Four Times Blessed (5 page)

             
A disheveled older man, running like he’s ice skating or something, I don’t know, people around here tend to be different, leaps, at least for him I think it’s meant to be a leap, through the door.

Ok, then. 

I check for the third most punctual analysis and interpretation specialist, but he or she is lagging today so I go through and let the door snick shut.

I hug the concrete wall, painted and repainted so many times it’s almost squishy, so I don’t get driven back by the flow of uniformed people heading for the mess hall.

It’s times like these I’m so glad I have my aunt’s nice house and cooking to go to. I feel bad for these poor people. Sleeping in bunkbeds. Eating fake meat and that watery pasta from metal hotboxes, sauce plopped right on top.

My zizi would be appalled.

             
Sitting on a big rock just inside the treeline, I find my cousin Cassie. Actually, I think she’s technically the step-daughter of my second cousin twice removed, who married a guy from Nearby Providence her parents found in the Eligible pages. He died, went overboard with a wave and hit his head on the crane along the way, but he was a good guy so her parents did it again for her second husband, and that worked out better. Anyways, I call Cassie my cousin. Because like Leni’s whale-fish, it’s what she is.

             
“Hey, Cassie, how you doing?”

I we kiss each other on the cheeks. I feel myself settling down now that I see her and there’s no more air-conditioning. I swear, it was so bad today I ended up taking a little trip to the engineers’ secret play-time stash and making five Bunsen burners disappear.

I set them in a circle around my workstation, and, although it did strike me as a little Halloween-y, it was quite effective.   

             
“Hi, Crusa. I waited for you.”

             
“Oh, thanks, Cassie. That was really sweet. I hope you weren’t bored.”

             
“No, I was talking to the chipmunks so I wasn’t bored.”

             
“Oh. That’s nice.”

             
“Yeah, they were gathering nuts but I told them they should be careful because the evil ones will steal them and you’ll starve in the snow.”

             
“I’m sure the chipmunks will be fine,” I take her hand, and she starts swinging them as we walk.

             
“I know they will, now that I warned them. I always warn them. They have to be careful and that’s why I tell them.”

             
I nod.

“You look like Eleni.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. You do, too.” That’s a high compliment, very sweet of her to say.

It’s an important part of being a cousin, telling your other cousins they’re pretty. Even though you’ve known each other since you were born and share most of your DNA, so you all look a whole lot like each other and it’s all so familiar, you really have no idea if each other is pleasing to look at or not. You say it, and believe it, and take care of anyone who dares mention anything else.

It’s one of the best parts of having so many cousins.

             
“Why are you sad?”

             
“Hm? I’m not sad. I’m just thinking.”

             
“You look sad. You shouldn’t be, it’s going to be sunny the whole next week.”

             
“Now how do you know that, missy?” I smile to myself.

             
“The chipmunks tell me.”

             
“Hm, well, I believe you, Cassie. I was doing some weather analysis today, and that’s what all the simulations told me, too.”

             
“See? Nobody believes me but it’s true.”

             
“I know, Cassie, I know. You’re very smart.”

             
“Did you get to see your brother last weekend?”

             
“Nah, not really. He was in and out…” I wave.

             
“Oh. How was he? Could you tell?”

             
“Seemed better than last time. No new cuts or bruises.” At least not that I saw.

             
“I can’t believe zizi’s letting one of her own nephews apprentice for old man Fredo.”

             
“It seems fine.” My mother set up the apprenticeship for him, like she did with my marriage. Before she died. Before old man Fredo decided to remarry and move his blacksmith shop over the hill and onto Angie’s people’s side of the island.

              “What else did you do today?” I ask.

             
“What? Oh, all the girls helped Zizi with stuff. Are you excited about next weekend?”

             
“Mm hm, I’m very excited.” So excited, I feel like throwing up every time I think about it.

             
“You don’t sound excited.”

             
I take a deep breath and let my lips flap. Yeah. 

             
“I know, I know. I’m working up to it, Cas. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll all be fine and this Andrew guy’ll be great.” I smile for her, and she seems satisfied.

             
“Andrew. Funny name.”

             
“Ha, I know. He’s blonde, too.”

             
“What? No way, I’ve never seen any blonde person before, except for ghosts.”

             
“Well, hopefully he’s not a ghost.”

             
“Don’t worry, I’ll know if he is and I’ll tell you.”

             
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

We circle the green and then the meetinghouse too, because a bunch of little kids have built a surprisingly effective fort on the front steps. When we walk into my aunt’s kitchen, I let the bookbag drop. Cassie tells me that she’s promised Camillo she’d sneak him over some of our zizi’s pickled eggplant, which he apparently needs or he’ll die and Angie doesn’t make it the same. I tell her to say hi for me and massage my neck.

              Eleni’s at one of the longer tables. My cousin’s dinner is partially gone. She likes to eat her fish, or meat if it’s a special day, first. Then she’ll eat her pasta, potatoes, corn, whatever. Last she’ll eat her vegetables. If it’s a meal where they’re all mixed together, she’ll be grumpy. I try to give her space on those days.

I sit down next to her and see there’s already a full plate set there. I kiss her and squeak thank you. It’s angel hair, my favorite.

Camillo’s favorite is bowties, farfalle. Bowties with butter and cheese. My zizi likes penne rigatte, which take forever to make with the ancient hand-cranker that I have to fix every five seconds.

But her penne are especially good on cold, wet, March nights with her legendary meatballs. The magical secret to those is to cook each one in oil in the bottom of the pot first, use good bloody meat, and don’t add breadcrumbs.

Cassie gets excited over shells. Shells and peas. And Eleni says she likes one shape and then when she sees it in front of her, she says oh.

But when my zizi makes angel hair, I know it’s because she’s thinking of me. Today it’s angel hair and little pink shrimp, all tossed in lemon and butter. I reach across Eleni to take some of the green salad, too.

              “So, other than laundry, what’d I miss today?”

             
“Nothing much. Cassie and I went to the beach for a while.” I frown and sniff.

             
“Hey, did you use some of my suntan lotion moisturizer stuff today?”

             
“What? Yeah. Zizi said I could because my hands were red from doing
our
laundry.”

             
“I don’t care, I was just wondering. I need it for tomorrow, though.”

I won’t complain yet, but she’ll hear it if she didn’t leave me enough for an afternoon out on the lab boat. I already used too much of the stuff staying in that stupid swamp. Not an experience I want to relive right now while I’m eating. Suffice it to say, lots of sun, lots of sunburn, lots of stinky rotting plants.

“I left it outside, grandmothers, Crusa. I just used one squirt.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry, honestly. You can use more tonight, if you want.”

Eleni takes a stiff sip of her water.

“What do you say?” chimes in my Auntie Larissa from down the table. I guess she’s been listening. A large family lesson. Always assume someone is listening.

Leni’s voice drops and she says, “Thank you.”

“And what does Crusa say, Carissa?” our aunt asks our two year old cousin.

“She say, she say you’re welcome.” Carissa looks at me severely. Great grandmothers, little kids are scary.

“You’re welcome,” I manage. Eleni smirks. I elbow her.

“Ow.”

I laugh. She steals my bread and laughs, too.

“Hey!”

She licks it and then holds it out to me. Another large family lesson. My cousin is the genius, I think, not me.

“Here.”

“Ew, no, that’s disgusting. Give me the basket.”

Our Aunt Larissa hands it over and I take another piece, this time licking it with a big swipe. Complete with sound effects.

“Crusa, have I told you about the young men I met today?” our aunt asks, tugging Carissa onto her lap. The girl snuggles into her and then proceeds to glare at me. I glance over at Eleni, but she’s busy picking the bits of onion out of her pasta. I start thinking she’ll be no help, when she snorts.

Oh, great. Now what am I in for?

I try to sound nice.

“What young men, Auntie?” and I give her a smile.

I swear I hear Carissa growl.

“Oh my goodness gracious, Eleni! I can’t believe you didn’t tell our Crusa what I told you. I would think such pretty, unattached girls as yourselves would mention this sort of thing right away. Sweet Lord, this is why you two don’t have husbands. You have to pay attention girls. But here, I’ll help you if you want.”

“That’s ok, auntie. You don’t have to.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind. Now I know
you
are all set, Crusa dear, so this is mostly for Eleni, but you should listen too. Just in case something ever happened to your man, there, God forbid,” and she makes the sign of the cross. Eleni, nose now so deep in her plate it’s in danger of being poked by her trolling fork, echoes the motion.

My whole family is insane.

“Today,” my aunt Larissa pauses. “I went down to the bait and tackle shop for your uncle. He needed some cord to fix his net and you know your uncle, he’d wait until the only thing he was throwing in the water was one big hole before he did anything about it. So. I went down there and walked into your Uncle Groton’s shop, just walked right in, started looking around. Minding my own business. Then. All of a sudden. I noticed an incredibly handsome young gentleman behind the counter. I’m telling you girls. Incredibly. Handsome. You wouldn’t even believe it.”

She smacks her splayed hands down on the table and I decide she’s a smart lady because she’s right. I don’t believe it.

“And guess what?” she smacks the poor table again, and it shudders. She leans forward. Carissa squirms. I will not answer. I will not answer. I will not answer. My aunt smiles like she knows what I’m thinking and she knows she’ll win.

“What?” I say, very disappointed in myself.

“I just happened to get to talking to him, and he told me he had a brother. Around the same age. Isn’t that sweet? Anyways, we were chatting and I noticed one thing.”

“What.”

“They aren’t
from
here.”

“That’s…strange. Why would you think that?”

“Because, dear, I’m not stupid. I’ve never seen them before.”

“Yeah, but they could be from Zizi Angie’s side of the family.”

My aunt sits back and starts mumbling, jaw clenched, and makes the sign of the cross again. I hate to sound paranoid, but I think it’s aimed at me. I’d tell her to knock it off, or roll my eyes, maybe, except, well, it’s the sign of the Cross, and she’s my aunt.

“They’re not Angie’s, trust me, dear. I know all of that side and these aren’t hers.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, honey, I’m sure. Honestly,” she huffs.

I think she’s had a long day.

Little Carissa squawks and plops to the floor pretty hard. My Auntie Larissa dusts off the girl’s bottom and gives her a pat to send her off on two little stockinged feet.

“And like I was trying to tell you, he was handsome. Isn’t that wonderful?” she smiles.

I try for some kind of positive response, but all I come up with is a nervous giggle. Because, call me crazy, but I don’t really want to a, assume my not-yet-even husband is going to die, b, trust my aunt’s judgment on handsomeness, or c, be set up by her.