“They can’t wait to meet you,” said Cord, pulling a cigarette he’d bought at the Galaxy Bar from his robe pocket.
“Charlotte can’t wait to meet me?” said Giovanni.
“That’s what I said,” said Cord, using a matchbook from Shells to light up. The smoke entered his lungs and made him even more languid.
“So they know,” said Giovanni, with wonderment. “They know who you are.”
“Yup,” said Cord.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Rome today, right?”
“Yes,” said Cord, sitting down in his deck chair, resting his feet on the glass partition that kept him from falling overboard. “I believe our tour is called ‘Panoramic Rome by Motor Coach.’ We drive by all the glories of the city, pause for photos, then motor on.”
“You don’t even get out of the bus?” screeched Giovanni.
“I don’t believe so, no,” sighed Cord.
“Oh, dear,” said Giovanni.
“Well, Mom’s old,” said Cord. “We’ll do it again someday, you and me.”
“Promise?” said Giovanni. “Promise me Rome?”
“You promisemeRome,” said Cord. “I promise you everything.”
“I love you,” said Giovanni.
“And how I love you,” said Cord. This, at least, was true.
“I’ve got to go,” said Giovanni, a note of something—glee?—in his tone.
“Where?” said Cord. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll never tell!” said Giovanni, sounding shockingly like Charlotte. “Have a good day in Rome, my love!”
“You as well,” said Cord. “Little goofball.”
—
HE SAT ON THEbalcony for a while, watching as the ship approached port. As much as he made fun of the bus tours, the drink specials, the whole “cruising” experience, there was something deeply moving about approaching land from the sea. Cord felt connected to the explorers and soldiers who had done the same. How much more terrifying and exciting their lives had been!
He just wished his two worlds didn’t have to collide. And did they? Did they really? How hard would it be to just keep things divided? With a boozy brain, it seemed possible.
—
CHARLOTTE WAS UNUSUALLY CHEERYat breakfast. “I’m just so happy,” she said. “All my babies, all right here around this table!”
“Oh, Mom,” said Regan, leaning over to envelop Charlotte in a hug. She wore a baseball cap, rumpled sundress, and Teva sandals. Cord narrowed his eyes and looked—really looked—at his sister. Her nose was reddish, her eyes sunk deep in their sockets. She wasn’t well, he could see. He was flooded with worry. Where was Matt?
Charlotte struggled to free herself from Regan’s overlong embrace. She met Cord’s eye for a moment, winking. The wink said, “How silly is Regan?” as if Cord shared his mother’s view that Regan was silly, that a broken marriage was a joke. He didn’t share this view! He was terrified for his sister, heartbroken that her husband was a liar, concerned for his nieces. He wanted to throw Regan over his shoulder and spirit her away, whisk her through museums and order her exotic foods and restore her to the Regan she’d once been, long ago. He wanted to fix her, to fix everything. Instead, he picked up apain au chocolatand shoved it in his mouth.
Lee was tapping at her phone. She’d traded in her leather pants and tube tops for a weirdly demure dress with a Peter Pan collar. Cord’s stomach burned. This was the most time he had spent with his family since childhood. My Lord, he was sick of them.
Cord took his mother’s arm as they filed off the ship, stopping to pose for a photo behind the fake life preserver proclaimingFUN IN CIVITAVECCHIA!Would his mother purchase this photo from the Fun Store on Level Three? Would Cord gaze at it someday, when she was gone? Would this be the photo he took to OfficeMax to blow up and set next to her coffin, or urn or whatever?
