Page 51 of Summer, in Between
‘One is fine, thank you.’
‘There’s face washers in the bottom drawer.’I point towards the vanity.‘And there’s soap in that cupboard.Do you need a toothbrush?We have spares, but they’re just manual.Mine’s electric.For my braces, you know.My old braces, obviously.They’re gone now.’If only I could wire my mouth shut to end this torrent of verbal embarrassment.
‘Thanks,’ says Paul.‘All good.’He stares at me, and I realise he’s waiting for me to leave.
‘Oh, sorry, enjoy.Don’t worry about how long you take, Matty’s a shocker and we have an amazing hot water system.It never runs out.You want the door shut?Of course you do, you’re not a total exhibitionist, or are you?’
‘Thanks.Cat, I think I can handle it from here.’He pulls the door shut, closing me out.
Ugh, good one, Cat.So sophisticated. I tug at my hair, eyes rolled.Why am I such a complete tool?The door flies open.
‘The towel?’he says.
Holy crappola, I’m still holding it.I just about throw it at him, then all but run into the kitchen.A task is what I need, a super important task to focus on so I don’t think about the naked beautiful walking surfer god in my shower.My shower.Naked.
‘Cat, can you please get the plates and cutlery while you’re in there?’Mum calls out.
Bless you, mother of mine, you always come up with the goods when I need you to.I set the table and take out glasses and the water jug, as well as some wine glasses.Mum eyes me off as I place a wine glass at each setting, except for my brothers.
‘Don’t even think about it, Mum,’ I mutter.‘We’re Italian, remember?It’s not like I’m going to neck the bottle and vomit all over my shoes.’
‘You can have half a glass.’
23
AS it turns out, Ihave more than half a glass.Mum’s right; it’s a beautiful night.We have dinner on the balcony: Dad’s steaks, salad from Nonna’s garden, some corn grilled on the barbecue and slathered with lime juice and butter.The jasmine from the neighbour’s garden sits heavy in the air, Paul’s beside me, and he smells so good it takes all I have not to bury my face in his chest just to inhale him.
After dinner, Mum asks Paul if he’s ever tried an affogato.He shakes his head, so I go inside to fire up the coffee machine.Mum sends Matty inside with clear instructions to stack the dishwasher.He dumps the plates on the bench next to the sink.
‘Oi!’I say.‘I heard Mum.Stack the dishwasher.That’s that shiny thing under the sink there.Oops, sorry, forgot who I was talking to.Matty, my darling brother, the sink is that other shiny thing on the top of the dishwasher with the magic spout that when you flick the knob water comes out.’
‘You’re the knob.’He disappears downstairs.The ‘ping, ping, ping’ of a godforsaken video game starts up.Tommy races downstairs after him, and then the dulcet tones of their fighting drifts across the evening.
As the coffee machine hums, I open the freezer and thank the stars above.Mum has bought some ridiculously expensive vanilla ice-cream.As I spoon it into the shot glasses, I spot the limoncello that Nonna gave Dad for Christmas.I turn off the coffee machine and top all the glasses with limoncello instead.The balls of ice-cream float and bob in the liquor, a pale concoction with the slightest hint of yellow.
‘Good call,’ says Dad as I carry them out.
