Chapter Thirty-six

November

Thanksgiving Weekend

            DAVID AND I DROVE TO LONG ISLAND TOGETHER TO spend Thanksgiving with our respective families, apart from each other. He dropped me off at Maggie’s apartment in Brooklyn, and the following morning on Thanksgiving Day, Maggie and I went into the city to catch a glimpse of the Macy’s parade. In sunny, forty-five degree weather, we bundled up and sipped hot chocolate as we waited for the Kermit the Frog balloon to make its way down Broadway.

            Surprisingly, I found myself looking forward to dinner with my family this year, even without Sam or David. Mags, however, wasn’t too keen on her plans: dinner with the family of the guy she’d been seeing since the summer.

“What was I thinking?” she asked as we huddled together in the cold. “It’s too soon to meet the whole family, especially on a national holiday.”

            “I guess he’s serious about you,” I said.

            “More serious than I am, I’m afraid. I’m just not as into him.” She sighed, “Maybe I’m just afraid of getting hurt again. Maybe I never really got over James’s death. Maybe you never get over it.”

            “Gee, thanks Mags. That gives me something to look forward to.”

She laughed. “Sorry, Cupcake. Then again, I’m also at the place where I’ve just grown comfortable with the idea that it’s just me. I like my independence. I like having the option of not being in a relationship. I often think that’s the place you have to get to in order for anything really good to happen to you.”

“That’s similar to what Marta told me in Lima,” I remarked.

“Still think that was all bullshit?”

“I’m not sure whether it was bullshit; I just question whether it was an authentic moment.”

“Who cares? You got the message, didn’t you? Isn’t that what really matters? And besides, I think it was very real and it just scared the crap out of you because it was exactly what you didn’t want to hear.”

“Oh, come on, Mags! How could she know anything about me or Sam without Manny telling her or my giving it away somehow?”

“Andi, don’t stop believing in possibilities. Sometimes they’re the only things worth believing in.”

I thought about this as Kermit the Frog hovered above us, wavering in a gust of wind, while a high school marching band played an annoyingly perky rendition of “Can You Tell Me How to Get to

Sesame Street

.”

Later that day at Mom’s house, while Tony and I watched the Dallas Cowboys get their asses kicked by the Philadelphia Eagles (much to my dismay since I had bet David twenty dollars against the Eagles), I called David.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked.

“I ate half a turkey leg on a dare from Joey,” I said as my stomach gurgled. He laughed hard. “How ‘bout you?” I asked.

“My mother and sisters wanna meet you again. They want you to come over later tonight or sometime tomorrow. Whattya think?”

“How ‘bout tomorrow? I don’t think I can move, much less fit behind the steering wheel of a car.”

“How’re the Cowboys doing?” he asked.

“They suck.”

“Which means your money is going in my pocket tomorrow night.”

“That may not be the only thing that goes in your pocket tomorrow night,” I said with a wink, even though he couldn’t see me. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds sexual, doesn’t it.”

“I know exactly what it means,” he replied. I could swear he winked back. We both laughed and finalized plans. When I snapped my cellphone shut, I looked up to find Tony gawking at me, mouth open, mortified.

“I don’t even wanna know what it means.”

I laughed. “Get over it, Tony. Your little sister has sex.”

Tony covered his ears and yelled. I laughed again. “Great sex!” I teased. “Earth-moving sex! Sex so good you’ll never want to leave the house ever again! Better-than-jazz-sex!” He ran out of the room, hands over his ears, yelling to make it stop. I almost fell off the chair, laughing.

             

            The last time I had met David’s family was on the day of his father’s funeral. From what he told me, they had liked me back then and were thrilled to find out that we were now a couple, albeit under such tragic pretenses. I was surprised that they remembered me at all.

            He picked me up at my mother’s house in the Hamptons at six-thirty. Mom opened the door; it was her first time meeting David.

“Hello,” she greeted him and extended her hand. “I’m Genevieve Cutrone, Andrea’s mother. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Same here, Mrs. Cutrone. I’m David Santino.”

“Italian?” she asked.

“All the way.”

“I heard you speak it, too.”

He replied in fluent Italian, and could have been condemning her to hell for all either of us knew. Yet she and I both swooned at his inflections and lacy enunciation. David’s speaking Italian made me horny the way Sam’s reading to me use to—I could’ve jumped him right there.

His eyes brightened when he saw me, and I practically pushed my mother out of the way and kissed him hello. “Ciao, bella,” he said, eyeing me up and down.

“So, David. Would you like to come in and sit down?” asked Mom.

“I’m afraid we can only stay for a moment or two. Holiday weekend traffic and all.”

She eyed him as if to say, You’d stay if you knew what was good for you. I raised my eyebrows and concurred. He followed me into the great room.

“Gorgeous house,” said David.

“I got it at a fabulous price, just before the housing market went to hell.”

“Lucky for you.”

Mom took in an eyeful of David before turning to me. “He’s very handsome, Andi. You’ve always managed to attract handsome men.” Then she turned to David. “My husband had your look: tall, dark, and handsome.

Good God, was my mother flirting with my lover? And when was the last time she had brought up my father, especially in front of someone she just met?

“Although you’re more…what’s that word everybody uses now… metrosexual?”

I wanted to dissolve into my seat.

“That’s the word,” David said, taking it in stride, easing my embarrassment with a wink in my direction.

“Yes, he wasn’t one of those. Otherwise, you picked someone just like your father, Andi. You know what they say about girls choosing men like their fathers.”

I cringed. “They don’t say it, Mom. Freud said it. And by today’s standards he’d probably be considered a quack and have his own reality show.”

“Well, I’d like to thank you for sharing your daughter with me this weekend, Mrs. Cutrone.” Ever the charmer.

I stood up. “Well, we gotta go.” Mom and David stood up as well.

“You have keys, yes? I’m locking the door.” She then turned to David and extended her hand again. “Come for dinner the next time you and Andi are in town.”

“It would be a pleasure,” he said, and kissed her hand. Oh, please…

As we walked out to the car, I huddled close to him. “Ok, what’d you say to her before in Italian?s”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You’re mean.”

“Most metrosexuals are.”

I laughed loud enough for it to echo, and didn’t have to look back to know Mom was at the window, watching us.

David drove us to Port Jefferson, where his sister Joannie lived. Their sister Rosalyn couldn’t be there, but his mother, who had relocated to Florida and was staying with Joannie through the holidays, greeted us at the door. She looked less pale than I remembered. She had also put on a little bit of weight and dyed her hair dark brown, yet looked stylish in black palazzo pants and a red cashmere sweater.

            “Annie?” his mother said, smiling at me.

            “Andi,” I corrected.

            “Andi?”

            “Yes, Ma,” David said quickly.

            “Is that short for Andrea?”

            “Yes,” I said.

            “How nice. So nice to see you again, although David told us the tragic story of your husband’s passing. I am so sorry, dear. What an awful thing to have to experience, especially at such a young age.”

            “Thank you, Mrs. Santino,” I said.

            “Marjorie, please.” 

            “Marjorie.”

            She stood on her toes and kissed her son on the cheek as we entered the foyer. “Hi, honey. You always smell so nice.” David blushed. We moved ahead to the living room as he handed our coats to his mother, who took them away. He was dressed in his usual Versace, while I opted for a plaid wool pencil skirt, knee-high suede black boots, and a teal sweater twinset. Joannie then came out of the kitchen with a tray of dishes and coffee cups. She looked exactly the same from when I last saw her, only this time she wore cranberry corduroy jeans and a white button-down stretch shirt. She said hello, then put down the tray to extend her hand to me.

            “Amber?” she said.

            “Andi,” I corrected. David looked mortified.

            “I’m sorry. Hi, I’m Joannie.”

Just then a young girl flew down the stairs, her flaxen hair cascading behind her. She looked to be about thirteen.

            “Who’s here, Mom?” she called halfway down the stairs, jumping from the last three, and came to a halt when she saw us.

            “Hey Missy,” David said, giving her head a tousle.

            “Oh, hey Uncle David. Wanna see what I found on You Tube? You’ll like it—it’s from the eighties,” she taunted.

            “First I want you to meet someone.”

It took me a moment to realize that this was Meredith, the little girl with whom I had colored pictures that evening following David’s father’s funeral. She was barely six years old then; thus, I didn’t expect her to remember me. Still, my face lit up when I saw her.

“Wow! You’ve grown up so much since the last time I saw you!”

“That’s right!” David said as the memory came to him, and he shared it. Meredith shrugged her shoulders either out of shyness or disinterest.

“Are you going to be my new aunt?” she asked. It was nice to see her blunt honesty was still intact. I glanced at her uncle and raised my eyebrows, as he raised his arms in defense and donned a don’t-look-at-me expression. Joannie invited us to sit in the living room while she served apple pie and coffee. David and I sat on the sofa together, our legs touching and his arm around me, and Joannie and Marjorie sat in chairs flanking the sofa on opposite sides, forming a conversation nook. Meredith slouched on the sofa next to David, preoccupied with her pie and milk.

“So,” Joannie said, “tell me again how you met? I’ve forgotten.”

David and I exchanged nervous glances. “We met at a cocktail party,” I said. I looked at him. “Eight years ago, yes?”

“You weren’t one of his…”

“Please,” Marjorie interrupted, either to keep a fight from coming on or from bringing up his shady past in front of Meredith, or both.

“No,” he lied, his voice curt and sharp. I almost expected him to tack on, “Well, not exactly…”

“But you got married shortly after our father died—isn’t that right?”

“Well, I left New York shortly afterwards, and got married about a year later.”

“So how did you and David get back together—I mean, how did you meet again?”

Her questions felt more like an interrogation than getting-to-know-you.

“Would you believe in Rome?” I said.

“Where?”

David and I exchanged glances again.

“I turned around and there she was,” he responded. I let out a small cough to stifle my laugh before taking a sip of coffee.

“Sounds romantic,” said Joannie. But Marjorie squinted at David as if she knew he was withholding a crucial detail. How do mothers know these things?

“Well,” she said to her brother, “it’s nice to see you’ve finally met someone you can actually bring home.”

“Don’t start, Jo,” he said, annoyed.

“I’m just saying—”

“—Say nothing.”

“This pie is delicious,” I interjected, and turned to David. “Wanna split a second piece with me, Dev?”

It took less than a nanosecond for me to catch myself, but a nanosecond too late to stop it from spilling out. I started to gasp, but caught that too as David squeezed my arm.

“Dev?” said Joannie.

“Dave,” he said in an attempt to yank out the foot I’d just rammed into my mouth.

“Dave?” she and her mother said in unison.

“Since when do you like to be called ‘Dave’?” Marjorie asked.

“I heard ‘Dev’,” said Joannie.  

“It’s a nickname,” I said. “You know, like a pet name.”

“Why ‘Dev’?” his sister interrogated.

“You call Meredith ‘Missy’,” David said.

“You always hated ‘Dave’,” said Marjorie.

“She didn’t say ‘Dave’, okay?” he said, raising his voice.

“Who, Annie?” said Meredith.

“Andi,” David and I said at the same time.

“What does he call you?” Joannie asked me.

“Cupcake,” I said. Which was, in fact, the name Maggie used from time to time.

“Cupcake? That is so degrading,” said Joannie.

“I don’t call her ‘cupcake’. I don’t call her anything.”

“I love cupcakes,” said Meredith.

“Me too,” I concurred.

“Shall we start over again?” David asked.

“Who’s on first!” I said.

Meredith hopped up. “Do we have any chocolate cake left?”

I hopped up too. “Can I help you look?”

“Sure.” With that, I followed her into the kitchen.

Almost two hours later, as I was coming down the hallway from the bathroom, David ambushed me from the opposite direction, pushed me into a dark room and closed the door behind us, kissing me hard at the same time.

“Cupcake?”

I laughed and then quickly covered my mouth. “I am so sorry.” I said softly. “It just slipped out. Do you think she knows now?”

“They never knew my escort name.”

“Well, how far-fetched can it be, then? You’ll think of something, schmooze-boy.”

“Well, you’re off the hook for now, Hot Lips—”

“—See? You do have a pet name for me.”

“—but next time I’m gonna have to kick the crap out of you.”

“I didn’t know metrosexuals could do that.”

He laughed and kissed me again, making an “Mmmmmm” noise. Hi mother was right; he smelled really good.

“Ever do it in someone else’s house?” he asked. He had me pinned against the door and moved his hand along my thigh and up my skirt while my memory flashed to Sam doing the exact same thing right before he went out for the damn cider.

“Sam and I did it in his office at school one time.”

I wasn’t sure if I was getting more turned on by the memory or David’s present moves.

“Wanna do it now?” he kissed me again and touched me. I started breathing heavily.

“Won’t we be missed?” I asked, undoing his fly.

“They’re doing the dishes.”

“Where are we, anyway?”

He started grinding me. “I think it’s the guest room.”

“You think?”

“I hope it’s the guest room.”

“Isn’t your mother staying in the guest room?”

“Shut up.” He kissed me hard again.

Shortly thereafter, we came out of the room, got our coats, and said our goodbyes, both of us trying to hide our elation. I felt flushed and kept fixing my hair, convinced it had become tousled and unruly. David had to take my hand away and hold it.

“It was so nice to finally meet you again, Andi,” Marjorie said.

“Yes,” I said. “I had a wonderful time.” David squeezed my hand.

“Come any time,” said Joannie.

With that, David and I exchanged glances one last time and burst out laughing. “We will,” we said in unison.

When we pulled into the driveway of my mother’s house, he leaned in and kissed me again—I could still taste the apple pie and coffee on his tongue.

“Have I told you lately how great a lover you are?” he asked in a dreamy voice.

I smiled slyly. “Tell me again.”

“You’re fantastic.”

“I had a good teacher.”

He returned the same sly smile. “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re very proud of yourself right now, aren’t you.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I had actually been thinking of Sam as the teacher. And yet, I knew that had it not been for him, for Devin, Sam never would have had the chance.

And I loved them both.