Part 21 (2/2)
”I know.” He climbed out of bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. ”Drive safe. Call me if you have any problems or need anything.”
”Right. Um, okay. 'Bye.” She didn't know what came over her, but she kissed him good-bye, an honest to goodness ”See you later, honey” kiss. Now, a different person would be fine with that, but neither of them were into domestic scenes. Still, it wasn't as if he hadn't kissed her, too.
Focusing on the kiss the whole way to her parents' house helped her keep from overa.n.a.lyzing the symbolism of driving his car. She knew he probably had a lot of cars, literally parking lots full, but still, she'd never dated a guy who let her drive his car.
She parked on the street two houses down from her parents' and took a deep breath before climbing the steps. The door opened before she hit the top.
”Where did you get that car? It's hot. Is it the rebound guy's car?”
”Hi, Annabelle. I'm fine. How are you?”
”You know, busy. I'm making wedding plans and trying to spend time with Johnny, but he's been working a lot. This is his busy season.”
Rosalie pictured Johnny rubbing his hands together with one of his smarmy grins on his face. It was not pretty. The man was so pale that he looked like a corpse. Actually, now that she thought about it, he kind of looked like a cross between Count Dracula and Danny Aiello- only heavier and with bad teeth. ”I didn't realize morticians had busy seasons.”
”Oh, yeah. I swear, they practically pray for a flu epidemic. It's kinda sick when you think about it.”
”Now there's an understatement.”
”Anyway, he says he'll get them all in the end. Everybody dies.”
”And on that happy note, where are Mama and Papa?”
Rosalie set her purse on the table by the door and checked out the hair situation, hoping it had dried on the way over. She'd had the heat blasting. d.a.m.n! She looked like the recipient of a botched home permanent or a poodle way overdo for a trip to the groomer. She had a feeling the day would head downhill from there, which was a scary thought.
”Ma and Aunt Rose are in the kitchen. Johnny and Papa are watching TV.”
”Hockey?” She hung her coat on the hall tree.
”No, synchronized swimming. Of course, hockey. They're watching the pregame stuff; you know, the male version of Oprah.” Oprah.”
They walked through the empty living room and into the dining room. Rosalie gave herself a mental head slap. She should have asked Nick to tape the game for her. ”Yeah, I like the part where Dr. Phil discusses their feelings about the fight in last night's game. Stay tuned for a very special Sports Talk-The Cause of Unnecessary Roughness.”
They pa.s.sed the dining table. There was no food out, but at least it was set.
”Rosalie, is that you?” She heard her mother call from the kitchen.
”Yeah, Ma,” she answered and whispered to Annabelle, ”Are you helping Mama?”
”As little as possible. She's in a mood.”
”There seems to be a lot of that going around.”
”She and Aunt Rose have their heads together, and you know what a nightmare it is when the two of them are in cahoots.”
”Yeah, if only they'd use all that power for good instead of evil.”
Her mother yelled again. ”Rosalie? Come in here. What? I have to do everything myself? I didn't spend eighteen years teaching you to run a house for no reason.” She rushed into the dining room, set the antipasti down, wiped her hands on her ap.r.o.n, and gave Rosalie the once-over. ”You've still got bags under your eyes. You need more sleep. And for Pete's sake, do something with that mop.”
”What does it matter what my hair looks like?”
”What? You need a special occasion to look presentable?”
Rosalie had a bad feeling. Whenever her mother brought up her appearance, there was a reason-one having to do with her lack of a wedding date, a marriage partner, or interest in either. ”Ma? What did you do?”
”Nothing. I did nothing.”
”You tell me what you did, or I'm leaving right now.”
Mama turned and went back into the kitchen. Rosalie followed, with Annabelle on her heels. G.o.d forbid Annabelle should miss the show.
Mama checked the roast in the oven. ”Come. Time to eat If we don't sit down, my roast is going to be overcooked.”
”I'm not moving until you tell me what is going on.”
Mama did the breast-pounding thing again and said a prayer to the Virgin Mother under her breath. Aunt Rose arrived carrying an empty beer bottle. She must have been upstairs in the den telling Papa and Johnny to come down.
She looked at Mama, then at Rosalie. ”What happened? Someone die?”
Annabelle got a winegla.s.s, filled it, and leaned against the counter. ”Not yet, but there's still time. Mama was just going to tell Rosalie that Joey Manetti is coming to dinner.”
Before Rosalie could lay into Mama, Papa came in. ”What's going on here? Rose told me supper's ready. There's no food on the table. What am I to eat? Plastic?”
Annabelle laughed. ”There's enough of it out there. The tablecloth, the seat covers...”
Rosalie looked at Mama and then at Papa. She couldn't decide which one she wanted to strangle first. ”Hi, Pop. What's new?” He was waiting for his kiss. He wasn't going to get one.
The doorbell rang. Mama had the dish towel wrung tight between her hands. ”That's Joey. Annabelle, get the door and keep your mouth shut. Rosalie, you be nice to Joey. He's a guest.”
Annabelle grumbled about always missing all the good stuff and stalked off. Rosalie took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice down. ”Mama, how dare you invite Joey over. You know I'm seeing someone else.”
Papa looked at Mama. ”Maria?”
”A cafone. cafone. You're seeing an animal.” You're seeing an animal.”
”I'm seeing a nice man who treats me well and respects what I do, unlike Joey. He even takes me out to nice places. As a matter of fact, Thursday night he took me to Pane e Vino in Nolita. You and Papa should go when Pop isn't too busy... working.”
Papa's eyes bulged. Blood drained from his face. He grabbed the chair beside him. Rosalie wondered if he was going to fall over. That might have gotten her out of dinner, especially if he'd hit his head on the corner of the table and required st.i.tches.
Mama was too busy wringing her hands to notice Papa's shock. Who would have thought olive skin could change color so quickly? Papa turned the color of that grayish stuff Rosalie used to fill nail holes in the wall. It was probably a good thing Mama was stewing in her own juices. If she'd seen him, she'd have called 911. He looked about ready to pa.s.s out, but Rosalie couldn't summon any pity. The way she looked at it, he was lucky Nick had kept her from going after him with the champagne bottle.
Aunt Rose didn't miss a thing, though she kept her mouth shut, which, when Rosalie thought about it, was even scarier than if she'd screamed and smacked someone upside the head. She surveyed the situation and, as usual, took charge. They didn't call her 'The Colonel” for nothing.
”Maria, you go make nice with Joey. I don't know what you were thinking inviting him, but now we have to make the best of it.”
Mama shot one last scathing look at Rosalie and rushed out of the room.
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