12
Vinnie
“Come closer,”her grandmother says, holding out her hands as we stand a few feet away.“I don’t see so well anymore.”
I don’t know how old the woman is, but her face is weathered like she’s spent most of her life in the sun.There are hints of Bianca’s much younger features in the woman’s face.The big, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a small, delicate nose.
Bianca tightens her grip on my hand as I take a step forward, and I give her a little squeeze, letting her know it’s okay.I’ve taken on way more formidable opponents than the tiny, frail woman in front of me.
“Down a little,” the woman says, wiggling her fingers and motioning for me to leave almost no space between us.
“Oh lordy,” Bianca whispers from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder with a wink and take a knee in front of her grandmother’s legs, releasing Bianca’s hand.
The woman places her hands on my shoulders, working her fingertips into my muscles.“Strong shoulders.”Her hands slide down my biceps, and there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.“Big arms.”
“Yes, ma’am.”I smile, knowing this woman is feeling me up, but I’m okay with it because it’s Bianca’s grandmother.
“What do you do, boy?”
Bianca moves closer, casting a shadow over me.“His name is Vinnie,Abuela.”
Her hands are on my forearms now, kneading my muscles through my suit jacket.“Do you work with your hands?”she asks as she moves her face closer, trying to see my features.
“In a way.”
“A farmer?”she asks, being more direct.
“No, ma’am.I play football.”
She turns my hands over, feeling my palms with two fingers.“Strong hands.”She smiles.“Come closer.I want to see your face, and my old eyes fail me in this light.”
I move forward until my chest presses against her knees, and I raise my face to hers.She cups my cheeks in her hands as she leans forward, almost touching noses with me.“You’re the green-eyed one.”
Word must spread fast in this family, or maybe Bianca’s talked about me with her grandmother.Lord knows, in my family, if Betty knows something, the entire world has the information because the woman is shit at keeping secrets.
“I am.”I can’t wipe the dumb smile off my face knowing someone’s been talking to her grandmother about me.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispers as her fingertips slide to my mouth, outlining the edges of my lips.“The ancestors told me about you.”
I don’t move.Ancestors?Either her age has affected her brain, or she’s talking to spirits.One makes me sad, and the other scares the shit out of me.
When I was fourteen, my friends dared me to go into this tiny mystic shop a couple streets over from the bar.Me being the man, of course, I walked in there without a problem.My head held high, shoulders back, thinking that shit was going to be a breeze and I’d end up with a few laughs.Just like any teenage punk who wanders into a place like that.
Until Bianca’s abuela, I hadn’t thought about the words that woman spoke to me almost a decade ago.
“You will fall madly in love with the brown-eyed girl next door.”
Then, I was pretty sure Margaret Alfonsi was not going to be the future Mrs.Vincent Gallo.She was barely five feet tall but so skinny, her kneecaps looked like weapons.She had buck teeth, which could be adorable on some people, just not her.But the real issue with Margaret wasn’t her face or body—it was her shitty attitude.She was the meanest girl on the street.She had to be, with the way the other kids picked on her.If you said anything to Margaret that seemed even remotely unfriendly, she’d hit you straight in the balls with those bony-ass kneecaps of hers.
“Abuela, don’t scare him.”Bianca places her hand on my shoulder and moves to my side.
I peer up at her with the hint of a smile and cover her hand with mine.“I’m fine, baby, let her speak.”
“You care for my Bianca?”She pulls my face closer before dropping her hands back to my shoulders.
“I do.”
