Adriana Trigiani - Very Valentine

“Why?” She doesn’t answer, so I go in. Mom follows me.

Sitting on the bed, next to Gram, holding her hand, is Dominic Vechiarelli. I must look like I’ve seen a ghost, because I gasp and all eyes land on me. But it’s true, there’s proof, Dominic’s suitcases are propped next to the visitor’s chair.

My father stands at the foot of the bed. He motions for Mom to join him. Dad puts his arm around her. Roman stands next to him, wearing jeans and his work clogs. I only look down at them because as he sways from foot to foot, I hear the squish of the plastic.

As my eyes drink in the roster of visitors, I see Gianluca. I try not to have a reaction. He looks more handsome in America than I ever remember him in Italy, and younger, wearing a leather jacket, a sweater, and faded jeans. My throat closes at the sight of him, but for now, I will blame the dry hospital air. Pamela and Alfred stand away from the bed, by the window.

“What, what is going on?” I say softly. I grip the bag of food I’m holding because, in this room, it’s beginning to feel like the only thing that’s real.

Mom puts her arm around my shoulders. “Dominic flew over when he heard Mom was in the hospital. Evidently, Ray Rinaldi is instructed to call him anytime Gram is ill or in need of…something.” Mom looks at me, confused. She doesn’t know about Dominic, and now, suddenly, she finds out that Dominic Vechiarelli is the first name on Gram’s emergency contact list.

“And, um, you’re here…,” I stammer when I look at Gianluca.

“I flew with my father. I don’t think it’s wise for him to travel alone,” Gianluca says, keeping his eyes on Roman.

Roman’s eyes narrow as he looks back at Gianluca. He’s got a hunch this is the man I kissed. But he’s above his suspicions when he says, “And I brought Gram panna cotta, because she likes the way I make it.” He buries his hands in his pockets and looks at me.

“Now that Valentine is here, I can ask Teodora something I have longed to ask her since the summer. Please, everyone, come in,” Dominic announces.

“There’s no room,” Tess chirps from the doorway.

“Please, everyone, squeeze,” Mom says. “We’re a big Italian family, togetherness is our thing,” she announces, as if to apologize for the cubicle-size rooms in this city hospital. The group shifts to accommodate my sisters and their spouses.

Dominic takes Gram’s hands and looks into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

The room is completely quiet save for the beep of Gram’s heart monitor.

Then, my mother blurts out, “Dear God, Ma, I didn’t even know you were dating.”

“For ten years. Since your father died,” Gram says softly.

“You mean I could have been happy for you for ten years and you didn’t tell me?” Mom wails. “Honestly, Ma!”

“Mike, for God’s sake, be happy for her now, ” my father says. “Look at her. Her head was cracked open like a coconut and she can’t stop smiling. This is a good thing.”

“Let her answer,” I interrupt. I hold my breath. A yes from Gram means the life I cherish will be over. I’ll lose her to Dominic, the hills of Arezzo, and the isle of Capri faster than I can say Gianluca . But the truth is, I love her so much, I want her happiness more than my own. I cross my fingers for a yes.

“Yes, Dominic, I will marry you,” Gram says to him. Dominic kisses Gram tenderly.

My family, including my mother, sort of freeze upon hearing the word yes, as if they’re watching a pot of oil pretzels explode on the stove. It’s up to me to soften the shock of it all. After all, I knew.

“Congratulations!” I go to her and put my arms around Gram, careful to avoid the IVs in her arm. “I’m so happy for you.” Tears fill my eyes, but I am truly filled with joy for my brave Gram who is showing me, even in this moment, how to take a risk, how to live.

I feel my sisters and brother gather around me.

Jaclyn begins to cry. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend either! I wish everyone would stop protecting me. I can handle it.”

Mom mouths postpartum to Gianluca as she takes Jaclyn in her arms. Tess embraces Alfred as Dad reaches out to Dominic to shake his hand. Dominic leaps to his feet and embraces Dad instead.

“Pop?” Dad says to Dominic, then looks at us and shrugs. “Everybody say hello to…Pop.” My sisters and I laugh. Soon, everyone is laughing. The whole family.

I believe it’s fair to say that when things fall apart in my life, they do so in every way, so fate is assured that I have learned my lesson. There is only one place I could go to collect my thoughts and make sense of what Gram’s new life will mean for all of us, and I’m here, high above the fray, on our roof.

I slipped out of the hospital, leaving Gram to celebrate her engagement with the family. I walked Roman out, who had to return to the restaurant, but was honored that he was present for Dominic’s proposal. He kissed me on the street, inspired by the love he’d seen in room 317.

There’s a traffic jam on the West Side Highway, a clutter of cars at the intersection, flashing lights, horns, some barely audible angry shouts, and instead of wishing the city noise would be quelled, I wish there was more to drown out the thoughts in my head.

The sight of my newly betrothed Gram in her hospital bed signaled the end of an era. Forget the fact that I’m now the only unmarried woman in my family, it appears I’m also the only sensible one, who knows what all this change means, for now and for the future. Here’s the truth of it all. Gram will marry and go. My sisters will raise their families. My mother will make certain that my father eats soy cheese on whole-wheat pasta because that’s her guarantee that he will live and avoid a recurrence of his prostate cancer. My brother, as soon as the champagne toast is cheered at Gram’s wedding, will put a for sale sign on 166 Perry Street, leaving the Angelini Shoe Company, and me, homeless. It would appear all will be well for everyone in my family, except of course, for me.

The sun sets deep into the haze over New Jersey, making a lilac stripe on the horizon. The wind snaps the roof door behind me. I don’t turn to see that it’s just the wind, rather, I keep my eyes on the Hudson River that has the smooth swirls and purple hues of carnival glass as the sun sets.

“Valentina?” a voice says from behind me.

“Unless you’re Salvatore Ferragamo with a job or Carl Icahn with a check to save this shoe company-go away.”

Soon there’s six foot plus of pure Italian man standing next to me. If I close my eyes, I would know for certain it was Gianluca Vechiarelli from the clean scent of cedar and lemon and leather. If I were my mother, or one of my sisters, I would throw myself into his arms. In despair, they like to lean on a man. But I don’t. I cross my arms over my chest and take a step away from him, leaving plenty of room for him to view the expanse of lower Manhattan from our roof. “You can stay in the purple bedroom. Your dad can stay in Gram’s. The bathroom is at the end of the hall, but you know that because you had to pass it to get to the steps to the roof.”

“Thank you. But we are staying at a hotel. The Maritime,” he says.

“That’s unnecessary. You’re family.”

“You’re not pleased about the engagement?” he asks quietly.

“For her. For Gram. Yes. And for Dominic. Sure I’m pleased.”

“Va bene.”

“And you? Are you va bene for them?”

Gianluca shrugs and, pursing his lips, his mouth is a straight line. These are his noncommittal lips. I remember this expression from the Prato silk mill when I held up a perfectly lovely but evidently lame selection of duchess satin. “Yeah, well, you’d better get on the love bus, Gianluca, because they’re going to be living with you.”