Damaged: A Novel (A Rosato & DiNunzio Novel) by Scottoline Lisa

Author:Scottoline, Lisa [Scottoline, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781250099631
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2016-08-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Mary sat in the kitchen explaining the situation, and her parents sat across from her, listening. Tomato sauce, called gravy in the South Philly vernacular, bubbled away in the dented pot on the stove, and freshly percolated coffee sat cooling in cups near their hands. The air was scented with garlic and oregano, and the kitchen looked the way it had since forever: small, white, and clean, ringed by white wood cabinets, an ancient church calendar, and faded photos of Jesus Christ, John F. Kennedy, and Pope John. Evidently Pope Francis had joined the DiNunzios’ All-Star Team, in the form of a newspaper photo of the Pontiff waving from his black Fiat during the Papal Visit.

Her mother didn’t ask any questions, but her father turned into an assistant district attorney. His mind was still sharp as a tack, but his back had been deteriorating after a lifetime of setting tile. He was bald and adorably pudgy in his white T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, and he wore trifocals with black frames. His eyes were still good, though her mother’s had worsened from a childhood spent sewing piecework in the basement of this very rowhouse. Being home only confirmed the correctness of Mary’s decision not to tell them about Anthony’s wish to move to California. It was a DiNunzio family tradition never to leave. The kitchen.

“So, what do you think?” Mary asked, when she was finished. “Anthony doesn’t want me to take Patrick, but I’m thinking that I should. What should I do?”

“MARE,” her father shouted. He was hard of hearing and his hearing aid did nothing but plug his ears, so he spoke only in high decibels. “OF COURSE YOU SHOULD TAKE HIM! YOU GOTTA TAKE HIM. IF YOU DON’T TAKE HIM, YOUR MOTHER AND I WILL TAKE HIM.” Her father looked over at her mother. “RIGHT, VEET?”

Her mother nodded but still didn’t say anything, and Mary could see her mother’s eyes glistening behind her thick glasses.

“THAT’S HOW WE RAISED YOU. THAT’S WHAT WE BELIEVE. THAT’S WHO WE ARE. YOU GIVE TO PEOPLE, ’SPECIALLY KIDS. YOU CAN’T LET HIM GO TO NO FOSTER HOME. HE’S AN ORPHAN.”

Her mother nodded, blinking wetness from her eyes.

“WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO WITH HIM WHEN YOU’RE AT WORK?”

“I’m going to cut back on my workload and work at home as much as I can. I could get a nanny to come to the house, too.”

“PSSH!” Her father waved her off with a chubby hand. “I’LL PICK HIM UP AT SCHOOL. WHERE’S THAT SCHOOL YOU’RE TALKIN’ ABOUT? IN FAIRMOUNT?”

“Yes,” Mary answered. Fairmount Prep was in the upscale, tree-lined neighborhood where Bennie lived, around the Art Museum.

“IT’S ONLY FIFTEEN MINUTES AWAY. I’LL PICK HIM UP AND TAKE HIM HERE. THEN I’LL BRING HIM TO YOUR HOUSE WHEN YOU’RE DONE WORK.”

“Pop, that’s a lot of driving.”

“SO WHAT? I LIKE TO DRIVE. WHAT ELSE I GOTTA DO? NO STRANGER’S GONNA BABYSIT MY GRANDSON.”

Mary felt touched at the sound of the word. Grandson.

“EVERY DAY AFTER SCHOOL, YOUR MOTHER, SHE’LL FEED HIM HOMEMADES.

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