Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I only have to sit for the bar exam, and then I’ll officially be a lawyer. I have almost two months to study, and I’m ready to get started. But my father insisted on celebrating prematurely. I would have postponed the festivities, but you don’t just say no to my father.
So here we all are, tucked away in a booth in a family restaurant. My dad and Uncle Gio are telling stories about me growing up.
“He couldn’t run, this one,” Dad says, hooking a hand around my neck. He’s rough, even when he’s being friendly.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, hoping to calm him down a bit. “You don’t have to give Marlena the play by play.”
“I took him to little league one time,” Dad continues, ignoring my protest. “He’s running the bases, and I can see that he’s leaning into his heels a bit too much.”
“Dad,” I complain.
“So I go to the coach, and I say, ‘Hey, what about my kid? Can’t you teach him how to run?’” Dad says, giving me a wide smile.
I give up and lean into the joke. He’s trying to tell me he loves me in the only way he can, by pointing out my faults. That’s something I realized not too long ago. When I was growing up, I thought there was no way I could please him. Now I understand that when he’s being the most critical, that’s also the time when he’s the proudest of me.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, raising my glass.
He looks at me strangely, as if he doesn’t quite realize what he’s doing. It’s probably the same way his father treated him. I don’t mind so much now that I understand. I glance over at Marlena, and I can see she gets it. She knows we share an unbreakable bond.
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. Only Uncle Gio isn’t amused. He’s like my father in that he has a hard time expressing his affection. I know he cares. Sometimes he’s easier to talk to than my father. But they both grew up together in the same house, so they have some of the same hangups when it comes to communicating their actual feelings.
Hopefully, now that I know what it looks like, I can avoid that kind of thing when I become a father. If I ever become a dad. At the moment, I don’t have any prospects, and it doesn’t seem likely I’ll fall in love any time soon. My family is a lot to handle, and I wouldn’t want to introduce a woman to them without first explaining the family business.
“I haven’t even passed the bar yet,” I say.
“You will,” my father assures me.
I like his attitude. He doesn’t see anything as off-limits or outside of his control. Whatever he wants, he gets, and that’s a big difference between us. I saw Marlena first. It’s a little strange that she ended up marrying my father, since she’s really just a few years older than me. We’re more friends than we are stepmother and stepson, but we make it work.
This whole dinner thing could be awkward, but it feels comfortable. We’re all joking and drinking, having a good time, even though there’s a lot going on. I tell myself that I need to enjoy this, because who knows when life will slow down enough for us all to get together again.
The food arrives and we dig in. My father decides to tell one of his stories about his grandmother. “She had the perfect way of making pasta,” he says.
I’ve heard this story before, but I don’t interrupt him. You never interrupt my father, the Don, no matter what he’s talking about. We take a journey to the old country, where he compares the food he grew up eating with what’s being served today. There’s always something that’s not quite right, whether it’s the amount of salt or the ripeness of the tomatoes.
“I think it tastes good,” I say.
My father shrugs. “To each his own.”
Marlena gives me a smile, and I can tell that she’s not going to weigh in with her opinion. Uncle Gio pours himself another drink, and we finish the meal in silence. By the time we’re ready to leave the restaurant, I’m grateful for the chauffeur. Not only will we stay legal, but nobody has to concentrate on the road. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that Marlena hasn’t been drinking, but I forget about it soon enough. I just feel lucky to have a family who cares about me, and grateful that my law school days are behind me. Now all I have to do is study my ass off and hopefully pass the test that will allow me to practice in a courtroom. If I can do that, then I can really offer something to the family beyond my good looks.