Page 45 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
Embarrassed that I’ve not heard a single thing he’s said, I nod my head quickly without knowing what I’m agreeing to. How is this possible? Just moments before, I was seeking Roberto out. And now a weird emptiness carves itself through me, painfully. Like someone is taking a blunt knife and tracing the ridges of my ribs over and over. I want Theo to care. A stupid fantasy for girls who read too many romance novels.
‘How about Thursday night? I can come to Castagneto Po? Haven’t been there in ages. Does that little cafe still exist down the hill?’ He motions a hill with his hand, making big and obnoxious gestures to visualize the cafe. I already wish I never hugged him.
I laugh even though nothing is funny. ‘Yes, it’s still there.’
‘Good.’ He fidgets with the strap of his apron. ‘I’ll meet you there Thursday.’
‘Okay.’ I try to smile. Overcome with the dreaded revelation at how much I want Theo to care.
‘Nine, okay?’
We step to the side as Dante reaches for a crab leg, oblivious it’s me in front of him.
‘That’s perfect.’ The words feel stiff and inauthentic, but Roberto doesn’t seem to notice. My mother used to tell me to think of a remote controller when I felt like crying. She would say to imagine your finger pressing down on the fast-forward button to skip past this sadness and pause on another feeling. You can go back, she would say. But you can also go forward.
‘Duty calls, I’m afraid. Crab legs need serving.’ Roberto squeezes my shoulder and turns back towards the kitchen.
I’m aware of the muscles on my face and how if I press my teeth together and raise the corners of my mouth it could pass as a smile. I look around to see members of my family scattered about the open restaurant. Jo looks disgusted as he picks up a piece of bloody lamb with the tongs. Anika chats away in his ear about something he couldn’t care less about. Lucia fixes Maio’s plate for him even though he is standing next to her. Dante speaks to a female waitress with a huge grin on his face. Her back is to me, so I’m unsure if she reciprocates.
‘Not a fan of crab legs?’
I turn my head to see Theo on the opposite side of the table looking at my empty plate. The tightness in my throat is so intense that I have to think about breathing in order to get air inside my lungs.
‘Um, actually, no.’ I try to ground myself. ‘Never been one for crustaceans.’
‘Then you’re probably in the wrong section.’
I look down to see that I’ve been standing in front of the shellfish this whole time.
‘Right,’ I start to turn. ‘Guess this sun is getting to my head.’
‘We can’t have that. Your brain is worth at least sixty thousand.’
‘My brain is far from precious. I’m an English major.’
‘Agree to disagree,’ he says roughly while shovelling some prawns onto his plate.
Staring at the pink prawns with blurry eyes, I know I have to get away from him. ‘Guess I better find a table without sea creatures, then.’
Just as I turn away, I hear his deep voice. ‘So who was the guy with the apron?’
My back stiffens and I decide to pretend I didn’t hear him as I walk to the other table. It’s better this way. To pretend. Fingers gripping the ceramic so tightly my joints lock in place.
Dinner drones on. It’s been over three hours, and no one looks particularly eager to leave.
‘Theo, you’ve never had a responsibility in your life. Don’t try to weigh in on something you have no idea about.’
My eyes shoot up to see Dexter, eyes bloodshot and ugly, waving a hand away at Theo. When he lifts his arm, his shirt is soaked in sweat.
‘Nice one, Papa. Very clever.’
I try to make eye contact with Theo, to let him know that I recognize Dexter’s absurdity, but he’s focused only on his father.
‘Tell me it’s not true! I mean who got you the job at the museum in New York, hmm? And the internship in Greece before that? Once you understand real life, I’m all ears to your suggestions.’
Papa sighs, as if accustomed to this, and it strikes a nerve in me, his passive acceptance. It feels like his responsibility to interfere, and maybe I secretly believe it’s always a father’s job to intervene. But as I look around, everyone watches in silence. Vittoria, smoothing out perfectly folded napkins. Dante, playing with the stem of his wine glass. I want to rip the tablecloth off and scream while Anika clears her throat and looks towards the river. You always have something to say! Why are you letting him talk to your brother like that? But I realize that Anika’s loudness doesn’t necessarily equate to her bravery. My hands tingle with the intense desire to slap her. To shout: LIAR.
‘I don’t think you want to talk about real life,’ Theo says, his voice low and controlled.
