Page 75 of Here to Stay
“I don’t want to be the pathetic girlfriend who gets left behind again. Or worse, the one that’s not worth a change of plans.”
Alba sat up then and hugged me tight. Her voice was fierce when she whispered in my ear. “Stop that shit. You have never been pathetic. Your ex is just a scrub who never deserved you and I hope that chick wised up and is cheating on him with half his firm as we speak.”
I laughed at that and then sighed, sinking into my friend’s strong embrace.
“If Rocco is any kind of man, he’ll know that you’re not only worth keeping, he’ll know you’re worth sacrificing everything for. Hell, I’d snatch you up if I didn’t know how gross you get when you have a cold.”
I let go and shoved her gently. “Stop making me laugh.”
“Dude, I’m still not fully recovered from when you used old shirts for tissues that time.” She shuddered and touched my face. “Lita, you need to be where you’re happy. New York will always be here if you want to come back. And those of us who can’t live without your whiny ass will always be there no matter where you go, babe.”
I nodded, still laughing as I slid off the bed. “Thanks, Albita.”
As we left the room and made our way downstairs, I considered Alba’s words. The problem was my dream job was in Dallas and my dream man was going back to New York. No matter what I chose, I would end up missing something that right now felt essential.
Rocco
I stood at the entrance to my parents’ house and felt like my bones were trying to shrink themselves. Like they knew that to survive the next few hours without losing my temper, I’d have to make myself invisible. It was a rainy and gloomy Christmas Day, no snow, but overcast. I looked around the porch of their little single-family and it made me so fucking sad. The front door was chipped and there was a piece of plywood nailed to the bottom covering up a hole. The yard was scraggly and overgrown. Nothing about this place seemed inviting or warm.
It never had been.
I shuddered at the idea of my little niece trying to play in this place, growing up around my parents and their drinking. I heard her voice inside calling for Sofia, such a happy noise in all this desolation. I rang the bell, determined to make it through this dinner and help make it a good Christmas for Blue and my sister.
After a moment, the door opened and my father stood in the dim light. His face so much like mine, same chin and nose. His hair a shade lighter and now streaked with gray, but still so similar. I was always surprised to find that he was still imposing, even with all the years of hard drinking and the ever-present bitterness he carried around.
“Pop.”
His face hardened at my greeting. “I thought you wouldn’t show. That you sent your fancy catering and wouldn’t even bother coming to see your mother.”
Just his voice made my pulse race. I tried hard to relax. Remember that I could not control what my father did, but I could choose how I reacted to him.
I smiled and lifted a shopping bag with the things I’d brought for everyone. “Merry Christmas. I brought Mom’s cookies.”
He blinked, not sure how to react to my not taking the bait. I was not going to push my way into the house, so we were just standing there staring at each other when Sofia came up to the door, carrying Blue in her arms. My niece was dressed in one of the cute dresses Julia helped me pick out for her.
“Rocco! You’re here.” She waved her hand and looked at our father, who was still not moving. “Come in.”
I walked inside with Blue perched on my arm and saw my mother in her usual spot in front of the TV. She was dressed in a red pantsuit and her hair was combed back into a bun. She even had some makeup on, but she looked old.
“Ma.” She looked up at me and her eyes were glassy, not completely focused. I noticed she was gripping a glass of what looked like ginger ale, but was most likely a Seven and Seven.
“Rocco, you’re here.” I put the baby down on a blanket that was covered with some toys and took my parka off before going over to give her a hug. She smelled like cigarettes, but also like the lavender lotion she always used. I closed my eyes and felt her skinny frame. My mother had a tough life, I knew that. But I could only be responsible for my own life. I could no longer take on my mother and father’s choices. I didn’t even have it in me to judge her.
“It’s good to see you, Ma,” I said, trying to genuinely smile for her. Show her I could still see all of her, not just what was left after forty years of surviving my father’s anger.
“You too, baby. It was so nice of you to get dinner.” She rolled her eyes and waved a hand around the living room. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two. Sofia came and cleaned today and you got dinner. My kids turned out good despite everything.” The regret in her voice just then, that’s what kept me tethered to this place.
My father walked into the kitchen, and from the living room I could see him preparing another drink for himself from the handle of Seagram’s he had on the counter. I bet he’d opened that this morning and it was almost half-empty.
“Quit acting like he did some big thing, Marie. He pressed three buttons on that phone of his. Least he could do is pay for a meal, since he doesn’t do a damn thing to help us otherwise.”
My shoulders tensed, but I ignored my father’s taunts. This was what he did—as soon as I walked through that door, everything out of his mouth was intended to get a rise out of me.
Sofia walked by my father, her hands full with a pan of lasagna. “Leave him alone, Billy. Rocco’s a good brother and a great uncle to Blue.”
His eyes were practically slits as he looked at me from the kitchen sucking on his drink. Sofia came back from the dining room and sat on the couch next to me. She reached over to tap our mother on the leg. “Ma, did you see what Rocco brought you?” she asked, pulling out the Italian wedding cookies I’d gotten for her.
My mother took her eyes off the TV for a minute and focused on the box, then looked at me. “You got my cookies.” She turned her head toward where my dad was standing. “Did you see that, Billy? Rocco got the cookies, from Joe’s. My son always takes care of me.” That was a jab at my dad, and one he would not take well.
