“Not more than you.”
I could see her biting the inside of her lower lip.
“She was angry that I didn’t tell her I had a girlfriend and that I didn’t invite her to my wedding, but I told her it all happened fast and that we’ll visit her in Milano, maybe for Christmas. It’s months away. I figured that, by then, I could just tell her we had ended it.” I shrugged. It could have been a difficult conversation, but my mother was used to her sons springing all sorts of strange news on her. A tale of a wedding was better than letting her know that another one of her sons had broken the law—again.
June looked away. “At least yours is oceans away. Mine lives a few minutes from here.” She brought her gaze back to me. “Lucky for me, she doesn’t drive. Her back is bad, so she doesn’t take long walks and wouldn’t just drop by unannounced. And my sisters …” She breathed out. The daylight from the window slanted on her face. She had creases at the corners of her eyes, though her skin, other than that, was radiantly smooth, and she had no makeup on. June breathed out again, probably stifling a sigh.
I lifted my hand, instinctively wanting to put it on her shoulder in a comforting gesture—I could almostfeelthe round, delicate joint beneath the soft fabric of her top—but I dropped my hand instead.
“Just let me know what you tell people so I can corroborate it.”
“Of course.” June gathered herself once again and strode toward the living room and the front door that was still ajar. “Text or call me if you need anything, I prefer you don’t … walk into the shop.” She seemed a little uncomfortable at that last part.
She was about to exit, but then, half-pivoting toward me, added, “How come your English is so good?”
“No dubbing.” At the confused look on her face, I explained, “Growing up, I watched American and British movies and series with subtitles and no dubbing. They’re big on dubbing in Italy. I preferred the original; it helped me escape.”
“Escape?”
“Reality.”
“Oh.” From the alarmed expression that briefly crossed her face, I figured that Jerry had told her about my past in detail and that she had originally thought I meant escaping jail.
“It was my best subject at school.” I didn’t add that I had dropped out before the eleventh grade, or junior year as she would call it. “And all the tutorials on YouTube are in English.” I mimicked holding a guitar in my empty hands.
June nodded, her expression inscrutable.
“Linguistics and guitars, two things I excel in,” I added when she just continued to look at me. “And charming women,” Luigi had once added. But this almost-expressionless woman seemed uncharmable.
“Okay. Um, if you’re hungry, there’s stuff in the fridge.” She gestured with her chin toward the kitchen then mumbled a goodbye and walked out.
“I’ll make myself at home, thanks,” I called after her.
But when I opened her fridge, it smelled like a mossy forest and contained things you could probably find in one.
It was time to get to know the local grocery shop.
11
June
“Come in again next week, we’ll have more flavors.” I handed Mr. Geerling the logoed, recycled cloth tote.
Rio closed the door after another customer and flipped the sign on it fromOpentoClosed.
I waited for her at the counter, ultra-aware of every sound coming from the shop’s ceiling, which was my apartment’s floor.
“I have to tell you something,” I began, feeling my heart pushing against my ribs. Uttering these things to someone outside the deal’s circle felt like sending a test balloon up to the sky and hoping it wouldn’t explode.
Rio tilted her head in awhat’s going on.
I felt my face burning red. No poker face would save me here.
Before she could make a peep, I quickly blurted, “I decided to rent the space at the back to this guy that Jerry said could use it for some kind of woodwork workshop.”
“Woodwork?”
“Guitars, something.” I made a couldn’t-care-less face and shrugged. “He’s also going to stay upstairs for a few days, just until he sets things up because he’s usually up in San Francisco, and—” I cringed inwardly while uttering the words.
