The Redemption(72)

“Nice attitude,” he says sarcastically. “And here I thought this week was about making amends.”

Walking to my trunk, I open it and grab my leather duffle bag out. “So did I, so why are you out here busting my balls?”

Following a heavy sigh, he says, “There’s an additional will that is to be read when the youngest Caggiano hits his thirties.”

“I’ve been thirty for months.”

My brother shrugs. “We’ve been busy.”

Busy stealing I assume, but keep the thought to myself, figuring it’s less confrontational that way. I walk past him and into the house. “Same room?”

Overtaking me, he goes to the bar. “Yep, same room you always had.” I hear the ice dropping into the crystal glass. “Dinner’s in twenty. Dress for it.”

I stop on the stairs wanting to say something, wanting to give him a piece of my mind, but I keep my eyes forward and start back up. This week’s gonna be hell.

I dump my bag on the bed and take a minute to look around. The room is exactly the same, like I never left. Being inside these four walls again makes me feel fourteen in the worst ways. I was abandoned here in the summer, feeling like I’d been forgotten. Anger builds inside.

Unzipping my bag, I choose a long sleeve, button up, but refuse to give in fully to their whims on decorum. Not wearing a tie is the only ammo they have on me when I have a luggage set of issues with them. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I put on the clean shirt then head downstairs.

My mother is standing in front of the wrought iron doors that lead to the large lawn. Croquet is set up and I can only assume per my mom’s request. She turns just as I enter the sitting room. With her token martini in hand, she smiles. It’s small, rigid, but it’s good to see she can form an emotion on her overly botoxed face. She was once a beauty queen. Sometimes I can see the girl who resides inside the bitterness of the woman. Sometimes I can’t.

She stares at me. She always did say I was the spitting image of my father. I took it as a compliment to spite her inference. When she doesn’t say anything, I tend to think she’s lost in a memory of him. Finally, she relaxes and says, “Antonio, it’s so good to see you.”

I go to her and give her a hug because no matter what hurt she’s caused me, I like to think her embraces are genuine. She hugs me back, careful not to spill her drink. “Hi, Mom.” I take the spot next to her, looking out the window. “How are you?”

“You didn’t wear a tie. Will you put one on?”

“No. Is dinner almost ready?”

“Always my non-conformist.”

“Eh,” I say, “It’s working for me.”

Her hand touches my cheek and I see a real smile form. “Don’t ever change,” she whispers, “You’re perfect just how you are.”

My eyes narrow, her unexpected compliment catching me off-guard. “What’s going on?”

“So cynical, Son.”

A loud clap disturbs us and Gage walks in bellowing. “Are they finally done with dinner? I’m starved.”

At the sound, my mom’s hand falls to her side and she sips her cocktail while turning back to look outside again. Bad timing on the interruption. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this side of my mother and I was enjoying it. A woman walks in and tells us dinner is ready in the main dining room.

“Good,” Gage says as if he’s been waiting all day for food. He rushes past us and takes the seat at the head of the table like he somehow earned it.

“You’re an ass, Gage.”

“I may be an ass, but I’m also rightfully head of the family as the oldest male.”

My mother sits next to him quietly as if she doesn’t hear the argument or she just doesn’t care. Wine is poured and I thank the server. She’s pretty, not flirty. Just tending to her job.

Dinner is tense with so many egos trapped in one room. I try to bring up the reason we’re here several times, but nothing sticks. “Explain the situation with the additional will.”

Gage uses all these hand gestures like he’s lecturing a child in timeout. “The lawyer was held in strict confidence until your birthday or if you didn’t live, your funeral.” I glare at him. “What?” He shrugs. “I think we all know it was hit or miss with you.”

“I’d call you an *, but I’m starting to think you like playing that part too much and you’ll take it as a good thing.”

My mom leans her elbows on the table, exasperated. “Boys, let’s put all this animosity behind us and focus on the future.”

Seeing her lose her manners in such an easy way makes me double take in her direction. Something’s going on with her and I think Gage is too angry and too drunk to notice. The server comes in with our dessert plates. She serves Gage last. I’m thinking on purpose. He grabs her ass just as she sets his plate down.

“Excuse you!” she says, her face one of horror.

I stand abruptly. “I apologize for him. We’ll not need anything else tonight.”

She looks from him to me, her expression one of relief when our eyes meet. “Thank you.”

When she leaves the room, I remain standing, tossing my napkin down. “I think we’re finished here. I’m going to bed.” I walk out, needing to clear my mind from the head trip laid on me tonight. The door is pushed open and I move quickly across the yard, stepping over a few wickets on the way. I go toward the shadows where I used to hide when I was a kid, but I break the pattern and pull my phone from my back pocket, dialing instead of drinking.