VINNIE
I stumbledinto work two hours late with my clothes wrinkled and my hair a wreck. Myexcuse was, I hadn't heard the alarm go off. That was a minor human error, asfar as I was concerned, and I strolled behind the counter and into the kitchen,hoping my older sister would agree.
Judgingfrom the look on her face, though, she didn't.
“So,what's the story today?” she muttered, not looking up from the pot of sauce shewas making.
“Didn'thear the alarm,” I replied, grabbing an apron and tying it around my waist.
“Thisis the third day in a row that youdidn't hear the alarm.” She parrotedmy words with a hint of condescension, like she didn't quite believe me.
“Yeah,I dunno what's up with my alarm clock. Maybe I need to get one of those onesthat sound like a friggin' bomb's goin' off or somethin'. You know, they make'em where they'll shake your bed and—”
“Idon't know why this is a joke to you,” she snapped, cutting me off. She looked upfrom the pot, slicing through my attempt to keep things light-hearted with asteely glare. “It's just you and me now, Vin, and we have a business to run.We.That means webothcome in at six o'clock in the morning and get shitready to open at nine. Six o'clock. Not eight, not eight-thirty.Six.That's when the big hand—”
“Iknow when six is, Jen. You don't gotta talk to me like I'm a little kid.”
Droppingthe ladle onto the spoon rest beside the stove, she said, “Then, stop actin'like a little kid.”
Ibit the inside of my cheek hard enough to feel the pain. She held my glare in astaring contest I was determined to not let her win, and with every second thatwent by, the more annoyed I became. So what if I was late a few days this week?I still always came in before opening and did what needed to get done. So, whatwas her problem?
“So,”she said, finally looking away and making me the victor, “you gonna tell me whyyou've been so late every day this week?”
Shakingmy head and rolling my eyes, I grumbled, “I already told—”
“Yeah,I know what you told me. Now I'm askin' why you've been sleeping through thealarm. You never had a problem before this week, so what's goin' on with you?”
Toanybody else, this would've been an innocent question. Simple curiosity. But Iknew better. It was an accusation. A dig to find out if I was up to no good andup to old habits. But who the hell was she to think so poorly of me? Did shereally think I was that weak, thatstupid, to slide down that dark anddirty spiral again so easily?
“Thehell you askin' me that for?”
Atthe belligerence in my tone, she turned to me, brow furrowed. “I'm allowed toask you a question, Vin. Why the hell areyougettin' so defensive?”
“Maybebecause it's none of your damn business why I'm late. I'm here, okay? So, dropit.”
Crossingher arms over her chest, she shook her head defiantly. “I'm not droppin'nothin'. You're gonna tell me why—”
“BecauseAndy's been stayin' over every night this week. You wanna know what we've beendoin'? Want me to give you the play-by-play?”
Herrosy cheeks brightened under the florescent lights as she quickly looked backat the pot of sauce, now bubbling and spitting against its lid. “Oh,” shereplied, swallowing. Then, she nodded, relenting with a noisy exhale. “I guessit's, uh, been a little nice to have your privacy, huh?”
Myheart sank a little deeper in my chest as I crossed my arms and shrugged. “Popswas kinda cock-blockin' me, yeah.”
Then,to my relief, she smiled. “I get it. I mean, I did manage to have two kidswhile livin' under his roof, but I'm still not entirely sure when we managed toactually do the deed. It was tough having him right across the hall.”
Snorting,I said, “Yeah, try sharin' a room with him until you were thirty years old.Gettin' my own room was the highlight of my fuckin' life.”
Jennalaughed gently, not bothering to hide the undertone of sadness as it misted hereyes. She nodded and stepped toward me, wrapping her arms around my waist andsqueezing until I relented and hugged her back.
“I'msorry,” she said. “It's just been a rough week for all of us and I started tofeel like I was in this alone.”
“You'renot alone, Jen.”
Shenodded against my chest. “I know. Just ... just try to get here on time, okay?Stop makin' me worry about you.”
Imade a promise to try harder and that was good enough for her. She gave mywaist another squeeze and set back to work, finishing the sauce and pullingtogether the ingredients for meatballs. I excused myself, leaving the kitchento start the first batch of pizzas.
I'dbeen making pizza since I was a kid. Pops had wasted no time putting us to workas soon as we legally could, and it'd always been a love-hate relationship forme. The end result was glorious. I enjoyed the pride I felt, seeing the happylooks on customers’ faces and hearing their sounds of satisfaction, but makingthe pies themselves was tedious busywork that I didn't love. I needed music, Ineeded conversation—I needed something to keep my thoughts from getting thebest of me. Before Pops had died, I’d made sure of it. I'd pop my earbuds in orturn the radio on. I'd reel Jen in for some banter or call Zach, knowing he wasalso getting ready for his workday at Famiglia Bella II. But Pops's death haddone something to me and I'd become a glutton for punishment. In near silence,I let the thoughts slip in, to eat away at me as I kneaded the dough and spunit on my hands.
