yet to think of.
“I don’t know what I’m—” I began.
“Why shouldn’t she be thinking of it?” my mother chimed in. “She’s thirty-one years old.”
“Believe me, you’re better off waiting,” Miranda said. “I married Fred when I was twenty-five, and look where that got me,” she continued with the habitual roll of the eyes she made whenever she referred to her ex-husband.
My mother’s mouth dropped open, then she shut it soundly. But her expression, as it roamed over her prized firstborn son sitting next to his bride-to-be, said that she didn’t think Miranda had done too badly in the long run.
“Hey, Vanessa was only twenty-five when she married me. And you’re happy, baby, aren’t you?” Sonny said, turning to his wife, who scrunched up her nose and rubbed it against his, as her hand roamed over her ever-present abdomen. Somehow the sight of them made me feel… wistful. But only for a moment.
“Well, I was a young bride, too,” Nonnie said, “and all that made me was a young widow,” she continued, giving Artie a significant look. “But things are different today. Women today like to date around. Test-drive a man before they take him home for good.”
“What? I was wrong to marry my husband at twenty-two?” my mother said defensively. “We were in love. We wanted to be together.”
And there, I thought, lay the thing that stabbed most about Kirk’s weekend away. Did he even want to be with me? Really be with me?
“Tell you the truth,” Sonny said now,“I always liked that first guy you went out with. Vincent Salerno. Whatever happened to him?”
“Married,” my mother said, as if whatever point she was trying to make was already proved. “For over nine years now.”
“Whoa-ho,” Sonny said with a barely contained laugh. “Another one bites the dust. And didn’t you recently go to the wedding of that guy you went out with in college? What was his name? Randy?“
“That was five years ago already,” my mother said. Clearly she was a stickler for details tonight.
Oh, God, please don’t let them ask about Josh next…
But Sonny didn’t even need to ask about Josh to make his point.“Hey, you wait any longer, Ange, and all of the good ones will be taken,” he said.
“Not all of them,” Nonnie said, giving Artie a look that stopped his fork midway to his mouth.
Even my own grandmother was going to beat me to the altar, I realized now, judging by the blush that was crawling up Artie’s neck.
“Angela’s different,” Vanessa said in my defense. “She’s artistic, ” she declared, her thick Brooklyn accent making the word sound more like “autistic.”
“Hey, Angela, can you do that headstand for us again?” Tracy asked, remembering a Rise and Shine routine I once demonstrated for her in my mother’s living room.
“No headstands,”Joey said as Tracy began to scoot out of her chair. “You gotta eat first. Then Angela will do her tricks for you.”
Tricks? Oh, brother.
When had I gone from “artistic” to circus sideshow freak?
I sighed. Maybe there really was something wrong with me.
----
Chapter 4
I just called… to SCREAM. I LOVE YOU!
Here is only one thing worse than returning to an empty apartment on a Sunday night—that’s returning to an empty apartment littered with the remains of someone else’s good time. Specifically, Justin’s and—-judging by the two wineglasses nestled cozily together on the dining room table—Lauren’s. Apparently they’d come home early from the Hamptons. Candles littered the windowsill; the smell of burning wax was still in the air. A note left by the answering machine indicated in Justin’s loopy scrawl that he had taken Lauren to the airport. Which meant, since Justin didn’t have a car, that he was taking an expensive round-trip cab to LaGuardia, just so he could spend an extra hour with the woman he once described to me as “the best thing that ever happened” to him.
I sighed.When was
“I don’t know what I’m—” I began.
“Why shouldn’t she be thinking of it?” my mother chimed in. “She’s thirty-one years old.”
“Believe me, you’re better off waiting,” Miranda said. “I married Fred when I was twenty-five, and look where that got me,” she continued with the habitual roll of the eyes she made whenever she referred to her ex-husband.
My mother’s mouth dropped open, then she shut it soundly. But her expression, as it roamed over her prized firstborn son sitting next to his bride-to-be, said that she didn’t think Miranda had done too badly in the long run.
“Hey, Vanessa was only twenty-five when she married me. And you’re happy, baby, aren’t you?” Sonny said, turning to his wife, who scrunched up her nose and rubbed it against his, as her hand roamed over her ever-present abdomen. Somehow the sight of them made me feel… wistful. But only for a moment.
“Well, I was a young bride, too,” Nonnie said, “and all that made me was a young widow,” she continued, giving Artie a significant look. “But things are different today. Women today like to date around. Test-drive a man before they take him home for good.”
“What? I was wrong to marry my husband at twenty-two?” my mother said defensively. “We were in love. We wanted to be together.”
And there, I thought, lay the thing that stabbed most about Kirk’s weekend away. Did he even want to be with me? Really be with me?
“Tell you the truth,” Sonny said now,“I always liked that first guy you went out with. Vincent Salerno. Whatever happened to him?”
“Married,” my mother said, as if whatever point she was trying to make was already proved. “For over nine years now.”
“Whoa-ho,” Sonny said with a barely contained laugh. “Another one bites the dust. And didn’t you recently go to the wedding of that guy you went out with in college? What was his name? Randy?“
“That was five years ago already,” my mother said. Clearly she was a stickler for details tonight.
Oh, God, please don’t let them ask about Josh next…
But Sonny didn’t even need to ask about Josh to make his point.“Hey, you wait any longer, Ange, and all of the good ones will be taken,” he said.
“Not all of them,” Nonnie said, giving Artie a look that stopped his fork midway to his mouth.
Even my own grandmother was going to beat me to the altar, I realized now, judging by the blush that was crawling up Artie’s neck.
“Angela’s different,” Vanessa said in my defense. “She’s artistic, ” she declared, her thick Brooklyn accent making the word sound more like “autistic.”
“Hey, Angela, can you do that headstand for us again?” Tracy asked, remembering a Rise and Shine routine I once demonstrated for her in my mother’s living room.
“No headstands,”Joey said as Tracy began to scoot out of her chair. “You gotta eat first. Then Angela will do her tricks for you.”
Tricks? Oh, brother.
When had I gone from “artistic” to circus sideshow freak?
I sighed. Maybe there really was something wrong with me.
----
Chapter 4
I just called… to SCREAM. I LOVE YOU!
Here is only one thing worse than returning to an empty apartment on a Sunday night—that’s returning to an empty apartment littered with the remains of someone else’s good time. Specifically, Justin’s and—-judging by the two wineglasses nestled cozily together on the dining room table—Lauren’s. Apparently they’d come home early from the Hamptons. Candles littered the windowsill; the smell of burning wax was still in the air. A note left by the answering machine indicated in Justin’s loopy scrawl that he had taken Lauren to the airport. Which meant, since Justin didn’t have a car, that he was taking an expensive round-trip cab to LaGuardia, just so he could spend an extra hour with the woman he once described to me as “the best thing that ever happened” to him.
I sighed.When was
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