The possibility tempted me as I stood in the lobby of the apartment complex two weeks later. As I waited for the elevator doors to open, I couldn’t help but feel that my fate was being decided for me. It was the middle of February and Auntie Gi’s numbers had improved, making her a prime candidate for the experimental drug trial. And she was chomping at the bit to begin treatment.

I was bringing her good news, but it was shielding the truth behind my business decisions. I had avoided her calls and given her vague answers for several weeks now. I still wasn’t prepared to tell her that I had ventured out on my own. I knew it had been a good decision, even though it wouldn’t be immediately lucrative.

Her apartment was in a safe complex and although the unit was small and sparse, I could afford it on a teaching salary in addition to my own expenses. Auntie Gi’s health had been failing when we lived in California. But she was strong. Perhaps too strong, I thought as the elevator doors opened. When I had lost everything, she had taken me in. Stepping into this elevator only reminded me of the fact that I owed her a great deal. And I will see that she is well taken care of. But sometimes, we pay today to live tomorrow. I just hope she will understand what I did and why.

I watched my reflection as the elevator traveled up to her apartment on the third floor. Her late husband’s life insurance had kept her fed and warm, but she had also tied her hopes onto me and my business career. When I chose to teach, Aunt Gi had smiled tightly and said I should look into contract work on the side. That had been a brilliant idea. And now it’s going to pay off, I reminded myself.

The elevator doors pinged open and I stepped into the hallway. I spotted my aunt’s apartment door and I wished I could open any other door but hers. Spending the evening with a stranger was more preferable to spending it with a grouchy old woman. I was conscious that the bag of biscotti was my only shield. When the door opened, my aunt’s watery eyes sparkled ever so slightly. The sight shocked me. She has faded even more.

I plopped the brown bakery bag into her soft, pudgy hands and went to start a pot of coffee. While the delectable liquid percolated on the stove top, I chatted about mundane things. She had a greedy nature and could not be patient. By the time I had cups and saucers on the table—which had a soiled linen cloth over it—Auntie Gi had already devoured three biscotti.

When we had been in California, I thought my aunt’s lack of manners and ceremony was refreshing. It had been a nice change coming straight from the traditional household my parents had kept. But now that I was mature, I longed for the more civilized and time-honored ways of doing things. For instance, I knew that my grandmother, Gianna’s mother, would never have allowed a table linen to remain filthy on the table, like the one I had just set cups and saucers onto.

Slamming the pot of coffee a little more firmly onto the table than I intended, I blurted out, “I am going to buy table linens for my house. Where do I find them?”

Gianna, who had started on yet another cookie, shrugged. “I thought you didn’t like things like that? But I suppose you could try Target?”

No, I would not go to a chain store. Maybe one of the international markets would have some, or there had to be a quaint shop in this great city that sold linens made from organic cottons or actual linen cloth. Otherwise, although it would be an outrageous sum, I could order one from the Old Country.

“Maybe Matteo or Alonzo would know,” I mused as I sat down and poured two cups of coffee. “They keep tabs on who from the Old World sells authentic goods.”

“Those boys called me again,” Gianna replied with mashed cookie in her mouth. Those thin lips were unable to keep crumbs from spewing out, further dirtying the nasty table cloth.

Her comment was the opening I needed. I began firmly, “Look, we need to talk.” I took a sip of the coffee, burning my tongue in the process, and forced out, “I have started another company. A consulting job turned fruitful.”

Auntie Gi smiled and nodded. Reaching into the bag of biscotti, she grabbed another cookie before offering me one. I took one lest I miss out. She munched away happily, no doubt grateful that I had purchased a large amount.

I carefully set my biscotto on my saucer and splayed my fingers on either side of the still scalding coffee as I said carefully, “The experimental procedure has been scheduled to begin ten weeks from now. I set it up when I called about the down payment.”

Gianna ceased her gorging. “Why can’t we do it sooner?”

“You know, I would have thought a ‘Congratulations on your venture’ or at least a ‘ooh, tell me more about this new business’, would have been nice to hear.” I shook my head and decided to brave a sip of my coffee, silently asking that it gave me strength to deal with the tirade that Auntie Gi was no doubt winding up to unleash.

“I thought you had the money we needed.”

“I own a company, Zia.”

“You spent it?” Gianna accused, rising from her seat.

“Yes.” I set the delicate cup back down onto its saucer. “Is that so hard to believe? I finally stuck my neck out into the world and now I’m going to make something of myself. Fuck teaching—wasn’t that how you felt? That I should be at a global company doing great things and collecting a fat paycheck? Well, I’ve gone and done one better. I will not make another man rich—I will make myself rich.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Great! How soon?”

I sighed. “It takes time, Zia, but if you want into the experiment sooner, you know where there is plenty of money that is rightfully yours…” My voice trailed off and I stared into my cup, no longer bold enough to meet the heat of her gaze.

“How dare you? I will never go crawling back to them!”

I suddenly rose from my seat and stared at her. “They opened the door, Zia! The family wants us back into the fold. This is our chance. We could go back on our terms. Looking back, I don’t see why we broke off from them completely anyway.”

“Bah! Has a case of dementia caught you, nipote?” Auntie Gi waved her gaunt arms around. “Let me remind you that you married a man you had just met—who your father said was a gold digger!—and when that proved to be true, you couldn’t face him after the rift you created!”

“You supported that foolish stint!” I yelled back at her. “Maybe I was wrong. I can admit that. Can you?”

She turned away in disgust. “Ceasario is poison. Get it through your head.”

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