As we parked our bikes, I narrowed my eyes at Scarlett. “This is small?”
Scarlett lifted her hands for a second, then dug in her basket and took out a bag. “Nothing big about this, Fausti. This would’ve happened even if today wasn’t your birthday.” Then she took Mia’s helmet off, but I held her close. She kicked against me, wanting to get down, pointing toward the pool.
She was right. No one was making a big deal out of it. They knew better.
Maggie Beautiful went to take Mia from me, but she whined, turning her head. She didn’t want anyone but me. She knew I’d take her swimming.
Maggie Beautiful laughed. “Mia Beautiful snubbed me for the pool!” Then she ran a hand through Mia’s thick locks of hair, giving her a quick kiss before she could turn away again.
Scarlett helped me swap Mia’s dress for a purple bathing suit, and I took her straight into the water.
Before long, it seemed like the pool was crowded with bodies. Scarlett refused to get in. She knew Mia would want to eat before bed, and she didn’t want to get wet until after Mia was done, so she took pictures from the sidelines.
The water was cool compared to the hot air, and Mia swam until her eyes drooped. Most of the smaller children did, except for Dario’s son Dino, who didn’t care for the feel of it. Scarlett had bought portable cribs for each of the babies, so that when we enjoyed a day of swimming, they could stay close and comfortable as they slept.
Eunice usually sat between them, keeping guard. Lola sat one seat down from her. Tito sat close, too, doing his crossword puzzles.
Scarlett washed Mia off in the outside shower, dressed her in soft pajamas, and took her off to the side to feed her. She was fast asleep in a few seconds.
The party seemed to progress after that. Men threw the football back and forth. Scarlett sat on my lap while I drank a beer, jeering as Guido and Romeo got into a tiff in the pool over the ball. Then, out of nowhere, Mitch dared my wife to do her pool trick.
“Mitch,” I warned.
I didn’t like when she did it. It felt too dangerous to me. She smiled, though, and removed her dress, exposing the bathing suit tucked underneath. More catcalls came from the men in the pool—they were starting to chant her name.
Mitch lifted his hands, grinning. “I should’ve put money on this one.”
“I haven’t had a drop to drink, Fausti,” she said to me. “I can still do it.”
Yeah, but she wasn’t built the same. Her breasts were bigger after having Mia. I was worried they’d throw off her balance.
Before I could stop her, she jumped in, going under, swimming from one side of the pool to another. Her head came up seconds later, then her arms, palms down against the cement. Using the strength of her arms alone, she lifted herself out, and then walked on her hands to the edge of the pool area. In the blink of an eye, she flipped backward until she came to the edge of the pool, where she flipped back in.
My breath was lodged in my throat. She always seemed too close to the edge. It would be too easy to bust her head open. Or worse.
Lola sat up straighter and gasped. A roar of applause spread like wildfire. Mitch whistled. A few hoots echoed. And none of the babies woke up. They were used to this amount of noise. It probably soothed them.
Scarlett popped up out of the depths of the water, smiling. She took a bow, then swam to my side of the pool and came to sit on my lap again.
“Come on.” She nudged me. “Don’t be mad, Fausti.”
I guzzled the rest of my beer, ignoring her. She nudged me with her elbow once more, then came in closer, kissing a trail along my jaw until she came to my ear. “I have something that’ll cheer you up.” She tugged on my ear lobe with her teeth before she removed herself from my lap.
The sizzle of candles being lit met me. Our entire group, except for Eunice and Lola, hovered together, walking to where I sat. If she thought this was going to cheer me up, the backflip must’ve caused her some head trauma.
Not even a mean look could stop this mob. For their own safety, though, they knew better than to sing to me.
Instead, Scarlett held the cake out, one she had baked, and said, “Make a wish,mio angelo.”
Staring at the flames, I wondered for a second what to wish for, or if I could have two.
Maggie Beautiful used to host “birthday parties” for me at all different times of the year, just for the fun of it. “Why not call it rebirth parties?” she used to say. “We all deserve to be celebrated, to be given the chance to rediscover ourselves anytime we choose!”
In her estimation, I needed rebirth a few times a year. I’d refused to make wishes on those cakes, feeling as though they were never truly mine. I had a birthdate, and I was fucking sticking to it.
Glancing up at Scarlett, I blew out the candles and made the wish.
“You can have two wishes, if you want.” She smiled at me. “It’s your birthday.”
