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Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

“ O h my God,” Joni yowled for what had to be the fourth time since we had gotten out of Mass that morning. “Nonna, that was too much food. How am I supposed to wear my new crop top tonight when I have this pasta belly? I look freaking preggers!”

Because my youngest sister was always good for a bit of whining, the rest of us tended to ignore her. That included my grandmother, who was busy cleaning out the manicotti pan on the other side of the kitchen counter.

It was another Sunday meal at the ramshackle house off Arthur Avenue that my grandparents, Mattias and Sofia Zola, had bought in the spring of 1959, when they had barely been married two years. The paint was peeling on the front steps, the oak floors needed to be refinished, and the old fireplace needed its crumbling masonry repaired, but this would always be Grand Central to the Zola clan in more ways than one, particularly since the six of us had come to live here permanently when we were fourteen, eleven, eight, four, one, and six months old. Only Joni and Marie still remained with Nonna as the rest of us had gradually moved out, but we still came most Sundays to enjoy our grandmother’s homestyle cooking after Mass at Our Redeemer.

Today was different only because Nonna was leaving shortly for a friend’s birthday party. Matthew was also gone on his expedition to Italy with the Ice Queen, as Lea had christened her, leaving the rest of us to gossip while Sofia played with her cousins upstairs.

I smiled when someone screamed “READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!” from what sounded like the second floor, reminding me of similar games I played with my sisters when we were about the same age.

“No one said you have to eat four servings of manicotti, Joni,” Marie said, prompting Joni to stick out her tongue. “Just like no one said you had to quit school again. Do you know how embarrassing it is to tell people my sister is a stripper?”

Marie, only ten months older than Joni, could never resist the opportunity to cut her down a notch. It didn’t help that despite being practically twins and sharing a room until just a few years ago, the two of them were about as opposite as it got. Joni was loud, bright, and spoiled with her big gold earrings and long red nails, but a born flirt who could charm a snake out of its skin. Marie, on the other hand, was about as sharp as a thumbtack when she chose to be, but otherwise tended to fade into the background in her glasses and series of floor-length skirts.

The older two of the Zola sisters just rolled their eyes and went back to looking above the mess, the way older sisters do, as Lea nursed her youngest, Baby Lupe, and Kate just swirled her wine around in her glass.

And then there was me, stuck in the middle, both proverbially and geographically. At least at this table.

“No one said you have to be such a horrible shrew,” Joni retorted. “And it’s go-go dancing at a bar, not stripping.”

“Is there even a difference?” Marie haughtily pushed up her glasses, preparing for Joni’s revenge.

“Mind your own business, Mimi. Just because I don’t dress like I’m Amish, you think I’m a slut.”

“If the shoe fits…”

“Can you two stop for one damn second?” I stood and started collecting plates to bring to Kate, who had gotten up to help Nonna clean up. I’d only helped myself to one small serving since dinner with Xavier loomed that night.

“I don’t know why you have to wear these half-shirts anyway,” our grandmother commented wryly in her thick Neapolitan accent as she emerged from the kitchen, patting her well-sprayed helmet of black hair, and adjusting the cuffs of her tracksuit. “Show your belly all over the city, what does it get you? A trail of men to follow you home?”

“Only if I’m lucky,” Joni snarked with a grin my way. “Didn’t I tell you I got a callback for that audition for Chicago , Nonna? They need to see a little body.”

“Did you really?” I asked as I collected her plate. “Joni, that’s amazing!”

My baby sister preened, flipping her tousled waves over her shoulder and making her feather-shaped earrings twirl. She’d been dancing since she was in diapers, and between all the times she’d failed at school, it was the one thing she had ever been really good at. She had wanted to dance on Broadway since I could remember. I was genuinely proud of her.

“Don’t fall,” Marie sneered.

“Don’t be a shut-in,” Joni cut back.

“Don’t be children,” Lea snapped as she lifted Lupe to her shoulder for a burp.

Kate popped over the kitchen counter. “Nonna, the dishes are almost done. We’ll finish up if you need to get to Paulina’s birthday party.”

Nonna nodded. “Sorry I have to leave, but I promised her I would help with the sardines. She never makes them crispy enough.”

“It’s fine, Nonna,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek on my way to the kitchen with the plates. “Enjoy yourself. Tell Paulina I said hello.”

She smiled kindly at me. “My sweetheart. Maybe you should come with me to the party. Paulina has a very handsome grandson, you know.”

I shook my head. “Nonna…”

She shrugged. “I have to try.” Then she leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re the kindest of all my granddaughters, Frances. You deserve a good man to take care of you and my sweet nipote upstairs, eh?”

I swallowed. It was hardly the first time Nonna had tried to set me up—it had been a regular thing since I turned sixteen, though her efforts really jumpstarted once I was pregnant. But this time, it felt different. This time, a glowering pair of blue eyes watched from the back of my mind while she said it. Demanding that I tell her no.

Shoo , I thought, batting the image away. No one has time for you.

“Maybe next time, Nonna,” I said.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” Nonna said. “I’ll be back in time for dinner for Sofia, okay?”

“And you’ll drop her off at school tomorrow?” I pressed, depositing the plates on the counter.

“Don’t worry about a thing.” Nonna dropped a kiss on my forehead. “Yes, Joni will take her to school before her audition, won’t you, cara ?”

Joni’s face squirreled up into a scowl. “Seriously? Nonna, Brooklyn is all the way on the other side of the city. I’ll have to leave super early to get her there on time.”

“What else do you have to do? Curl your hair?” Marie asked, earning a shove.

“She can be late,” I offered. “It’s preschool, not the bar exam. Just drop her off before and take your time.”

“You can borrow my car if you don’t scratch it,” Nonna said. “That’s that. Ciao, my girls!”

And then, with a wave of her hand and the clink of her bracelets, she was gone.

“Okay, good. She’s gone.” Marie watched the door for a few more minutes before turning back to the table. “I have news.”

Immediately, the water at the sink was turned off. Lea looked up from where she was rocking the baby.

“What, did you finally get a life?” Joni cracked.

“Joni, give it a rest!” I snapped as I retook my place at the table. “My kid has better manners than you.” I turned back to Marie. “What’s going on, babe?”

“And why didn’t you want to tell Nonna?” Lea asked as she started to rock Lupe.

Kate wandered back in and sat down, silent but curious.

Marie pushed her glasses up her nose and fidgeted with her napkins. “Well, I got a promotion.”

“Marie, that’s great!” I exclaimed, patting her on the shoulder. “What is it?”

“Thanks, Frankie.” She nodded, flushing slightly in the cheeks. “Yeah. Chelsea—that’s the head cook at Lyon House, the estate where I work—is planning to retire soon. And she told Mrs. Lyon she wants me to train to take her place.”

Lea, Kate, and I all rained congratulations on our wallflower of a sister. Marie had never been one to step out of her comfort zone, more interested in watching and learning than actually taking part in things. She had gotten her current job at the Westchester estate as a maid and kitchen assistant right out of high school only because Nonna insisted that if she wasn’t going to college, she had to work full time and contribute. But other than that, Marie had stayed in her same room, at this same house, essentially doing the same things since she was barely two.

“I didn’t know you were interested in cooking professionally,” I said. “Nonna said she taught you some stuff, but this is a whole new level.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “It is. It’s kind of scary, actually. And I didn’t say anything because, well, it’s going to be a lot. They want me to move up there when I become assistant cook. Sort of permanently.”

“You’re abandoning us?” Joni joked. “Nonna is going to freak!”

“Hush,” Kate chided her. “It’s going to be fine, babe. She’ll understand. She understood when Lea and Fran and I all moved out. She’ll be all right when you leave too.”

“It’s not just that,” Marie said. “They want—” She gulped. “After I’m done training with Chelsea, if it works out, in a year or two, they want to send me to Paris. To culinary school at the Cordon Bleu.”

By the time she was done speaking, her face had turned completely red, like she was overcome herself by the idea. The room turned into a frenzy.

“Paris!” Lea whisper-shrieked, if only to avoid rousing her nearly sleepy daughter. “That’s amazing, Marie!”

“Oh. My. God,” Joni uttered, envy dripping from every syllable.

Kate shook her head with a long whistle. “You lucky bitch. Can I come too?”

I just sat there, smiling at my sister while trying and failing to untie the jealous knot in my gut.

Paris. London. Europe. At one point, it had been everything I’d wanted, to see the places that had inspired my favorite pieces of literature. I’d wanted to jump into traveling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Marie looked absolutely terrified at the idea. Could she not see how blessed she was?

“Culinary school,” I murmured. “Wow. Oh, man, you should talk to Xa—” I cut myself off, realizing what I had almost said.

“Talk to who?” Joni pressed curiously, her hoop earrings swinging as she turned.

“Ah, no one,” I replied, all the while ducking Kate’s sharp gaze. “A friend, but he’s not around anymore.”

“Oh, bummer,” Marie said. “I could have used a friend in France.”

“Well, it’s not for two years, you dork,” Joni said. “You have a bit of time to figure out how to make some new ones. Or at least one.”

“Shush!” Marie hissed back.

“What about you?” Lea turned to me, clearly eager to change the course of the conversation. “Tell me something is happening to shake up that boring life of yours, Frankie.”

“Yeah, Frankie,” Joni chimed in. “With Mattie out of the house, are you finally gonna get some action? Have a little party? Let the mice play while the cat’s away?”

“Everyone else shared,” Marie said pointedly.

Four faces quite like mine turned to me expectantly. One of them—Kate’s—bore a knowingly arched brow.

Tell them. I could feel her mentally lecture. We’re your sisters. They should know too.

Maybe it would have been safe. Maybe they wouldn’t have immediately run to Matthew, told our overprotective brother what was going on at his house without him around.

But I knew I couldn’t trust them all to do that.

“Nothing much,” I squeaked, suddenly very interested in mopping up the rest of my sauce with a bit of bread.

“Well, you’re going out tonight,” Joni pointed out. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have to schlep Sof all the way back to Brooklyn in the morning.”

“It’s just a girls’ night,” I fibbed. “Some colleagues from work. I haven’t had a night off in a while, and Nonna said she would babysit, and?—”

I was babbling. I knew it. And every green-eyed woman at the table knew it too. Which meant they knew I was lying. Which meant that unless something else came to my rescue, I wasn’t getting out of this house without an explanation.

But before they could press me more, the loud chimes of Nonna’s doorbell warbled down the hall.

“I’ll get it,” Lea said, jumping up from the table, sleeping baby in one arm.

“It’s probably Tino’s new waiter,” Joni said as she picked at a piece of bread. “He won’t stop asking me out. Like, he’s kind of obsessed.”

Marie muttered something under her breath that sounded like “because you gave him the milk for free,” but I couldn’t quite make it out.

“Well, maybe I’ll leave you to it,” I said, getting ready to stand up.

But then I turned, and we all saw the last person any of us expected.

“Mama?” I said. “Is that you?”

“It’s me,” said my mother as she walked into the room.

“Surprise,” Lea said weakly as she guided the stranger who happened to be our mother into the room. “With both Matthew and Nonna out of the way, I thought I’d take a chance. Mami wanted to see us, so I invited her over.”

“Holy crap,” Kate murmured on my right so only I could hear her.

My heart sank heavy in my chest. What were we supposed to say now?

She was shorter than I remembered. Closer to my size, whereas the rest of my sisters were a bit taller, pulling from our dad’s side of the family. Her nose was wider than mine, but looked a lot like Marie’s, and her hair, which had always been lighter than ours, was almost blond now, pulled back into a practical ponytail at the base of her neck.

Her eyes, though, were what we all shared—every single person at the table had the same bright green emeralds that twinkled when we were happy and seared when we were mad. Hers were just as expressive, if somewhat dulled with time. And maybe substance abuse.

These were all the things I studied and thought about while she explained to us where exactly she had been since we’d seen her last at a party thrown on her family’s side, where she’d fallen off the wagon for what had to be the last time.

That was two years ago. Apparently, she’d gone back to rehab, made it through some kind of transitional living program, and had gotten herself a job at a convenience store in Hunt’s Point. She was living with two other women she’d met in rehab in the same area—a less than ideal part of the Bronx, but one that she could afford.

“So that’s that,” she finished. “I’m sober two full years now. I’m ready to be in my girls’ lives again. Can you ever forgive me?”

She held up her hands and lay them flat on the table. Two fingers were adorned with immense turquoise rings. The others were bare, but all her nails were perfectly done, long, with broad white tips. Vaguely, I wondered how she could afford such a beautiful manicure on a clerk’s wages.

“Oh, Mami ,” Joni said as she got up and warmly embraced our mother. “Of course we forgive you. Everyone deserves second chances, don’t they, girls?”

Or third , I thought. Fourth, fifth, six …

“Absolutely,” Lea said warmly, but she would, considering she was the one who had reconnected with Mom in the first place last year. When she had gotten pregnant with Lupe, she’d started taking the boys to the odd Ortiz family gathering. The rest of us hadn’t had much interest in knowing that side of the family, but I knew things had gone well. Really well, considering she had named Guadalupe after the woman standing here.

“Yeah, they do,” Marie said, for once agreeing with Joni as her eyes shone through her smudged lenses.

Kate, though, remained quiet. I didn’t know what to say either.

Maybe the difference was that we were both old enough to remember what happened, whereas Joni and Marie didn’t. I remembered the look on Nonna’s face when she found out her son was dead, and the blurry-eyed expression on Mom’s mug shot when she was arrested for a DWI and two counts of vehicular manslaughter—one for the other driver, and one for her husband.

I was only Sofia’s age, but I also remembered clearly what it felt like to be told my mother wouldn’t be coming home because she had to serve a five-year sentence at Riker’s. That was when this house became my home. When Nonna and my older sisters became my mother, Matthew and Nonno, my father. When I learned exactly whom in my life I could trust.

And that did not include Guadalupe Ortiz.

“I need to get going,” I told Kate more than anyone. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay, but I really have to leave. Sofia! Mama’s got to go, babe! Come down and give me a hug.”

I left the dining room to meet Sofia as she tramped down the stairs, her cousins following closely behind.

“Bye, munchkin. Remember, Nonna’s putting you to bed tonight, and Aunt Joni is bringing you to school in the morning, okay?”

“Okay, bye, Mama. Oh, who’s that?”

Sofia pointed a chubby finger over my shoulder. I turned to find my mother following me into the foyer, looking up at where Sofia stood on the fourth stair from the bottom.

“Oh. Oh my ,” she whispered. “Is this my baby Sofia?”

Great. She might have asked.

I picked Sofia up and settled her on my hip. At four, she was almost too big for this, but since she was so small, I was able to get away with it for a scant few more months, maybe.

“Sof, this is your grandmother. My mother. Her name is Guadalupe. Mom, this is my daughter, Sofia. You actually met her at that party a few years back. But, um, maybe you don’t remember.” Because you were drunk as a skunk.

Sofia’s blue eyes grew wide. “Guadalupe like Baby Lupe?”

Guadalupe nodded and offered a bright smile, though several of her teeth were stained from years of neglect. “That’s right, baby girl. I’m your abuela . What do you think of that?”

Sofia cocked her head. “What does abuela mean?”

“It means grandma, linda . That’s Spanish too, for ‘pretty.’ My mother was from Puerto Rico, so she taught me Spanish. That means you’re part boricua too, you know? So maybe I can teach you.”

Guadalupe reached out to touch Sofia’s cheek, but my daughter shied into my shoulder.

“Come on,” she said. “Give your abuela a hug, mamita .”

She looked as if she expected me to hand over my child. But I kept her to my side and shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t force her to hug people if she doesn’t want to.”

“Oh come on. I’m not just people. I’m her grandmother. I deserve to hug my granddaughter. Come here, mami .”

Sofia recoiled, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. I turned her away, putting my body between her and Guadalupe.

“I’m sorry,” I said firmly. “Maybe another time.”

“So there will be another time?” My mother brightened just as I realized how I’d backed myself into a corner.

“Um.”

“Please, baby.”

“Mama.” Sofia started to squirm.

I set her down and let her scamper back upstairs to join her cousins, then turned to my mother with a sigh.

“I just miss you,” she said. “I missed a whole life with you. In rehab, we have to take accountability for these things. We say sorry to the people we wronged. Joni and Marie came that day. Lea came later. But you and Matthew and Katie…and sweet little Sofia…I never saw any of you.”

I bit my lip. I wanted to tell her that was because we’d shown up countless times before. That she had already missed the parts of our lives when we needed or wanted her. Now we had to be even more careful because we’d been burned too many times.

A squeal rang out from the top of the stairs, where Sofia was happily playing hide-and-seek with the “hooligan boys,” as Matthew had taught her to call her cousins. She played tough, but I knew on the inside she was just as fragile as anyone. Maybe even more because it was just her and me.

“I’ll think about it,” was all I said. “But right now, I really do have to leave. Enjoy your lunch, Mom.”

“I’ll see you soon, mami !” she called.

But I shut the door without answering. Once again, I didn’t know what to say.

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