Rock, Paper, Scissors

30: Like Father Like Son

After I washed the cloth Nick, I joined the others in the living room to find half of a pizza gone already. Naturally, I had to let them know how displeased I was that they didn't wait for us, and Tyler told me, with a wink, to be quicker next time.

"Let the party begin!" Micah announced.

"Well first," I said loudly. "Noah and I have a thank you present for you, Nick."

"You didn't have to," he said embarrassed.

"We did," Noah stated. "It's the least we could do, besides your job is not done, you have the help us for the rest of the year."

"Think of this as a thank you slash Christmas present from the both of us," I said giving him an envelope.

He opened and he froze at its content. "It's not much but it's enough to take your grandmother to the beach."

"This is too much guys."

"No, it's not, if we had to pay someone for tutoring us it would have been more."

"Thank you," Nick finally conceded with a glint in his eyes. Noah and I smiled knowing that the air miles we got him.

"By the way, I wanted to ask you guys something," Nick spoke, and we all looked at him curiously. "I'm going to see my grandma next week; would you like to come? She kept telling me she wanted to meet you guys. I usually drive there after school and come back Sunday night."

"I'd love to!" I said before adding that I had to ask my parents and I wasn't sure if they would let me since it was for a whole weekend far from home.

"I'll help you convince them, and you'll help me convince my mom," Noah suggested and I agreed.

We were already making plans about the trip, even though we didn't know if our parents would let us when we heard a cough coming from the hall. We all turned to see a middle-aged man standing there with a familiar stoic expression on his face.

"I didn't know we had people over, you could have told me, Nick," the man, whom I realized was Nick's father, spoke in a calm yet strong tone.

"I didn't realize it mattered considering you're never home," Nick bit back.

The man let out a weary sigh as if this was a common discussion between them. "Well, it does. I like to know when and who comes to my house. You could have called."

"As if you'd answer. Don't worry next time I'll leave a message to your secretary, or should I make an appointment?"

"Nick!" Mr. Belisario warned but was only met with a glare. He let out another sigh before telling us to be careful with the noise and wishing us goodnight, and he left the room.

"We can go if–" Micah proposed only to be cut off by a definitive no from Nick.

"You know what? Let's cook some cupcakes, I brought a mix," I suggested, trying to change the subject and atmosphere of the room.

We moved on to the kitchen and started making our masterpiece or should I say I started making the masterpiece while the guys were goofing around with kitchen cloths. I simply shook my head at them snapping each other with the cloths, while I mixed the preparation.

I took two of the baked cupcakes and put them apart knowing the boys would eat everything that I would put in front of them. I placed the rest of them on a plate and brought it to Nick's room where they played video games. We ate and when they were once again distracted with the game, I went back to the kitchen to prepare another plate with the two cupcakes I had saved.

I walked to the study; the door was half-opened, but I knocked, nonetheless. A surprised voice answered, and I walked in, the plate in my hands.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," I said carefully. "We made some cupcakes and I thought you might want some." I approached the desk to place the plate.

"Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you," Nick's father said with a weary smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself before, how rude of me. I'm Mark Belisario. I'm sorry for before, Nick's attitude sometimes gets the best of me." He extended his hand, and I shook it.

"I'm Julie Delgado"

"Are you from Mexican origins?"

I shook my head. "Portuguese actually. My grandparents moved to the US after they married."

"Oh, we're from an Italian family. It's funny, isn't it? If our ancestors didn't emigrate, we wouldn't have met. You'd be in Portugal and I in Italy, two different countries with no common borders, only a common sea."

"Maybe we would have. If I was in Portugal, I would've visited Italy for sure! I have a cousin there who paid like fifty dollars for a roundtrip flight to Rome. It was so cheap!"

"Did she like it there?"

"She loved it. She said it was beautiful, the only thing she didn't like was the service at restaurants. She said the servers were very rude, at least compared to other places she had been. And they also had some problems with the bus transportation. Other than that, she really enjoyed herself there."

"I've never been to Rome. My family is from the north, Arvier, not far from the Alps. Where is your family from?"

"My grandfather is from Azores archipelago and my Grandmother is from the continent, Vila Real, but most of my Portuguese family lives in Porto."

"I've never visited Portugal."

"I only went there once, when I was little. I don't remember much, but I can tell you that Porto and Azores are very beautiful."

"I'll keep that in mind in case an opportunity to visit the country presents itself," he said before pausing for a moment, pondering if he should or how he should say his next words. "How is Nick doing? I mean, I'm not very often home, I work a lot, but I know he's doing well at school, what I don't know is how he is with everything else."

"I can't really say much, he is very... guarded. But I think he is slowly opening up a little bit, at least that what it feels like."

Mark nodded. "He seemed to be enjoying himself today, he seemed happy... at least before he saw me... Anyway, thank you for the cupcakes and the talk. I think I needed that for the work ahead of me."

I understood it was my cue to leave, so I said goodbye and went back to Nick's room. None of them had noticed my absence, if they did, I'd just say I was in the bathroom, but I was glad I didn't have to lie. I don't think Nick would appreciate my friendly talk with his father.

While I waited my turn to play, I hovered around the room, trying to get to know and understand Nick better by studying every detail in it. The books he had stored on his shelves, the knick-knacks that decorated his desk; even the pen that was laying alone as if it was the object, he used the most and thus wasn't worth to store in its rightful place beside the other writing implements.

And I stood there, wondering what he was writing with that pen. Was it his homework? Songs about a lost lover, Rebeca, or maybe stories about fictional realms? No, he was too factual for that last one. Maybe he kept a journal in which he poured all of the feelings he didn't share with us. The only thing I know for sure is that he writes, and I could never gather the courage to ask him about it. He would probably be upset to know that I spied on him through his things.

I sat on the bed and looked at him, sitting on a beanbag, laughing when Micah went off course in the game. I looked at him and I smile, happy that he didn't let whatever happened with his father before bothering him. And I wondered what was going on between them, why did Nick hate his father so much when he seemed to be a lovely man working hard to provide for his kid. A man that wanted his kid to be happy and worried about the issues he might have. Issues he knew of since Nick's mother walked off on both of them.