Ren
He just sort of stares at me for a second in shock at what I've just said.
"Fuck off," he utters low in complete disbelief, "Lauren, why would you even think that?!" he hisses quietly, his eyes intense, but then he seems to calm himself. "There's no way. He lives in Italy," he finishes matter-of-factly.
"How do you know he still does?" Unphased by his reaction. "Your mom told you that a long time ago. Anyway, this isn't the first time I've seen him. I met this same man on my flight back from New York."
Wow. It makes perfect sense now, the look, the smile.
"He sat right next to me."I continue. "The whole flight, I wondered why he looked damn familiar—like I knew him and didn't know why. But it's because of you!"
Gio blinks and shakes his head, lost for words.
"The way he smiles... it's the exact way you smile! And his eyes...I didn't really get a good look either time, but I recognized them too. I saw your dad! He was having lunch at Misty's. He said he used to go there with his family. Gio, isn't that amazing? He said he's looking for his kids... he's looking for you!"
Gio was silent, his face expressionless.
"Gio... isn't that—"
"It's, it's a mistake," he says, interrupting me.
"How could that be?" I press. "Another Carlo with an Italian accent in Bayfield? Who was in the same roadhouse your mom practically lived at? Gio, you look like him... or at least you will."
Again, Gio looks lost. He starts to pace the empty dining room.
"Gio. Why can't he find you?"
He lays both hands on the counter. "I don't know," he says flatly.
"Are you going to try to find him?"
"No," he says calmly, but he is gripping the edge countertop, and his breathing is noticeable through his shirt.
"You're mad at him still?"
He raises his voice. "Of course, I'm mad at him still, Ren! He left us!" gesturing at me with his hands, but then looks around. "Ugh! Let's talk about this in the car. I don't want the landlady thinking we fight," he mutters.
I quickly finish off the form, and we exit the house. She is sitting on the front porch in the sun, waiting for us, and I hand her the application along with the deposit. We thank her for showing us the place and that we hope everything checks out. She says she'll let us know shortly. A thousand butterflies flap wildly in my stomach as I follow Gio back to his car.
He pulls out and gets back on the road, heading home. We drive for a while in silence, but Gio's practically grinding his teeth. I give him a bit to think about things before I ask anything more.
"So what happened... with your Dad? You've never really told me much," I finally venture.
Gio speaks without taking his eyes off the road. "I had only just turned six when he left, Ren. I don't remember a whole lot. Chiara was two, and Ben was thirteen. I do remember my mom struggling to take care of all of us. It wasn't fair! He went off to chase some dream of his, and we got stuck in Bayfield."
"Stuck in Bayfield? I thought you loved it there?"
"I love it now, but not at the time! It was supposed to be temporary! It didn't always have that addition out back. At first, it was just a tiny two-bedroom house—smaller than that house we just saw. Three kids in one little room. We used to live in a nicer, bigger house closer to San Francisco."
"What happened?"
"My mom said my dad always got big ideas. He had some kind of new big plan. He'd yell at me a lot. I remember him quitting his job. We lost a bunch of money, I guess. I remember my mom and him fighting all the time. He fucked off back to Europe, and we had to move. My mom said she'd get it all back. We'd move out of Bayfield, but... that didn't work out, obviously."
He heaves a long sigh. "I don't know. Part of me wants to see him, but another part of me, I don't know... I think I'd probably punch his lights out—for my mom. When I was little, I wanted him back so bad, but when I was, like, twelve, I wished he'd wind up in jail... or dead," he mutters quietly.
Again, he sighs. "I need to talk to my sister. Text her and ask if we can stop by." He digs his phone out of his pocket and throws it into my lap. I find her in his contacts, and Gio dictates a brief and vague message to her. She replies in the affirmative as we pull up to Hwy. 101, and he makes a right.
His younger sister Chiara or Kiki, as he used to call her, lives with her husband in a house in Mill Valley just north of San Francisco. On the way over, Gio tells me her husband, Dan, works for a big fancy tech company, and Chiara's a stay-at-home mom and still doing acting and modeling on the side.
After about forty minutes, we pull up to an unremarkable, single-story gray box of a house—one of three designs in their cookie-cutter neighborhood, a mirror image of the darker gray house next door.
My stomach is as tight and heavy as a cannonball, and I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans as we exit the car. I haven't seen his sister since the end of summer after high school when she had given me a death stare, and the mental image packs my belly with more fear. What if she still hates my guts?
Gio doesn't seem worried, though. He strides up to the house and rings the doorbell. There is a long stretch of silence before I hear someone at the door. As it slowly opens, I'm practically cowering behind Gio, bracing myself for the inevitable eye-stabbing I'm about to receive. But to my surprise, it's not Chiara who's standing there.
"Uncle Gio!!" a little boy's voice cries, and a small body runs straight ahead, practically bowling into his hips for a hug.
"Tony! Hey." Gio bends down to the blond little boy, who looks about to be about five or six and gives him a big hug. "How are you, Buddy?" But the boy doesn't reply. He pushes Gio away and immediately turns back into the house, screaming, "Uncle Gio's here!"
That's when I see her, a grown-up Chiara gliding toward me to answer the door. Her light brown hair waves effortlessly around her face, which is more angular now, setting off her high cheekbones and those perfect eyebrows like Gio's.
Crap. She's even more gorgeous than she was in high school! She must be twenty-six now or something. No wonder she's still a model—just look at her. Her body is absolutely phenomenal, and she's a mom too. Man, this family has good genes.
"Hi, Gio," she says, giving him a quick hug. "Hi, Ren," she smiles at me, and I see a bit of a twinkle in her eye.
What's that about?
But before I can overthink it anymore, she sweeps past Gio and gives me a big, warm sisterly hug. At first, it shocks me, but then I melt into it, and it puts me right at ease. Relief sweeps over me. "Come in," she says.
Her house on the inside is pretty similar to the outside, gray, gray, and gray. She even had gray leather sofas, but the floor and the tables are scattered with so many brightly colored toys it kinda livens up the place.
"Sorry about the mess," she says, noticing my eyes roving around. Why don't you two go in the living room, and I'll get you something to drink? Do you want water? Green tea?"
"I'll have tea."
"I'll just have water," Gio mutters.
Chiara floats off to the kitchen, and Gio's about to make space for us to sit on the sofa when he feels a little tug on his pants and turns around. Standing next to him, only as high as his hip, is the most adorable little girl with big hazel eyes and the most to-die-for cascade of light brown curls.
"Hi, Unca Gio," she says softly.
He swoops her up and gives her a big kiss. "Hi, baby girl! I missed you. I want you to meet someone very special ok?" She nods. "This is my girlfriend, Ren. Can you say hi?"
"Hi, Wen," she says bashfully, then tucks her head into Gio's neck.
"She's so adorable," I say softly.
"This is Angela. She can be pretty shy," Chiara says just as Tony shoots past her legs with a football, nearly knocking the two cups of tea out of her hands.
"Uncle Gio! Will you toss the ball with me? Please, please. Please, please, please!"
"Not this guy, though." Chiara's laugh rings out like little bells. "Tony's our little tornado."
"Maybe in a bit, Champ," Gio tells him.
"Unca Gio?" Angela asks, pulling on his ear.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
She looks at me suspiciously, then she whispers in his ear. It tickles him, and he scrunches up his shoulder reflexively.
Damn. It's so cute watching Gio interact with his niece and nephew! My heart is so full of love but aches so bad simultaneously. The unwanted sour sensation that is threatening to produce tears confuses me at first until I realize that this emotion is... jealousy. I can never have that with him, at least not with kids with both of our genes.
God, I want that sooo bad. Maybe even more than before. Look at him holding her.
But now there's a third feeling bubbling up—the icky, sick feeling of guilt, which slowly corrodes the joy, making me feel a bit ill in the pit of my stomach.
He'd be such a good father. How can I take that away from him?
He smiles widely at her and kisses her cheek, and the knife turns in my heart. He's only twenty-nine... what if he changes his mind? And then the most terrifying thought of all hits me like a shot to the chest: What if he eventually leaves me, too?
"I'll come see your room after I talk to your mom, okay?" She nods, then wiggles out of his arms and runs off to her room. Chiara sets down the tea and water on the coffee table, and we all remove some toys from the sofa and sit down.
"So," Chiara says. "What's with the surprise visit?"
"Well," Gio begins, picking at his nails, "Ren's pretty sure she saw Dad at Misty's today." He looks from Chiara to me. His face is sunken and serious. "She met this man on her flight to San Francisco, and they spoke briefly today. His name is Carlo, and his age, appearance, and accent all line up."
"Our dad?" Chiara chokes on a sip of her tea and coughs violently. "Excuse me."
"He told her he's been looking for his kids but hasn't seen them yet. I wanted to talk to you and see if you've heard or know something about it," Gio asks, narrowing her eyes at her.
"No! I don't know anything about it. Jeeze. You always think I'm hiding stuff from you. God, Dad's looking for us?!" Chiara repeats, still in disbelief.
"Why can't he find you guys?" I interrupt.
"Well, it would be hard to find Chiara because she's changed her name twice, once because of a stalker and once when she married."
"What?! What's your name now?"
"I go by Keira Taylor now, so people pronounce my name somewhat correctly."
"What about your older brother, Ben?" I ask.
"He's our half-brother—different father," Chiara clarifies.
"Babe, you never told me that!" I say, shocked. "I always wondered why he didn't have a more Italian-sounding name. But anyway, why can't he locate you?" I say, addressing Gio. "You haven't changed your name... but then again, I had no luck tracking you down on the internet."
Gio smiles, pleased with that piece of news. "Good."
"Sydney got your phone number, though..." I say, puzzled. "I still don't know how she pulled that off."
"Yeah, how in the hell did—"
"I gave it to her," Chiara cuts in.
"What!" Both Gio and I balk in unison.
"Yeah...uh, I guess I do keep this from you sometimes," Chiara admits, biting her thumb sheepishly.
"How?" I ask.
"Sydney and I have bumped into each other many times. San Francisco's theater world's not that big. The last time I saw her, we got to talking about you guys and how you were both single, and how good you guys were together back then. We exchanged phone numbers, and we sort of, um, set you up."
My brain buzzes with information overload. "But how'd I just happen to work in the same building as Gio's therapist?"
"Who got you the lead on that job?" Chiara asks.
"...Sydney," I confirm.
"Well, technically, I found the lead, but I gave it to her." Chiara smiles smugly. "I'm pretty darn proud of myself. Yet... I didn't know if you'd actually get that job or not—it's still all kismet, really."
"Hold on. You got Ren to apply for a job in the building you knew I'd be in and just hoped we'd run into each other and work it out?"
"We were prepared to take more steps to push you guys together if necessary. It turns out Sydney and I are both good plotters, and we knew you both needed each other."
"What if I hadn't been interested?" Gio fumes. "What if I had been together with someone else?"
"Pfft. Gio! You haven't dated anyone seriously in years. You just went on go-nowhere dates with the most annoying high-maintenance chicks possible to have an excuse not to call them back. You obviously never got over Lauren, and I just needed to fix that for you."
Gio looks like he's about to flip the coffee table. "Kiki! I can not believe—"
"Well, I'm glad you did," I interject, and Gio whips his head to me.
"Thank you, Ren. And you're both welcome." She shoots a sharp eye at Gio. "I mean, come on, look at you two. You're perfect together. And since Gio doesn't want to have kids because of his diagnosis...and you can't have kids anyway—Ren, I'm so sorry to hear about that, by the way." She reaches out to put her hand on my thigh.
"What diagnosis?" I say, looking at Gio.
"You haven't told her yet?" Chiara asks, stunned. "Giovanni!"
"Told me what..." I ask, feeling a chill run down my spine.
Gio is the one doing the eye-stabbing now. "Kiki!" he hisses.
"Tell me what?! What diagnosis?" I press him.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Is he sick... like his mom...
"Don't worry. I'm not dying or anything! Can we just talk about it later?"
"No! Tell me now. Right now!" I insist, and Gio looks like a deer caught in the headlights. "Come on! No more secrets!"
"Okay, okay. Well, it's um, I'm, I've just..." he scratches at his face and shoots another look at Chiara. "It's just that... I've not struggled with normal depression. It's a little more than that," he says, picking his nails and bouncing his leg at high speed.
"What? What is it?" I ask softer this time, feeling slightly relieved that it does not sound like the start of a cancer conversation.
"I, I'm..." He looks at me, and his jaw flexes, then he drops his gaze to his hands before clearing his throat and continuing in a low gravelly voice, "I'm bipolar."
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