finger to her lips threateningly.
We watch in silence, but I look at the others’ faces. All of them glued to the screen, a dreamy look on their faces. A hint of a smile on their lips. A sense of hope. They’re all the same. Cynical Tara, couldn’t-give-a-shit Siobhan, romantic Justine.
And I want to cry. Because my face looks just like theirs and I haven’t felt like anyone else since I was in Year Seven and Siobhan Sullivan and I did the Macarena in the foyer of the chapel and got lunchtime detention for a week.
Justine catches me looking and she smiles, and with tears in my eyes I smile back.
chapter 14
MY DAD COMES to see me at Nonna Anna’s, and we spend the afternoon on the front doorstep in silence. I keep on remembering what Mia asked him once. “Take us away and who are you, Robert?” Worse still, I remember his answer. “Is this a trick question, Mia? Am I dead?” I want to ask him a thousand questions, but somehow we’ve forgotten how to speak to each other. Does he miss her voice, like I do? Can he remember what she sounds like? Does he not know who he is anymore?
“This is wrong,” I tell my dad. “What’s happened to Mum isn’t right, but Luca and I want to come home.”
“She misses you,” he says.
“We miss you, Papa. We miss us.”
He nods calmly. “Then let’s get Luca.”
Mia cries when she sees us. Although she’s out of bed, she’s still in her nightgown, looking a thousand years old. Later, my dad, Luca, and I sit around the table. It’s back to the horrible way it was before I went to Nonna’s. None of us knowing what to say.
I get the calendar and put it down in front of my dad.
“Wednesday, choir practice,” Luca says, clutching on to Pinocchio, who is beside himself with excitement. “Mum picks me up at five o’clock.”
“I’ll stay after school,” I tell them. “On Tuesdays, you have to drop Nonna Anna off at the Italian women’s thing.”
My dad begins writing. “Next.”
“Nonno Salvo has an appointment at the podiatrist every Thursday. Mummy usually takes him.”
“And Friday is cemetery day with Nonna Celia.”
“Plus Mummy has two conferences this year.”
“Frankie, you’ll have to ring and cancel them. We can do the rest, but the conferences are going to be out of the question.”
“She won’t want them canceled. It’s taken two years of lobbying to get these conferences.”
“What about the shopping?” he asks.
“You do the shopping and we’ll work around the rest,” I say.
Lots of nods. Lots of determination. And so much doubt that we can’t even hide it.
My dad comes home triumphant from his first grocery-shopping assignment. As if he’s accomplished God Knows What. I want to remind him that my mum does it every week without fanfare, but I’m too shocked at what he’s unpacking.
“What were you thinking?”
“What?”
He looks stunned. A bit hurt. He’s just conquered Coles. He feels like he deserves a medal.
“What is this?” I ask, holding up the yogurt.
“Yogurt.”
“With six grams of fat per one hundred grams. What happened to nonfat yogurt or ninety-seven percent fat-free yogurt?”
“Are we dieting?”
“Papa, it’s not about dieting. It’s about keeping our fat intake down. Look at this,” I say with a cry in my voice, pulling out some crackers. “What happened to rice crackers, ninety-four percent fat-free as opposed to Chicken in a Biscuit, twenty-two percent fat per one hundred grams?”
By this stage, my dad is looking a bit forlorn, but things only get worse.
“Oh my God!” I hold up the Ice Magic. The stuff you put on ice cream and it hardens like a chocolate top.
“Where did this come from? Do you know what this is? Luca is going to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and squirt it on his tongue. It’s like drugs for ten-year-olds. Today it’s Ice Magic. Tomorrow, heroin.”
We write out a list that he’s to stick to in the future. Luca is already pigging out on
We watch in silence, but I look at the others’ faces. All of them glued to the screen, a dreamy look on their faces. A hint of a smile on their lips. A sense of hope. They’re all the same. Cynical Tara, couldn’t-give-a-shit Siobhan, romantic Justine.
And I want to cry. Because my face looks just like theirs and I haven’t felt like anyone else since I was in Year Seven and Siobhan Sullivan and I did the Macarena in the foyer of the chapel and got lunchtime detention for a week.
Justine catches me looking and she smiles, and with tears in my eyes I smile back.
chapter 14
MY DAD COMES to see me at Nonna Anna’s, and we spend the afternoon on the front doorstep in silence. I keep on remembering what Mia asked him once. “Take us away and who are you, Robert?” Worse still, I remember his answer. “Is this a trick question, Mia? Am I dead?” I want to ask him a thousand questions, but somehow we’ve forgotten how to speak to each other. Does he miss her voice, like I do? Can he remember what she sounds like? Does he not know who he is anymore?
“This is wrong,” I tell my dad. “What’s happened to Mum isn’t right, but Luca and I want to come home.”
“She misses you,” he says.
“We miss you, Papa. We miss us.”
He nods calmly. “Then let’s get Luca.”
Mia cries when she sees us. Although she’s out of bed, she’s still in her nightgown, looking a thousand years old. Later, my dad, Luca, and I sit around the table. It’s back to the horrible way it was before I went to Nonna’s. None of us knowing what to say.
I get the calendar and put it down in front of my dad.
“Wednesday, choir practice,” Luca says, clutching on to Pinocchio, who is beside himself with excitement. “Mum picks me up at five o’clock.”
“I’ll stay after school,” I tell them. “On Tuesdays, you have to drop Nonna Anna off at the Italian women’s thing.”
My dad begins writing. “Next.”
“Nonno Salvo has an appointment at the podiatrist every Thursday. Mummy usually takes him.”
“And Friday is cemetery day with Nonna Celia.”
“Plus Mummy has two conferences this year.”
“Frankie, you’ll have to ring and cancel them. We can do the rest, but the conferences are going to be out of the question.”
“She won’t want them canceled. It’s taken two years of lobbying to get these conferences.”
“What about the shopping?” he asks.
“You do the shopping and we’ll work around the rest,” I say.
Lots of nods. Lots of determination. And so much doubt that we can’t even hide it.
My dad comes home triumphant from his first grocery-shopping assignment. As if he’s accomplished God Knows What. I want to remind him that my mum does it every week without fanfare, but I’m too shocked at what he’s unpacking.
“What were you thinking?”
“What?”
He looks stunned. A bit hurt. He’s just conquered Coles. He feels like he deserves a medal.
“What is this?” I ask, holding up the yogurt.
“Yogurt.”
“With six grams of fat per one hundred grams. What happened to nonfat yogurt or ninety-seven percent fat-free yogurt?”
“Are we dieting?”
“Papa, it’s not about dieting. It’s about keeping our fat intake down. Look at this,” I say with a cry in my voice, pulling out some crackers. “What happened to rice crackers, ninety-four percent fat-free as opposed to Chicken in a Biscuit, twenty-two percent fat per one hundred grams?”
By this stage, my dad is looking a bit forlorn, but things only get worse.
“Oh my God!” I hold up the Ice Magic. The stuff you put on ice cream and it hardens like a chocolate top.
“Where did this come from? Do you know what this is? Luca is going to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and squirt it on his tongue. It’s like drugs for ten-year-olds. Today it’s Ice Magic. Tomorrow, heroin.”
We write out a list that he’s to stick to in the future. Luca is already pigging out on
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