He kissed my cheek and returned my embrace. ‘Thanks, Mom. Dad. Thanks for coming. I’m just so incredibly excited.’
‘As you should be. It’s quite an accomplishment for an amateur.’
His girlfriend, who had stayed silent up until this point, finally said hello. ‘Jeff, Cristina … how are you?’
I greeted her with a small hug and a kiss to the cheek, but if I was being honest, I had to admit that Karen and I weren’t terribly close. As much as I wished the opposite were the case, we had never truly warmed to each other.
In the beginning, much effort had been made, at least on my part, but privately (and only to Jeff), I had taken to calling her ‘the ice queen’.
She seemed to make Greg happy, but there’s something about her cool, calm and calculated exterior that I can’t get around. It not that she is emotionless, but something in the way she always seems to be thinking of her next move, or sizing a situation up and trying to determine how it could be used to her advantage.
There was a lack of loving spontaneity about her, and maybe that’s what I didn’t understand. Greg, Jeff and I had always been a close-knit family, but it’s not that I was one of those mothers who was against adding another to our group, it was that Karen’s inclusion to our family felt forced. Like oil and water, they simply didn’t mix.
At the same time, Karen and Greg had been together for a couple of years. So clearly there was something about the relationship that worked, and maybe I should butt out.
Regardless, I just want my son to be happy. He’s such a loving, thoughtful and creative man, and I know that his father and I raised him well. He’s a definite catch and I suppose I’d always hoped that he would have a woman in his life who would not only appreciate him, but also complement him, in thought, desires and imagination.
‘Karen, you look lovely tonight,’ I said with a smile, taking in her chic black cocktail dress, her flawless complexion, perfect red lips and expertly coiffed blonde hair.
Indeed, she was beautiful, stunning even. She was the type of woman that men and women alike would stop to stare at. She was always so well put together, never a hair out of place, and maybe that was part of it, too. She wore her beauty like a shield, like a piece of armour. There was nothing vulnerable about her, nothing ever amiss. A woman like her would never break a heel while walking down Fifth Avenue. She would never trip over a kerb while daydreaming, absentmindedly crash into a stranger or slip on a patch of ice. In the winter, there would never be a salt stain on an expensive pair of boots, and she would never have to deal with windblown hair. That was just the type of person Karen was, and I had to admit, I had a hard time relating to her.
After all, I was a woman who regularly ran into things, who tripped and who sometimes felt frazzled. I found that some of the best things in life happened when you accidentally bumped into them.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked evenly. I smiled, feeling as if she was appraising me under the cool stare.
‘Well, my hair hasn’t fallen out yet, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time,’ I said, chuckling. ‘I’m going to have to invest in scarves, I suppose.’
‘Mom, don’t joke about such stuff,’ Greg said.
‘Oh honey, if I can’t laugh at myself, then who can I laugh at?’ I offered, patting his arm.
Karen continued to look at me. ‘I have to admit that you are taking it all very well.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s a part of life. You never know what you are going to get, you just have to be strong enough to deal with it. Keep a positive attitude and have a little faith. I was listening to Springsteen earlier today, and I think “Thunder Road” could be my theme song. The bit where he sings about showing “a little faith, there’s magic in the night. You ain’t a beauty, but hey you’re all right”.’ I smiled. ‘I like that idea.’
Jeff pulled me close. ‘You’ll always be a beauty. Hair or not.’
‘Well, faith might be fine,’ Karen said, ‘but you certainly can’t trust magic to offer you a cure.’
‘Karen … ’ Greg looked horrified.
I simply nodded. ‘I disagree actually. I have read that those people who are surrounded by love, compassion and the positive attitude of others-while also believing in their own ability to heal, or having a type of dedication to a greater energy, be it karma, God, magic, whatever-have a surprising survival rate. Hence, I choose to make sure my interests in this area are equally balanced.’
Karen said nothing and Jeff quickly moved to change the subject. ‘Greg, your mother and I were just commenting that this gallery reminded us an awful lot of a place we visited in Florence. What was the name of the store?’
‘Corna Fiorentine’ I exclaimed, suddenly remembering out of the blue.
Greg smiled. ‘Well, the owner is from Florence. Maybe he knows it. Hold on, let me introduce you.’
Greg signalled to a man standing across the room in conversation with some of the other guests. He was quite handsome, and he knew it. He sauntered over to us, and I could imagine him quite at home in Florence, wearing tight black jeans or maybe even leather pants.
‘Gennaro, meet my parents, Jeff and Cristina Matthews. And you already know Karen. Mom, Dad, this is Gennaro del Vecchio, the owner of the gallery.’
Gennaro took my hand and placed a kiss upon it. ‘Ah, surely you cannot be Greg’s mother, you look too young … surely his sister? I will never believe that you birthed this friend of mine.’
Leave it to an Italian Romeo to talk about ‘birthing’ within mere seconds of meeting a woman. I waved a hand and blushed. ‘Stop, I’m old enough to be your mother.’
‘We actually were just talking, about a store that my parents visited in Florence. What was the name of it again, Mom?’
