Page 77 of It's Always Sonny

“Exactly! You’re not actually afraid of failure because you already see yourself as a failure. Parker, you’re afraid of success! You’re afraid of succeeding and of those successes being meaningless to the people who matter most to you. And how could you feel otherwise with parents like yours? Your successes don’t mean anything to them because they’re the failures.” Her words make my chin start to quiver. “But you don’t need to worry about that with Sonny. It’s been seven years, and he’s never stopped thinking of you. The way he’s watched you today is proof—still—that your successes mean everything to him. And what would you two succeeding mean to both of you?”

The rightness of Ash’s words is like stepping beneath a waterfall. Truth showers over me, getting in my eyes and nose and under my skin. The possibility of Sonny and me succeeding makes my throat swell. “Everything.” I laugh incredulously. “Ash, you’re right. You’re exactly right! How did I miss this? How did you figure this out?”

“It’s the hair,” she says with a small smile. Her curls bounce under her beanie. “It hides really massive brains.”

As much as I want to find Sonny and talk to him, I let him have fun with his family while I hang back and process what Ash said.

At one point, Nonna gets up and walks from the table. She’s not quite rushing, but when she’s out of the pavilion, we hear her answer a phone call. She returns a few minutes later looking worried.

Great Aunt Mary asks her something, and she shrugs it off. My mind whirs with fears and possibilities, but just as quickly as I consider them, I reject them. No doctor would call this late in the evening. She’s financially more than okay, thanks to her own business savvy and to the twins, who bought her a house she didn’t need.

Whatever it is, I want her to be okay.

She deserves every happiness.

Sienna is playing with Gabe and Lauren’s toddler. Her smile slips for a moment, and whatever pain she clearly has around fertility throbs like a sore thumb.

Yes, even with that sadness, she maintains a joy that emanates from her.

How does she do that?

How does Sonny’s mom manage to look so thoughtful and so happy? How does Anthony seem at his wit’s end with his tumultuous boys one minute and then pick them up and spin them in a circle the next?

How is a love like this real?

And what is wrong with my parents that they never wanted this?

When Lauren and Sienna bring up the idea of karaoke—which isn’t on my bingo card but should have been—Ash calls Rusty to get a speaker. While they wait, a couple of the great grandkids pull out portable karaoke mics and sing Let It Go together. Rusty’s back in a matter of minutes, and soon, some of the teens are up performing Bohemian Rhapsody.

Harry runs up to the stage to hang out with his “cool” older cousins. And he takes off his jacket, because none of them are wearing them.

Because teens and jackets.

Eye roll.

Annoyance flickers in my brain as I think about how I should have put karaoke on the itinerary. If I’d been better prepared, I’d have had amps and lights ready and a large screen for reading rather than someone’s iPad.

But it’s hard to beat myself up when the Lucianos don’t seem to mind. It’s hard to see myself as a failure when everyone is so happy.

They’ve gone off script, but this time, it’s something everyone can participate in. It’s early enough still that the youngest kids don’t need to sleep yet, but it’s late enough that it’s almost dark, and it makes the cold evening almost cozy.

After each performance, someone yells to Nonna to ask her how it was. Nonna acts like Caesar, holding her thumb out after each performance. She pretends to be harsh, but a smile quivers in the lines around her wrinkled mouth, and it’s ultimately thumbs up every time, even for the ones that don’t deserve it.

Sonny’s family makes no sense. Everyone is teasing. Uncle Bruno is even heckling! But no one is criticizing. Everyone who goes up seems to have a rock solid understanding that they have the full backing of the entire Luciano clan behind them.

This is how Alice must have felt when she tumbled into Wonderland, into a nonsensical world too fantastic to believe.

What could someone do with love like this behind them? It’s no wonder that Sonny and so many of his cousins are so accomplished. Everyone has believed in them their whole lives.

Yet … some of them aren’t accomplished in the traditional sense. I heard one of the cousins talk about being laid off from his third job in two years. My parents would have disowned me. But these people just heard him out and offered whatever help he needed.

Like.

What?

My friends would do that, but friends are different. You self-select. You opt in. These people have been stuck with each other for decades, no say in the matter, but they all act like they won the lottery.

And they’re right.

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