Confusion clouded Gio’s expression. With his round black hat propped proudly on his balding head, he looked like a train conductor. “Doctors. Who goes to doctors?”
“Normal people,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Bah!” Papi finally spoke up. “We are Italian.” He thrust his fist against his chest as if that proved his heritage, which, in a way, it did. “We are healthy, virile, men!”
“More wine?” Gio poured a few more generous glasses as they all slowly passed them around.
The shop was still dead.
Clearly they weren’t sick if they were drinking and offended at the notion of even seeing a doctor.
“You know what you guys need?” I sat back down. “You need a hobby. One that doesn’t involve my love life.”
“But you could learn to love Nico!” Gio spread his arms wide. “Yes?”
“No!” I argued. “I don’t even know Nico!”
“Of course you do!” Gio said as my uncles joined in laughter. “You used to play together as children.”
I gave them my best blank expression. “Then by all means, we shall be married at once! I mean, we played together so…”
My sarcasm was completely lost on them as they giddily nodded their heads in agreement.
Groaning, I covered my face with my hands. “I’m not marrying Nico.”
“He will be so disappointed.” Papi clicked his tongue. “His mother was elated to get him off her hands.”
“And into mine?” Do not yell at your uncles. Nice, nice, nice. I gripped the sides of the wooden chair so hard I was afraid it was going to crack. “Are you guys insane?”
“We would not know.” Gio laughed. “We do not go to doctors, remember?”
“Impossible,” I grumbled under my breath. “No.” I stood. “My answer is no.”
Sal hunched over even more. Oh, dear Lord. “My arm.”
“No!” I fought the urge to smile. “Stop it! Your arm is just fine. Sal! I mean it, stop pretending like you’re hurt. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.” He put on a good show of shaking his wine glass as he lifted it to his lips. “Uh huh, careful not to spill any of that wine, Sal.”
Gio made a cross over his chest as if the very idea was a sin against the church.
“Fix this.” I held up my hands. “I love you all, but… you need to ask me before you start finding me strange men and engaging me to them! And announcing parties and—”
“Don’t forget putting it in the newspaper,” Papi coughed out.
Groaning, I closed my eyes and managed to take a few soothing breaths. “Don’t suppose you’ll share that wine?”
“No.” They said in unison while Sal quickly swiped it from the table and hid it in his coat.
“Nice.” I nodded. “Real nice, Sal, you used your bad hand.”
He switched the wine back to his other hand muttering, “Damn it,” while Papi smacked him in the back of the head with his rolled up newspaper.
I untied my apron with a sigh. “I’m gonna go across the street and visit Dante. Consider this my break.”
Each of them blew me kisses.
But still no apology.
Then again, they were Italian. Controlling. Managing. Temperamental. Shoot. I was going to have to fix it myself. If I didn’t do the breaking up, I would end up married to a stranger that most likely had a unibrow and liked his women in the kitchen — where they “belonged.” Blah! I knew the type. And I refused to be tied down to it. Besides, had they missed the point that I was nineteen? Who got married at nineteen?
They had.
All three uncles.
Who survived their wives.
And now had nothing better to do than meddle in my life and drive me insane!
I ran across the street and pulled open the door, thankful that my twin worked so close by.
Then again, my family basically owned the entire block. We had a cleaners, where two cousins worked, a bar, and the flower shop.
Though it had always seemed strange to me that, besides the bar, we weren’t ever really busy yet were able to completely stay afloat in a down economy.
My uncles said they were fantastic at investing.
And I left it at that, besides, it wasn’t my place to ask questions.
“Whoa, there.” Dante smirked as I made a beeline for the bar and pulled out a seat then, in dramatic fashion, threw half of my body against the bar top and let out a huff.
Dante leaned over so we were nearly nose to nose and whispered, “Rough day, sis?” His knuckles were taped — they were always taped, because he was always getting in fights, but I was too exhausted to argue with him about the blood currently dripping down on the wood bar.
“They’re driving me insane!” I threw my hands into the air and stood. And then decided the only thing left to do was pace back and forth.
Dante chuckled and rapped his knuckles against the bar like he was knocking. “I take it you found out about Nico?”
I stopped walking and shot daggers in his direction. “You traitor! You knew?”
“Hah, they told me last night. Laughed my ass off, told them that maybe they should ask you first, and you know what they said?”
“No, what?”
“They said, ‘We know what is best for our niece.’” Dante used his best Italian accent as he pressed his thumb and forefinger together in the same gesture Gio was known for.