“What about Mastodon? He could live at the office. He could be an office puppy.”
“Mastodon is a security company, with high-risk clients and military-trained staff… nothing would ever get done if his fluffy butt was sitting around in the staff lounge.”
She sits down on the armchair Nonna used to sit in while she knitted. There’s a noticeable dip in the arms where she used to rest her elbows. The flower pattern has faded. It was once a beautiful cream color, but now it’s dirty and grungy. And it only looks that way because it isn’t Nonna sitting in it.
Pulling myself out of another grief stupor, I reach into my mind for other potential marks for new dog ownerdom. “How’s Izzy holding up?” Maybe she’ll take the furball.
“Lance broke the news to her. She’s in the same state of shock as everyone else. And no, she can’t take the dog. She’s planning a wedding, works full time, and has a kid.”
“I can still ask her.”
“She’s gonna say no.” She turns her head to glance out the window. “Your aunt and uncle have arrived.”
Uncle Giovanni and Aunt Dawn get out of the black SUV. Uncle Gio is going bald and tries to hide it under a fedora. He’s also wearing a long black coat—his typical garb no matter the weather—which is fine in the winter, but it’s June. It makes him look like even more of a cliché.
I expect Aunt Dawn to be a sobbing mess. She’s always the slightly more emotional one. Her hair is in a messy bun. Not in one of those sexy ones my cousins easily pull off, but frazzled, like she got ready in the car. She wears a jacket everywhere, because she never knows how cold the air conditioning is going to be. Today she's wearing a navy-blue North Face jacket she’s had since I was a kid.
Old.
Everything around me is old.
Except for this fucking dog, who leaps to his feet and stands at the door. He’s not barking or growling. Interesting. The windows have dog nose prints all over them.
They walk in the door, and the dog jumps on his hind legs. “Hello there, Mr. Kingston Livingston Snoodle Butt the third.” Uncle Gio scratches behind the dog’s ears. His little cinnamon roll tail curls even more. When he’s done getting pets from Uncle Gio, he bounces over to Aunt Dawn, who gives him a few pets before stepping into the house and scanning the place.
I fully expected waterworks, blotting her eyes and wiping her nose on a ball of tissues she has in her coat. But no. She’s fierce and focused. Why? Jesus, is she already trying to scavenge the place for the best stuff to take? Not cool, Aunt Dawn. I saw Rita do this when Mom and Dad died. She didn’t even look at me, just started taking stuff off the shelves and sticking it in her bag. Rita sucks, but I didn’t expect Aunt Dawn to scavenge.
“Joey didn’t know Nonna had a dog.”
Wow, I’ve some nice tire tracks on my back from the bus Alana threw me under.
Both my aunt and uncle stare at me like my hair is on fire. Uncle Gio shakes his head. “Joey, you need to get your eyes checked.” He slaps me on the shoulder, his comforting smile not reaching his eyes. We’ve buried enough people that nothing should phase us, but that’s never true. Every headstone is a reminder of our crumbling empire. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
Alana and my family all give me the ‘yeah, sure’ face. I don’t believe it myself, either.
Aunt Dawn unzips her jacket and starts digging through a candy dish. When she doesn’t find what she’s searching for, she moves over to the junk drawer in the table I used to bump into when I came home drunk as a teen.
“Should we call Father Michael for a funeral or service?” I don’t like asking the question, but I want to get moving on this. Sitting still feels wrong.
Aunt Dawn slams the drawer shut. “We are not having a funeral.” She pauses and puts her hands on her hips. “Or at least not for a few weeks.”
Even Alana seems shocked by this reaction, as the rest of us share ‘what the fuck is going on’ expressions. Yeah, lots of silent conversations happening with eyebrows in this room.
“Um, my love, we need to have a funeral,” Uncle Gio says.
“No fucking way.” She continues her search, stepping around the couch and opening the drawer in the coffee table. She gets on her knees to get a better view, moving papers around and huffing under her breath. She stands, closing the drawer with her knee, puts her hands on her hips and glances around the room, squinting. “Nonna didn’t die. Or she did, but it wasn’t how she planned: in her sleep or being fucked to death.”
Uncle Gio winces. “That’s my mother.”
“How the hell do you think she became your mother in the first place? There’s only one Virgin Mary, and you’re sure as shit not Jesus.”
She motions to Alana to get up off the chair. Within seconds my aunt is digging through the cushions. “We don’t know what caused the plane to explode. Was it targeted for the Olympians, or if it was purely accidental? But it sure as hell wasn’t what Nonna wanted.”
Alana hovers over her. “And you think it was an attack on the Four Families?”
Aunt Dawn sits in Nonna’s chair, narrowing her eyes as she surveys the room. “I think Nonna was the string holding this family together, but she’s also the weakest link. Losing her will send the family scrabbling to hold on to any power we have. It’s the perfect time to strike.”
