Cassandra Behind Closed Doors. Linda Sorpreso

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СКАЧАТЬ not to tear the paper. Abby and Carla were staring at me intently, both wearing the same stupid grin on their faces. Impatiently, I tore at the rest of the paper. A navy blue T-shirt with matching shorts, a couple of R.L. Stine novels and the Wheel of Fortune board game I had always wanted. I couldn’t believe it. I loved the game show and had always wanted to be a contestant. Unfortunately, I was too young and too shy to audition. I may be good enough guessing at home, however I didn’t want to embarrass myself on television.

      “Thank you so much,” I said, hugging them both. “I love it.”

      “We thought you would since that’s all you’ve been talking about,” Carla said.

      “Thanks for listening to me for once.” They both chose to ignore me, giving out their other gifts. I began opening the other presents I had received, and then went into the dining room for dessert.

      The table was covered with a wide range of cakes: z uppa inglese, thick chocolate custard with teddy bear biscuits within each layer, tiramisu, savoiardi biscuits dipped in espresso coffee, spread with mascarpone cheese, lathered with whipped cream and grated chocolate sprinkled over the top and Carla’s lemon cheesecake, her speciality, it was smooth, creamy and the cookie crust just melted in your mouth. There were also a couple of large trays of biscotti topped with glazed cherries or almonds and an assortment of little Italian cakes; profiteroles and mini cannolis filled with chocolate or vanilla custard. Cakes were one of my downfalls, especially zuppa inglese and these miniature cakes. These cakes from the Italian pasticceria were to die for and I couldn’t resist them for anything. Not that I tried. They were very expensive, eighteen dollars a kilo, and were only bought for special occasions.

      Then there were the panettones. We had about ten of the light, dome shaped cakes, arranged on our bench at home that were given to us as Christmas presents by no other people besides wogs and Aussies that assumed we liked it because we were wogs. Definitely not true. While my family members might like panettone, I hated it. It tasted like a bumpy, rotten peel of an orange. Not that I had ever eaten one, nor expected to, however I didn’t think there would be much difference between the two. Besides, I hated sultanas and I would be spitting them out every two seconds. I know there are hundreds of others flavours but to me, a cake needed to have all of its trimmings. Sometimes it had to be smooth and creamy like a cheesecake and other times, it had to have custard, cream, icing, almonds scattered on top and with no fruit inside. Panettone was similar to a cake but without the good bits. It had no delight, no gooey bits, wasn’t as high in calories as some and my mentality was, that if you were going to fall down and splurge, why not go with a bang? Then you would have something to feel guilty about.

      I helped myself to a slice of zuppa inglese, grabbed some tiny cakes and sat in the lounge room with my cousins and Brayden. I felt uncomfortable around him now. When we said “Merry Christmas” to each other, I didn’t know whether to go for the kiss on the cheek, like we usually did or go for the handshake like you would do with a stranger or with people you didn’t like much. We just stood there; staring at each other awkwardly, then he stepped in and kissed me on the cheek.

      He was speaking to Sav across the room and I couldn’t help but stare at him. I wondered if he was feeling guilty about the kisses as I was or if he liked them as much as I did and wished we had gone further than just a peck. I couldn’t tell from his eyes or read his mind, though I wished I could.

      The minutes ticked by and before I knew it, it was one-thirty in the morning. The men were still outside while Mum, Zia Manuela and Nonna were in the kitchen, helping Tessa and Zia Sarina clean up.

      Brayden’s family had just left whereas Commare Rose and Commare Caterina had gone half-an-hour ago. I was so exhausted. My eyes were drooping lower and I could barely keep them open. Sophie was blabbing about her Christmas presents and I had tried to listen but my thoughts kept wandering to Brayden. I excused myself and found my mum putting dishes away in the cupboard.

      “Ma, are you finished? I’m about to fall asleep.”

      She nodded, closing the cabinet door. “Find your sisters and I’ll get your dad.”

      They were outside, sitting on the front step with Cynthia, Tom, Tony and his fiancée Megan. “Guys, we’re going now.”

      “What? Already?” Abby asked.

      “Yeah, it’s still early,” Tony added, brushing a hand through his hair. I tried not to laugh. Tony reminded me of Jordan from New Kids On The Block. Thick, puffy hair that was controlled by gel and hairspray and he had a gold stud in his left ear. Whenever I was around Tony, which wasn’t very often, I kept expecting the other members of New Kids On The Block to jump out and join him in a verse of Step By Step.

      “It’s quarter-to-two,” Megan said. Even though they were engaged, I was still surprised Tony had fallen for her. When he was younger, Tony was obsessed with Robin Wright and the singer Colette. Naturally, I expected Megan to have the long, blonde hair, blue eyes and see the push-up bra hanging out from her midriff when they stretched. Thank God, Megan wasn’t anything like that. She was the totally opposite — brown hair, brown eyes and when you talked to her, you knew she understood what you were saying. She was really nice and had the most beautiful hair. It was so long; down to her waist and I was jealous of it. I was hoping I would have it at her length some day, maybe even longer.

      “Shit,” Abby said, getting up. “I can’t believe it’s that late.”

      They came inside and we collected our belongings, waiting at the front door. Mum had Dad by the arm and was practically dragging him towards us. We said goodnight to everyone and walked outside.

      “Bye Zia,” I said, giving her a quick cuddle. “Thanks for tonight.”

      “Thank me for what?” she asked. “For your company? That I have to thank you for.”

      “Yeah right Zia. It’s us who are thankful for being with you,” I said. My Zia Sarina was one of the most remarkable women in this world and I loved her deeply. She may not have wings or a halo; however, she was the angel of our family who guarded, protected and fought for us. Zia Sarina would do anything for us or for any stranger. It was in her nature to be so caring to everyone. Drive, cook and lend money or advice, she did it all and never complained even when people took advantage of her. I couldn’t count the number of favours she had done for my family and me and continued to do daily. Zia Sarina drove Abby and me to school every day because Mum didn’t have her licence. We felt guilty and had offered her money but she brushed us off. That was my Zia though. She didn’t see the things she did as favours or chores; she did them out of love.

      The air was colder now and we were all shivering. I gave Zia a kiss and quickly walked to the car with Mum and my sisters. Dad was still at the front door, speaking to Zio Nico. He had the keys, so we couldn’t even open the car.

      “Dad, hurry up,” Abby screamed out.

      He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. She called out again.

      “Aspetta,” he said.

      “Wait a minute? It’s bloody cold,” Abby replied. He continued to ignore us.

      “Marcella!” Zia Sarina called out. “Did you take the dessert?”

      “No,” Mum said, shaking her head.

      “Wait, I’ll go get it.”

      “Don’t worry Sarina. I’ll get it tomorrow,” Mum said. It was too late. СКАЧАТЬ