“I’m okay,” I told him, though why I felt the need to lie to my dog about my mental state was beyond me.
I dropped my snow pants and went to shower. I scrubbed myself under the hot water until my skin turned red. Afterward, I pulled on clothes without really looking at them and braided my hair because I didn’t have the bandwidth for anything else. Then I was out the door, tugging on my heavy coat as I went. I blasted the heat in the truck while the dogs went pee-poop. It was still frigid in the cab when I pulled out onto the road, but I didn’t have the patience to wait any longer.
I forced myself to drive the speed limit to Sophia and Jacob’s place: a decent-sized colonial farmhouse down in the valley closer to town.Snowmen dotted their yard – a sign that the boys had taken full advantage of their recent snow days.
Sophia met me at the door. She wore leggings and a large sweater that swamped her small frame. Her thick, curly hair fell loose around her in perfect ringlets that I’d always been covetous of. Even with copious amounts of hairspray, I could never achieve them. She looked polished and put together. I felt like shit in comparison, guilt at letting myself fall apart warring for dominance with all the other emotions battling it out in the gladiatorial arena that had become my mind.
She reached out and hugged me. “Hi.”
“Hi. Thanks again for this.”
We pulled apart, and she handed me a couple of towels to clean the dogs off with. The second they were free, they raced past us in search of my nephews.
“You look like hell,” she said.
I wasn’t insulted. I needed her bluntness right now. “I feel like hell.”
Evan came around the corner of the hallway, Fred hot on his heels. “Auntie Ella?” He beamed when he caught sight of me, then started running.
I scooped him up and hugged him to me, trying to keep my tears at bay.
“Are you sick?” he asked when I set him down. “You don’t look good.”
“Not sick,” I said. “Just sad.”
He frowned for a second, staring up at me, and then his expression brightened, as though he’d just had a great idea. He turned and raced upstairs.
“What’s he doing?” I asked his mom.
Sofia shrugged.
He came back holding his teddy bear and offered it up to me. “Mr. Bear always makes me feel better when I’m sad.”
Oh, Jesus.
I reached out and took it. Moisture gathered in my eyes, threatening to spill over. “Thank you so much, Evan.”
Sofia leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You are so sweet to share Mr. Bear with Auntie Ella.”
He kissed her back, then turned and headed into the house.
“Come on. I have ice cream,” she told me.
We walked down the long hallway to the kitchen, pausing by the living room so I could say hi to Michael, who sprawled out on the floor, playing with Sam, while his brother and Fred crowded together in an armchair watching cartoons.
Sofia’s phone rang from the kitchen island as she pulled the freezer open. She turned to pick it up and answered in Italian. It must have been her mother. She was the only person I’d heard her speak nothing but Italian to. With her sisters, it was usually a mix of Italian and English. With her dad, straight English.
They chatted for several minutes while Sofia found bowls and spoons for the two of us and then scooped us out healthy dollops of Cherry Garcia.
“How’s Ma Trocci?” I asked after she hung up.
“Better now that Bernadetta is back at home to help with the bills.”
“She’s your youngest sister, right? The math whiz?”
Sophia nodded. “The place she interned with just offered her a job. It’s some high-end wealth management firm in Boston, so she should be able to start making some headway in her student debt.”
“I thought she had all those scholarships.”
