Page 32 of Wish I Were Here
“Go mow the grass, then,” Ginny calls after him. When he’s disappeared around the corner, she turns to me. “Please excuse my son, Angelo.”
“Do you two live nearby?” I ask, taking another bite of soup.
“If by ‘nearby,’ you mean ‘upstairs,’ then yes. We’ve lived with Ma ever since my kid’s sperm donor stopped paying child support.”
Luca grins. “She means her ex-husband. Angelo’s dad.”
“But sperm is pretty much all he’s contributed,” Ginny says with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We like it here. Ma can help out with Angelo, and I can help out around the house.” She kicks Luca under the table. “Since my deadbeat brother never comes around.”
“Hey.” Luca kicks her back. “I was here onSunday.”
“Leave your brother alone,” Lorraine calls from across the kitchen. “He’s a good boy.”
Ginny rolls her eyes.
“So, speaking of absentee parents,” Luca says, standingup from his chair. “Catherine and I want to get your take on something.” He whisks my bowl away, fills it with more soup, and sets it in front of me again. I inhale it while Luca gives them a quick overview of my situation.
“Wow,” Ginny says when he’s finished talking. She turns to me. “I can’t believe that you just don’t exist.”
“Me neither.” I take another bite of my soup for comfort.
“And your dad thinks your mom has your birth certificate?” Lorraine asks. I nod, and she shakes her head. “Why in the world wouldn’t he just tell you what he knows? If it were my kid, I’d be knocking down doors if it meant I could help.”
“We know you would, Ma,” Luca says with an affectionate smile.
Lorraine reaches over to give his shoulder a squeeze. There’s something about the unconditional love and fierce protectiveness all wrapped up in that small gesture that has my heart tugging. Is that what it would have been like to have a mother?
I know my dad loves me. But I never really felt that kind ofprotection, like he was looking out for me. It always seemed like I was the one looking out for him. Maybe I’m romanticizing, though. Maybe, in reality, my mother would have been a total nightmare. She left, after all. Who does that?
“And your mother,” Lorraine continues, echoing my own thoughts. “I can’t imagine what would compel her to leave her own child like that. Theremustbe something wrong with her, because you’re obviously a lovely girl.”
“Ma,” Luca cuts in. “Maybe Catherine doesn’t want to talk about this.”
“No, it’s okay,” I assure him. She’s not saying anything I haven’t thought about a thousand times. And quite often, I concluded that if my mother left, it meant there was something wrong withme. Lorraine doesn’t really know me at all, but I’ll take any reassurances that it wasn’t my fault.
“Maybe you’ll think it’s sexist of me,” Lorraine continues. “But I speak from experience when I say that men take off all the time.” She huffs out an indignant breath. “But what kind of mother leaves her kid?”
I glance around the kitchen. Is Lorraine referring to Angelo’s sperm donor when she speaks from experience? Or was there a man who left her, too? For the first time, I wonder about Luca’s dad. Is he in the picture? I search Luca’s face for signs that this conversation upsets him, but when he catches me looking, the corners of his eyes crinkle and his lips curve upward. But this time, it’s not that signature grin that lights up a room. This smile is more subtle, and even though we’re here with his mom and sister, I know it’s just for me. A shakiness radiates out to my limbs. I never noticed the little hazel flecks in his dark eyes before. I want to keep staring, keep searching for what else I can discover about him.
Ginny clears her throat and leans forward, propping her elbows on the table. “So, what do you know about her?”
My cheeks heat, and I tear my eyes from Luca’s. What were we talking about?
“Any idea where she might live—or anything?”
Oh, right. My mother.
I shake my head. “My dad won’t tell me anything abouther.” I glance at Ginny. “I guess you could call her my egg donor. I’ve never even met her.”
Ginny presses her lips together in sympathy, and Lorraine gives me a squeeze on the shoulder. I have the strangest urge to grab her hand and hold on.
“So what do you think?” Luca asks, leaning back in his chair. “How can we find her?”
Ginny and Lorraine share a glance and then in unison say, “Uncle Vito.”
