Page 39 of Love at Teamsgiving
What is this sorcery?
Miguel, eyebrows pinched together, nods subtly in my direction, apparently reading my mind again.
“Is there something in the Cobbiton water?” I whisper.
“Their behavior is highly suspect.”
“Peppino is my only baby not in a serious relationship,” Carlotta laments, cupping his cheeks with what turns into a strong grip.
“Joey did not meet a girl when we were last in Canada,” Miguel says.
“I did so. We’ve been messaging,” Joey calls from the living area where he and his father sneakily watch soccer with the sound off.
Carlotta’s hand still cups her son’s face and I brace myself in case she squeezes or slaps his cheek. Again, as mentioned, she’s fiery.
He gently removes his mother’s palm before edging closer to me as if I’m going to protect him.
Charlie, the second youngest, says, “Mikey is in a serious relationship.”
I’ve never seen a porcupine in real life, but suddenly feel like my skin is covered in quills by the way that comment makes me bristle.
“With hockey.” Charlie laughs in the obnoxious way that only a little brother can. Joey lunges over the reclining chair and gives him a high five.
Miguel ruffles his hair with a little more force than he’d patted Purr-t Reynolds. Yeah, I took the liberty of renaming the cat. It’s far more clever.
As if coming out of a trance, I shake off the last minute of conversation. Why would it bother me if Miguel is in a relationship? I don’t necessarily care whether he’s happy, but it’s impossible not to notice that he’s dated a lot of women, at least according to social media. It’s none of my business. But the notion of a second chance? No way.
Better rip off the bandage now if, for some reason, they are getting their hopes up.
I say, “Mama, we should get going.”
“No, sit down. Eat. Carlotta made you a plate, too.”
“I ate at the caterers already.”
She gives me a sternmom lookthat says I won’t be getting out of here without eating at least one meatball, so I take a seat.
Miguel sticks his tongue out at me as if gloating that I’m the one who got in trouble. I consider tossing a piece of garlic bread at him.
Mr. Cruz jumps from his easy chair when someone must’ve scored a goal. Realizing he drew attention to himself, he quickly changes the channel to hockey highlights.
“Pop, I know you’re watching soccer. It’s okay to like it better than hockey.” The slight dip in Miguel’s voice tells me that it’s not entirely okay. Maybe he wants his family to be all in with his career the same way that he’s all in with them.
Carlotta sets out a veritable feast. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m already stuffed. Thankfully, Joey and Charlie chip in with their hearty appetites, even though it would seem they recently ate pizza.
While our surroundings are completely different than the apartment on Henry Street, the company isn’t. Sure, there are more white hairs, a few more wrinkles, and a strange concordance between Carlotta and Mom, but there was a honeymoon period from when Miguel and I announced our engagement and then broke it off. How those bookend events went is a story for another time. However, right now it feels a lot like peacetime.
After eating one meatball, okay, fine, two, I tell them about the three-course meal we had at Rae of Bite catering. I’m about to describe the appetizers we also sampled, but my mother interrupts by whispering to Carlotta.
I go quiet, tuning my ears because this is odd behavior. “Juniper might be watching her figure so she can still fit in the wedding dress. It’s been fourteen months.”
I gasp and am about to defend myself when I bypass her comment about my figure and land on the one about the wedding dress.
My mother shrugs. “I noticed you packed it during the move. Supposed you were hoping you’d have another chance to wear it.”
Nostrils flared, I’m ready to rain fire and then storm out the door, but the rental car isn’t here and we’re way out in the country.
Mom folds her hands on the table. “We have been discussing matters.”
