I glanced down at the twins, sleeping in their seats.All fine there.Watching where my eyes had gone, Peter checked on them, too.
Brando, Paul, and Mary took their cupcakes into the other room. Paul wanted to show Brando some card game he had learned how to play. Peter stayed with me. He began to wash the sink out while I cleaned the counters. We were silent for a while, working in comfortable silence, and then he cleared his throat.
“Aunt Scarlett?” he whispered.
“Yes?” I stopped mid-swipe to give him my undivided attention.
He stared at the sink as though it might hold some answer he couldn’t figure out on his own. His thoughts were strong in his fierce eyes, but the tremble of his lip told me he needed a moment to compose himself.
He cleared his throat once more. “My Dad—” He hesitated. “He was good to us, you know? He did everything a father should do. But, ah, between him and Ma, it was sometimes rough. I don’t know what I’m trying to say… I just. If you hear from him, please tell him to come home.”
Mitch. He wanted Mitch. Though he started off speaking of Mick. I took his hand and squeezed. “I promise,” I said. “I will.”
No matter how old he was, I brought him to me and hugged him. Violet had nothing to give, her heart and soul depleted, and I could see in all of their eyes that in some ways they felt abandoned. Peter had stepped forward and took on the role of mother and father and uncle—three steadies that in the course of one night had been ripped from them.
“Time,” I whispered to him. “It’s just going to take a little time.”
The shrill ring of the phone ripped him out of my arms, and he looked at it as though it might come to life and explode in our faces. I remembered that all too well—the fear of not knowing if the next second another catastrophe was going to wake you up in the middle of the night, another loved one gone.
His eyes glanced at the clock. The reflection of his thoughts was so clear, like looking through clean water. He estimated the time his mother had been gone and when he felt she should be back.
“You going to answer that, Aunt Scarlett? Or should I…?”
“Yes,” I said, shaking out of my own thoughts. “I am.”
It made me nervous, too. Rarely did we get a call on our home phone. Only when those closest to us couldn’t get in touch with us did they call that number. Then again, that gave me comfort. It was probably a telemarketer.
Wrong.
Peter looked on. The fierce set of his face was so hard that he seemed near cracking. I waved him off, whispering my reply, “Doctor’s office for me. I forgot my appointment.”
“Are you okay?” he whispered back.
I nodded, giving him thumbs up, hoping he didn’t notice the falseness behind it.“Just forgot.”
It was a small lie, one that I felt guilty for after Peter whispered this to Brando, who had come to investigate the situation. Whether he saw my face or felt something was off, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, though. Sometimes at night I felt Brando’s finger underneath my nose, to make sure I was still breathing. He claimed that I had been sleeping too hard.
“Mrs. Fausti? Are you still there?”
“Yes. I, ah, I am. Can you repeat that again?”
“Oh. Yes. Sure.” The woman’s words seemed to blur after that, except for the neon ones.Recall. Not working. You need to come in to take a test to be sure.
“Yes, I can do that. Tomorrow. What time?”
She gave me the information, and I didn’t even bother to write it down. I’d never forget it.
“Tell me,” Brando said, frowning at me.
I waved a hand, forcing my legs to move. “Doctor’s appointment. It slipped my mind and I missed it.”
There was no way to tell him. Couldn’t.This.This would do him in.If.
Some things are better left unsaid, I thought,until we know for certain that they’re true.
* * *
Brando didn’t believe that all was fine. He didn’t bring it up again, but this was not the end of it. He hardly ate dinner, blaming it on an upset stomach.
