“Girl, I would do it again in a second. You’re better off without him.”
A wave of sadness rolls through me. Even though I want to believe she’s right, I’m not sure she is.
“Well, you won’t believe what Nonna’s done now.” I tell Addie about the calendar and the dates. She’s dying laughing on the other end.
“Soph, that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. What if some total psycho shows up? No telling who your aunt Patrice is going to send over.”
I slide off the edge of the tub onto the floor. “I know. This is going to be the worst week and a half of my life. And we had plans for New Year’s Eve! You know I’d rather be there than here.”
“I know. Let’s wait and see how it works out. But Nonna’s probably right. You’ll have your hands too full to have any time left to worry about Griffin.”
I hope so, because right now, I still feel pretty broken inside.
By the time I finish talking to Addie, shower, and dress, Olivia has left the bedroom. I tiptoe down the hall, praying the house is empty.
Papa is at the table by himself, reading the paper and sipping coffee. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“I did, Papa. Where is everyone?” The house is unusually quiet—not that I’m complaining.
“Your nonna has gone to church, and thankfully, no one else has showed yet. Olivia ran home for clothes. She told me to tell you she would be back soon.”
I glance at the whiteboard on the wall below the chart Nonna made. Olivia’s name is printed at the top, and then in her handwriting it says:
I grin at the last line. The temperature has dropped over the weekend, and thankfully, it’s actually starting to feel like Christmas.
I also notice that Uncle Sal’s name is scratched out on the chart, and Uncle Michael’s name is written in all caps beside it.
Papa notices me staring at the calendar. “Have you been to the festival before?” When I shake my head, his smile lights up his face. “You’ll love it. And Olivia will pick out a nice boy. You should have a nice day,” he says.
I fix myself a cup of coffee and refill his. “Don’t you think this whole blind date thing is weird? I mean, who does this?” I sit on the stool next to him.
He laughs. “This is exactly what I would expect from your grandmother. She is such a romantic. And she just wants everyone around her to be happy. Her heart was as broken as yours when she found you on the front steps.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and stare out the kitchen window.
“Have I ever told you how your grandmother and I met?” Papa asks.
He has. In fact, I’ve heard this story so many times I might tell it better than he does.
I smile and turn toward him. “No, sir.” He knows I know this, but he loves telling this story as much as I love hearing it.
He leans back and his eyes glaze over, like he’s gone back in time. “It was Valentine’s Day. I was supposed to take this girl to dinner and then out to the movies.Ocean’s 11was playing…and I’m talking about the original one—not that one with the Clooney fellow. The girl…oh, what was her name…”
Louise.
He snaps his fingers a few times. “Louise!” He seems pleased to have remembered this detail. “Well, Louise came down with the flu just that morning. I wasn’t worried about missing the dinner—in fact, I was glad to save the money. But I had been waiting for that movie for weeks. So I decided to go by myself.”
I love this part.
“So I get my popcorn and find a quiet spot in the back. And then I hear it. A soft sniffling sound. It was dark in the theater, but I grew up with three sisters, so I knew that sound—it was a girl, and she was crying. She was close by, only a few seats away.”
Nonna.
Papa sits up straighter in his chair. “Well, I felt so bad for her. Why would a girl be crying in the movies on Valentine’s Day?”
He pauses, waiting for me to guess the answer.
I shrug, like I don’t know.
