Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Fuck. I shouldn’t have come. Obviously.
“Right, Mateo?” his mother asks me.
I hesitate.
I glance at Florian.
What does he want me to say? I want to say exactly what will makehim most happy.
He gives me a look that says, ‘you started this by coming,’ and I smile and give him a look back that says ‘fine.’
His face pales. I touch his thigh. “Of course I am coming back. Florian needs a massage. He never wants me to give one.”
“I don’t want to make my boyfriend work.”
I shrug. “You can put the dishes away.”
He snorts. “Very well.”
I attack my chicken piccata with pleasure.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Florian
Mateo is here.
He shouldn’t be here. I told him not to join us.
But he is all the same.
I should not feel as relieved as I do. Mateo is speaking about massages.
Mama asks Mateo about how he came to Boston, and I listen as Mateo explains that he moved here a year ago when Gina got into her PhD program. He’d been working at a hotel on Mount Wachusett, near Worcester, before then, and had enjoyed working with the skiers and other athletes.
“Massage therapists can work anywhere,” he explains.
“Well, that will come in useful,” Papa says, looking at me.
I take a large sip of water.
“Professors don’t have that same freedom,” Papa explains.
“You like Munich,” I remind him.
“I do,” Papa admits. “I mean, I could have been placed in Braunschweig. What would have happened then?”
Mama squeals, then elbows him.
Papa elbows her back, then he kisses her cheek. “I’m sorry, Schatz.”
Mama draws back. “I am from Braunschweig,” she explains to Mateo.
“Is it awful?”
“No, it is not.” She frowns. “But it is not as nice as Munich.”
