My Mother's Boyfriend

The Dinner

Maya

“A Christmas wedding? Che? Why the rush?” the giant man, Angelo boomed, and everyone stopped chewing their food, jaws slackened and ogling me and Alejandro from where we sat, side by side at the humongous table.

My cheeks are red. Is Alejandro attempting to fool his family with the pretence of a love marriage as well? Christmas is the season for love, after all.

Scanning all the faces, I am learning each one by their voice too. Did they know about my mother’s m#rderer? Did they know if it was their blood relative that did it? Naturally, they would- all of them are the same- vile cold-blooded animals. Not fit to be called humans in this - this- snake pit!

Discomfort increasing with Alejandro’s words, I refused to look up and into anyone’s eyes- let alone the woman who seemed to be the head of this family. Total opposite to mine. In our culture men lead. “We want a quick marriage mama. That’s it.”

“You’re joking, lei è incinta,” (she’s pregnant) the wrinkled mother exclaimed from the head of the table, which seated fifteen people at the moment. I have no idea what she is saying, but I can tell by her pitched tone that she is blaming me for something.

“Quanti anni ha!” (How old is she) Gabriella, the sister, could not hide her shock. She made her dislike of me known when I walked in through the door. Pegged me for a gold-digger, I’m certain. If only she knew. Beautiful she was on the outside, but malice in the inner core.

“Che cosa?” (what thing? It’s slang to describe someone who doesn't know what they're doing, or doesn't understand something.) Thomas was the last to speak and seemed my age, furrowing as he eyeballed me. His attire was fire.

Not understanding half of what they are saying, I keep tight-lipped when I do not even know what they are saying. I know it’s similar to Spanish by the way they pronounce the words, but I do not know what is being said. Italian sounds close to Spanish, right? So, their perfect skin complexion is Italian. I understood then, not Greek after all, like me and the rest of Edinburg Jewels and its surrounding vicinity, thought.

Forget that. How could they all be okay with a son being with the mother and then marrying the daughter? No culture would be okay with this- my eyes widen. To cover up the m#rder...

Maybe they were all in it together with Alejandro. It had a part to play in my mother’s demise. Bile fills my stomach now. I do not have my books to distract me, nor my phone...Oh God. I am now a pawn in this sick game they made.

“Are, how old are you?” Paolo, the only one with a scruffy long brown beard, questions me and I swallow, not knowing how to answer.

“Girl, can you speak?” another elderly woman who was also seated at the table mocked me. Pat, I think is her name. She had a head full of grey but a beautiful face despite her nasty attitude.

“I- I,” unnerved, I did not know what to say. My eyes fall on the napkins that looks stiff enough to have been starched.

How is this my fault? Why is nobody asking the real culprit anything? How dare they bully me- the innocent one. And I’m clearly the youngest one of them all, and I do feel like a child being scolded for being naughty.

Ironic that a few days ago, I boasted to Alejandro that I was an adult. Now this is the consequence of it.

“Can’t you see, she’s after your money?” Sol, another cousin and the only one with green eyes, chimed in then. I am recognising their voices, my head still bent.

“Maria, get me my cheque book,” another man added his two bits, and the scraping of a chair followed, indicating the Maria person and gotten up.

“Would you all please stop?” Alejandro advised then. “You’re scaring the poor girl, she can barely even talk.”

It’s true, I agree with him. I have only had one mussel from the dish, Zuppa di Cozze, which is just fancy for saying mussel in tomato sauce, I figured, and it just so happens to be one of my favourites but how could I eat in this house full of my enemies?

And I’ve never had it this fancy, either.

The entire table was glam. Heck, the entire house was in fact. I mean, I knew they were rich, but super rich? I figured only millionaires and celebs lived this way. The Michaels might be millionaires after all. The mafia mob could have that sort of money, but not so. Pablo Escobar had money to burn even.

I tremble with that thought. As if I had not been terrified before about legally becoming part of this mob squad. My eyes become saucers by his next words.

“She’s not pregnant mama, and she is nineteen,” Alejandro continues and leans in closer to me. I start shaking, and it’s visible because he quickly gets up, taking me with him. "My brother has a child out of wed-lock," he says to me.

Not quite nineteen yet, but I do not dare utter a word. My tremors only worsened when he added, “It’s not my money she’s after-” after all, it technically was. My family took it. “-I had to convince her to marry me.”

How well he lies.

“Che, what about Uma?” his mother deadpans. “You expect us to believe you when you were with her all this time?”

My heart almost ran out of my chest. This confirms they all knew about the affair between him and my mother!

“Mama! This is Uma’s daughter. What are you saying?” my new fiancé is quick to deny, and my stomach warns me it is about to lurch.

“Che?” one of the other brothers exclaimed, and I figured out ‘che’ means what.

“We love each other mama,” he conceded, placing his hand around my waist as if he knew my legs would give out or, perhaps, he sensed my need to run. Or just to play lovers for them. The problem is, even though my legs had no strength and I needed him to hold me up, his touch was also the reason I had to throw up.

I had not eaten anything besides breakfast today. And feeling his fingertips against my flesh, sickened me. The dress I wore tonight was a floor-touching, simple body-fitting but elegant design with a single slit to the front that went up to just past my knee. But the rose-pink-in-colour dress was three-quarters-sleeved and where there was no fabric was where my soon-to-be fiancé's hand, landed.

“How could you do this?” Aunt Pat portrayed her outrage. “Have you no shame?”

My eyes rolled back in my head, but nobody was paying attention to me. They were all busy pointing fingers at each other. This is good, but I would have loved to be a witness to it. To feel each one of them out and get to the bottom of what they knew about my mother.

“Shame for what? Her mother was never my wife. We tell the tale of Uma and I were close because I was dating her daughter, simple.”

Oh God ma, it’s good that you’re dead to not witness this. First dad, now your boyfriend. Why are men so disgusting?

My nausea spreads and now my head is spinning.

“Is this any way to talk, Ale?” This belonged to the gruff one. Er...Paolo.

“I do, not approve of this wedding,” comes from another male elder, and what sounds like a fist slamming on the table accompanies it. Edward. Eduardo but he says call him Edward.

“I agree. I cannot condone this nonsense, brother," Angelo rejoined.

Their voices increased my headache, and everything got blurry.

“Throw up,” I mutter. “Bathroom now...”

Let’s just say, I never made it to the bathroom’s faucet.