Thank you for reading my Saturday Story! Part 7 is below, but you can catch up on part 6 here (or start from the very beginning with parts 1-5 here).

I would love to know what you think, if you’d like to comment below.

Please check back next Saturday for part 8 of my first Saturday Story.

Give your life the green light. It’s A Go!

Amber Green

SATURDAY STORY: RAGS TO RICHES

PART 7:

To Riches:

Brunch was always an occasion.

Since we have unlimited funds now, the menu and our attire is vastly different than before, but we’re still very much the same family; we laugh and ensure that we make time to get together (albeit in far nicer homes).

Family meals have always been important in any Bruno household. When it comes to such priorities, our newfound wealth hasn’t changed us at all: the kids are loud; my brother is the first one to know about a family get together (my mom still enjoys cooking, so my brother ensures that he knows when she plans to make his favourites), but he’s always the last one there; my father has a couple too many; and, my mother will ask at least one of the three of us about more grandchildren by the time the meal is done.

A different time, a different setting, but the custom remains. Family is important. Money hasn’t shifted that priority at all.

……

From Rags:

I was sitting in the car with my sister, Priscilla, having just answered the phone to our brother, Chris. My heartbeat still hadn’t slowed from roadrunner-like speed by the time Chris returned my greeting.

“Hi,” Chris said.

From that sole syllable, I tried to determine whether or not he saw Priscilla and me drive away after we saw him in a moment of passion with an unknown man- whom we’d since nicknamed, ‘Mr. Mystery-Arms’- at the mechanic’s repair shop. “Uh- hey. Wh-what’s up?” I repeated, as Priscilla looked at me, quizzically. I shrugged my shoulders to let her know that I wasn’t sure- ‘hi’ was not enough to go on.

“Are you going to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow? They invited us to stay for brunch when I return the car in the morning.”

His tone sounded normal. I relaxed a little, and shook my head to let my sister know that he hadn’t seen us. Priscilla looked relieved.

“Uh- yeah. Priscilla, brunch tomorrow?” I asked my sister, while still on the line with Chris.

“Yeah, but we’ll have to leave early; the boys’ have a birthday party. Hi Chris!” Priscilla said.

“Hey, P,” Chris replied. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye,” I said, and ended the call.

I exhaled, and looked over at my sister.

“He didn’t see us,” Priscilla declared, confidently.

“It doesn’t sound like it, but that doesn’t mean that we didn’t see them. We have to talk to him.”

“I agree, but we don’t have to confront him right away.”

“I don’t think that’s the right word,” I frowned.

“Ask,” Priscilla corrected herself. “We don’t have to ask our younger brother if he’s gay just yet,” Priscilla said.

I rolled my eyes.

……

The next morning, I woke up blurry-eyed and still tired from the night before. I had had fun with some old high school friends (“I can’t believe how long it’s been since we graduated!” was the major theme of the evening), and saw my on-again boyfriend, Kevin, who thankfully was no longer talking about marriage (I don’t care that I’m in my thirties- I’m not ready), nor did he talk about breaking up. Stagnant may not be the correct thing to want from a relationship, but it is suiting me quite fine right now, thank you very much.

I slept as late I could. I quickly showered, dressed, accessorized with a flashy headband and my signature red lipstick, and headed out to my parents’ house.

……

Within 90 seconds of me  greeting my parents, my sister, her husband, Luke, and their three sons arrived in their well-travelled van.

The three boys yelled, “Hi, Auntie Franca,” as they passed me, and catapulted themselves into my father’s outstretched arms.

“Hi boys,” I smiled, “Hi Luke. Hi P,” I greeted my brother-in-law and sister.

“Hi,” they responded, in turn. “Ma, I have to tell you something,” my sister said, touching my arm in greeting as she looked past me to our mother who was working in the kitchen.

I looked at my sister who met my gaze, as I wondered for the briefest of moments whether she was going to say something to our mother about our brother’s secret. It took one-hundredth of a second for my sister to telepathically tell me, ‘No, what are you crazy?’ but that was enough for our mother to infer that something was up. (The drawbacks of being a close family is that it’s too damn hard to keep secrets; body language alone can give you away.)

“What is it?” Our mother asked. “Are you pregnant?” She asked Priscilla excitedly. (I’m sure she intended to be quiet, but sound carries in my parents’ house. I was quite sure that I heard Luke chocking on some fruit my mom had put out as a pre-brunch snack in the next room.)

“What?! No!” Priscilla answered. She looked at me, “Already?” She asked, motioning to our mother, “I just got here,” Priscilla said, looking back at our mother. “And I’ve given you three grandchildren, Ma. It’s Frankie’s turn,” she grinned. “I was just going to tell you that we have to leave early today. The boys have a party.”

“That’s fine,” my mother replied, “And we love the boys, dear, but you could always try for a girl.” (I had a feeling that my sister had tried for a girl two times before, but she would not say so. Not in earshot of her children, at least.)

“I know,” Priscilla said, clearly placating our mother.

“Help me bring the food out, would you?” My mother asked us, motioning to the platters of food she had prepared.

My sister and I helped my mother bring the food to the table, “Where’s Chris?” I asked.

My father (from the adjoining family room with his three grandsons) said, “Don’t worry, he’ll be here. He’d never miss brunch.”

He was correct. My sister just got her youngest settled, when Chris came through the front door.

“Hi Mom,” I heard Chris say hello to my mother, who went to greet him. “I brought my friend, Dave; I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not!” My mother replied happily, as she greeted Dave.

I looked at my sister, who met my gaze. My brother invited friends to brunch from time to time, but ‘Dave’ is not a name either of us recognized.

My brother and his friend entered the dining room, “Hi everyone! This is Dave,” my brother said cheerfully.

“Hi,” I responded, smiling. My family introduced themselves, as I compared Dave’s build to Mr. Mystery-Arms.

My smile, still frozen on my face, relaxed as I took a sip of coffee, and exhaled. I looked at my sister; her eyes told me that she, too, believed that the whole family was meeting Mr. Mystery-Arms, face-to-face.

………

Continue reading Rags to Riches: Part 8 here.

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© 2018 Amber Green