“I know what you’re asking.”
“Then answer.”
I’m looking at the potato. The peel is coming off in one long jagged curl and I keep going because the alternative is looking at my sisters.
“I like him.”
A beat. Not big, but real. Jackie’s mouth doesn’t move. Gina sets down the spoon she picked up for no reason. Nicole, for the first time since I walked in, looks up from the onions. Her eyes are red from the cutting, and she doesn’t wipe them.
Then they all start at once. Jackie wants to know how long. Gina wants to know who else knows. Ma gets there first with the wooden spoon in the air, which is how Ma stops a kitchen.
“One at a time. Jackie first.”
“Why?” Gina asks.
“Because I said so. Jackie, go.”
Jackie accepts it with a small nod. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since September.”
“When in September?”
“When I met him.”
“When you met him like when you shook his hand?” Gina says, drawing it out, “or when you shook something else?”
“Gina!” Ma swats at her with her dishtowel.
“What? He’s being cagey about the timeline.”
“Don’t make me say it in Ma’s kitchen.”
“In my kitchen you can say whatever you want, Matteo. Say it,” Ma adds, not helping me at all.
“Ma.” But she nods her head for me to answer. I am not getting out of this. “We sort of met before we officially met. Okay?”
Gina puts her wine glass on the counter and does not pick it back up. “Oh. Oh. Ma, do you understand?”
“I understand, Gina,” Ma says without turning.
“They hooked up,” Nicole announces to the onions.
“They hooked up,” Gina repeats, because Gina wants to make sure the people on the next street over hear.
“He hooked up with his trainer,” Jackie says slowly, piecing it together, “and then?”
“And then he was my trainer.”
“And what happened?”
“Nothing happened. He’s my trainer.”
Jackie plants both hands flat on the island and leans in. “Matteo, you are being an idiot.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” She’s counting on her fingers like I don’t know how many four is.
