Page 60 of Wish I Were Here
But Luca has already crossed the street and is standing next to the mailbox on the curb in front of the house. We’re in an upscale residential neighborhood in the middle of the city, so while Luca might not be mistaken for someone who lives in one of these houses—especially in his white T-shirt, black trousers, and beat-up black leather sneakers—he could probably pass for a gardener or pool boy.
Luca looks left and then right. A couple of cars swish by on the road, but the sidewalk in either direction is empty. He does a quick spin that reminds me of Mrs. Goodwin, reaches into the mailbox, and grabs a handful of mail.
I watch as he lifts his shirt and tucks the mail into his waistband. And then, instead of returning to the car, he looks left and then right again, and then creeps toward the house.
What is he doing now?
Luca approaches a window on the ground floor, stands up on his tiptoes, and peeks inside the house. We’re going to get arrested for sure. He moves to the next window and does the same.
Fifteen seconds later, he’s diving back into the car.
“Oh my God, Luca!”
“What?” he pants, out of breath from his sprint across the street.
“You know stealing people’s mail is illegal!”
He laughs. “So is breaking and entering, but that didn’t stop you.”
“Yeah, but this is—” I sputter. “It’s afederal offense.”
“It’s fine. I’m just borrowing it.” Luca lifts his T-shirt to pull the mail from his waistband and then shuffles through the pile. He flips past a leaflet that’s addressed toCurrent Residentand a neighborhood bulletin with no address. I’m relieved to see it’s mostly junk mail and we didn’t steal anything important. And then—“Jackpot.”
I stare at the paper in Luca’s hands. It’s nothing important, either, just one of those credit card offers.But the name…
Victoria Jankowski.
My mom’s name is listed in my file as Melanie Jankowski. So Victoria must be a relative. “Her mother, maybe?”
Luca nods. “If Melanie grew up in this monstrosity”—he hitches his chin at the mansion—“then it’s possible her parents still own the place. So, that would make Victoria…” He trails off as his eyes shift from the envelope to mine.
“My grandmother.”
Luca tosses the junk mail over his shoulder into the back seat of his car. “When I peeked in, I didn’t see anyone. Andthere are no cars in the driveway. But it’s only a little after five; a lot of people will still be coming home from work.” He reaches under his seat to pull the lever and slide it back. “Might as well settle in and wait.”
I continue to stare at the house. “It’s just so hard to believe my grandmother might have been here this whole time. Do you think she knew she had a grandchild?”
Luca shrugs. “It’s hard to imagine someone having family and not wanting to even know them. But it happens all the time.”
Since we’re settling in, I lean back in my own seat. “What about you? I met your mom, and she’s clearly involved in your life.”
He barks out a laugh. “Tooinvolved.”
“You haven’t mentioned your dad.” I remember the warmth and chaos of Luca’s childhood home. Ginny and Lorraine and Angelo. But there was no sign or mention of Luca’s dad. Was he at work?
Luca shrugs. “He’s around. I don’t see him much.”
That startles me. “He lives in Pittsburgh?”
Luca nods. “In Bloomfield, actually.”
“But not with your mom?”
“No, they were never married. Like my sister’s ex, my dad was more of a sperm donor than a parent. I still see him in the neighborhood, but I gave up on counting on him a long time ago.” He says it so calmly, like it’s no big deal that his dad hasn’t been involved in his life. I glance up at the house where my grandmother may or may not live. I can’t imagine being so indifferent.
“Couldn’t your mom have asked Uncle Vito to threatento cut off your dad’s hand to motivate him to come around more?”
He smirks. “I’m sure she thought about it. But it’s more fun to let my dad sweat it. Besides, if he doesn’t want to be with us, nobody wants to force him.”
