Free Looking for Alibrandi by Melina Marchetta

her voice. Not that it was so noticeable, but I know Mama’s normal voice so well that any change is noticeable. I stood up and looked in to see her holding a shaking hand to her head. He was rubbing his face as if to wipe away the problem. Somehow I knew I was the problem.
    “Just don’t come back here one day wanting to get to know your daughter, because you won’t be allowed,” she added quietly as I sat back down outside.
    “What does your mother know about this?” he said.
    I figured out that I was supposed to be the “this.” I had been called worse in my life, so I tried not to let it offend me.
    “She doesn’t know who Josie’s father is. Maybe I should tell her who you are, Michael. Then you’d really have something to be paranoid about.”
    I heard him sigh, and somehow I felt sorry for him.
    “What do you want from me, Christina?” he asked in a tired voice.
    “Nothing. All I can say is I’m glad that your family moved away, Michael. I’m glad you left me high and dry. I’m glad you were a coward, because if you hadn’t run I wouldn’t have a daughter today.”
    “So I’m a monster now?”
    “You’re the father of the person who is my life. You can’t possibly be a monster. I just pity you because you haven’t been able to share that.”
    “Do me a favor, Christina,” he said. “Don’t pity me. My life lacks nothing.”
    “Then go, Michael. Forget you ever spoke to me. Forget you ever saw her. You did it once. I’m sure you can do it again.”
    There was silence and then a sigh. I don’t know whose.
    “Do you need money?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I can set up a fund for her.”
    “I needed money eighteen years ago, Michael. Today I need nothing but peace of mind,” I heard her say in an angry tone.
    “It’s too late. Seventeen-year-olds don’t need fathers.”
    “Oh God, Michael. I’m thirty-four years old and I need a father. I can’t even begin to think of what my daughter needs.”
    I didn’t want to listen anymore. I walked back to the pool and sat on the side with my young cousin.
    Mama came out a few minutes later carrying a tray of coffee. He followed a few minutes later. That’s when I discovered the fourth member of our staring act.
    Nonna.
    I saw her look from Michael Andretti to Mama. Then she looked over at me. Her mouth was open in surprise and her eyes had narrowed, and at that moment I knew that she knew.
    Later, he went back inside.
    I don’t know what possessed me to walk in after him. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him either. He had poured himself a glass of water and was walking around the living room, where he touched the photo frames perched on the cabinet.
    Nonna’s living room cabinet is cluttered with photos of the family, including ancient ones from Sicily. I can hardly remember posing for the half a million she has of me.
    He looked up at the tapestry on the wall and then over to the other side of the room where there was another cabinet of ornaments. He touched everything he passed, almost like one of those people who test for dust. He sat down on one of the black leather chairs and closed his eyes.
    His hair was cut extremely short and around the ears. I suspected that if I took after him in the hair department he would have to keep it that confined. My type of hair on a man would look chaotic, especially on a barrister. He had dimples, which really pisses me off because my mother has high cheekbones and I’ve inherited neither. But he wasn’t smiling; the dimples were part of a grimace.
    It was his build that impressed me most. Because he was stocky. Not round or anything. Just very sturdy and no taller than five foot ten. But he looked so strong and I actually pictured him picking me up as a child and that really got on my nerves, because I didn’t want to picture him in such an affectionate way.
    “My grandmother doesn’t like people in the living room when she’s having a barbecue outside.”
    He looked around in