My Big Fat Fake Wedding - Lauren Landish Page 0,140
bed looking happier than they have been in nearly a week.
“Violet, come here honey,” Papa says, waving me over as he pats the bed next to him.
Mom still hasn’t said much to me over the last few days, sticking mostly with Papa’s medical updates and some orders on what to do at Nana’s house, like ‘go by and water the plants.’ But right now, she seems to be in a better mood because she nods with a smile. She plants a kiss on Papa’s cheek and then she and Nana move to give me space next to him.
“Sit down. Your grandmother’s been filling me in on a lot of what’s been going on while I was taking a nap.”
“You weren’t taking a nap, Papa,” I remind him, worried he’s confused about what’s been happening. “You were—”
“I know, little one,” Papa says with a smile, rubbing my hand. His voice is so soft I can barely hear him, but the light in his eyes means so much to me. He’s not giving up, not yet. “But I’m not going just yet. I just wanted to pass along a little bit of advice, an old man to a young lady.”
“Papa, I’m so sorry.” I look from him to Nana to Mom, pleading with them for forgiveness.
“Don’t apologize for anything,” he says, patting my arm. “As for my advice . . . live your life, Violet. I love you, honey, but I am an old man. Regardless of whether I live one more day or one more decade, you can’t live your life for me. Go and find your happiness. That’s what I truly want. That’s what I wanted all along. Walking you down the aisle was never about it being the end of my bucket list but about it being the beginning of your life. I just wanted to see my little Violet grown up and happy. That’s all.”
The words take a lot out of him, and he’s wheezing a little at the end. “Stefano?” Nana says carefully.
He smiles and holds up a hand, letting us know he’s okay.
“But . . . wait,” I reply, starting to argue before something he just said hits me. “What’s this about a decade?”
Papa taps his chest, tracing over the scar I know is hidden by his hospital gown. “That’s the good news, too. Dr. Lee said that I was a textbook patient on the table. He said that with my new hardware, if I’m good and listen to Angela” —he looks at her lovingly— “I’ve maybe got a few more years in me. No promises, of course, but we’re never promised tomorrow. But it’s enough hope that maybe I’ll give up a few things, and lead a bland, boring life of ease. Except for lasagna. They can pry that out of my cold, dead hands.”
I swat at his arm super-gently. “That’s not funny, Papa!”
“I was the one who almost died, so if I want to tell jokes about it, then I will. And no granddaughter of mine is going to stop me.” He smiles, and I can’t help but return one, even if the reminder still hurts.
Papa lies back and closes his eyes. “Tell me what happened. All of it . . . from that figlio di puttana to your Ross.”
Mom gasps, “Dad!”
My Italian is excellent and fluent, but that’s not an expression I’ve ever heard Papa say. I look to Mom in confusion and whisper, “What’s that mean?”
Nana chuckles. “Mmm, my English curses are not the best, but something like son of a . . .”
Mom interrupts. “Motherfucker. Your grandfather just called Colin a motherfucker.”
Nana exclaims happily, “Yes, that’s it!”
I can’t help but laugh, and it feels good. Papa is awake and going to be okay, my mom and Nana are sitting with me, and we’re all smiling. It’s everything I wanted . . . almost.
I tell them the whole story—how Ross and I ended up faking an engagement and wedding, how Colin came crawling back and I’d told him to get lost, and how I fell in love with Ross. For real. But now it’s all in ruins.
“Oh, Violet,” Mom says, tears in her eyes as she hugs me to her. I let myself get wrapped in her arms like when I was younger, even if I’m taller than she is now. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Mom.”
Nana throws her arms around us, sobbing out. “I’m sorry too.”
I look at her through blurry eyes. “What are you sorry for?”