Page 15 of Storm in a D Cup

‘He wasn’t a kid. He was eighteen.’

‘And you were, what, forty-something?’ I countered, rapidly calculating the age difference.

I looked around at my family, from my parents to my siblings and their families to my aunts to my own children. I thought that I’d managed to drag the children away from all that Cantelli drama by moving to the other side of the world. I thought I’d also protected myself, but it was obvious to me that Dad and Marcy were at the end of the line. Vince and Sandra, ditto. Judy and Steve, ditto as well.

As I thanked my lucky stars for my healthy relationship with Julian, I couldn’t help but wonder. Why was it so hard to stay together? Was it a Cantelli trait? Ira had almost driven me to insanity slash depression. I should be supportive of them, not melancholic. Still, when I look back and remember our childhood, I saw the signs, loud and painful.

My aunts, who constantly turned down marriage proposals from all of Little Italy, seemed to be the only ones who, besides Julian and myself, were happy. How did they manage to not be lonely?

‘OK, everybody pipe down now, please, and enjoy your desserts. We’ve had enough drama for today,’ Julian said. ‘And then I suggest you all go to your rooms and calm down for the rest of the afternoon. It’s too hot to do anything anyway.’

‘Marcy – apologize to Erica and Julian,’ Dad said softly.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said hastily. I just wanted to get this lunch over without any bloodshed.

‘Yes, it does, sweetheart,’ he assured me. ‘Marcy?’

But Marcy just glared at him and took another sip of her wine.

‘Please,’ I whispered. ‘It’s OK. I’m OK.’

At that point, Zia Maria turned to me. She was the oldest of my aunts, but also the spunkiest. She took care of everything domestic, like cooking and cleaning. After my nonna’s death, it was she who had taken the reins of running our household, seeing that Marcy was only capable of napping all day long while the laundry basket exploded and the fridge got emptier and emptier every day. Zia Maria was, for all intents and purposes, our mother-in-charge and we all loved her fiercely for taking care of us so selflessly.

‘Of course you’re OK, sweetie,’ she reassured me. ‘Because you are like your mother Emanuela. You’ve got guts and you are strong. You have all her best traits and she had all of Nonna Silvia’s. You’re a winning combination.’

Marcy snorted and lifted her empty glass. ‘Yeah, Manu was a real concentrate of virtue.’

‘Donot… eventryto soil your sister’s reputation,’ Zia Maria warned her.

‘You shut up!’ Marcy slurred. ‘You frustrated tramp, trying to steal my husband from me with all your casseroles!’

‘I’m not going to listen to any more of this,’ Dad said, looking up from the table to me. ‘Sweetheart, forgive me, but I’m taking Marcy home. I’m so sorry that we’ve ruined everything, and so soon. Just when I thought we’d be able to make it to a week.’

‘Oh, Dad, no, please…’

‘Edoardo, don’t worry,’ Maria said. ‘You stay and enjoy your daughter’s family. ‘We’ll go.’

‘No, please don’t,’ my father begged her. ‘You and your sisters work so hard, you deserve a break…’

‘It’s fine. We can always come back on our own some other time.’

‘Of course,’ I assured her. ‘Anytime you want, the door is always open to you guys…’

‘Oh, butIhave to literally beg to be invited,’ Marcy snapped.

Why oh why did my family have to drag their baggage all the way across the ocean? Couldn’t they just bring sunscreen and flip-flops like every other traveler? No, of course not, we had to flog every family issue of the last fifty years, from my aunts’ role in our lives to my weight, to Judy’s infidelity – but never, ever, Marcy’s flaws. As if she was some fragile, glass princess who was never to be held accountable for her mistakes. Normal admin in the Cantelli household. They say Italian families are particularly solid, but you wouldn’t say that looking at mine.

So just like that, the whole band – all fourteen of them – had come and gone, just like they’d come from next door and not over the Atlantic Ocean. And in the space of three days. Thank you, Marcy, for turning our family into a circus.

‘Thanks for your support, honey,’ I said to Julian as we later loaded the dishwasher.

He shook his head. ‘Your family never ceases to amaze me.’

I snorted. ‘That was nothing. You should’ve seen Marcy at Maddy’s christening.’

‘Yeah?’

‘After her sixth gin and tonic, she climbed up onto the table and accused all of her sisters of having an affair with my dad – simultaneously.’

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