Page 126 of Better Than Gelato
Then one day, I get a text I can’t ignore.
We’re coming to a show in Las Vegas in December. Can you meet us there?
I text back right away.
Of course. I can’t wait to see you guys.
As soon as I hit send, my phone rings and Marco’s voice is in my ear a mile a minute.
“Ciao Julieta. I thought it was easier to call you and work out the details over the phone. I’m already committed to the show, which I’m having second thoughts about, but it’s too late to back out now. I haven’t bought tickets for Sofia and Isa yet. I wanted to make sure you’re available. They’ll be bored out of their mind with me in fittings all day.”
“Ciao, Marco, how are you?”
“Sorry,tesoro. I am doing fine. A little stressed. But otherwise, fine. How are you?”
“I’m doing well,” I lie. “Thank you.”
“Isa got theHarry Potterbook you sent. Very sweet of you. How’s school?”
“It’s going well,” I say honestly.
“And how is Jake doing?”
My response takes a beat too long. “We broke up, actually.”
“Oh,topino,” Marco says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah me too,” I say.
“Sometimes it works out that way,” he says. “Some love is like gelato.”
My brow dips in confusion. I’ve had gelato. This is worse.
He correctly interprets my silence as skepticism.
“Gelato is sweet and wonderful and fills you with happiness. And then it melts. It’s gone. You no longer have it. That doesn’t mean that what you enjoyed wasn’t wonderful, just because it didn’t last forever. That doesn’t mean your relationship wasn’t real just because it ended. You enjoyed it for a time. And now that time is over.”
Huh.
“Thanks, Marco. I’m definitely available in December. Just send me the dates, and I’ll be there.”
“Perfect. I’ll get those to you today.Ciao ciao.” And then he’s gone, and I’m left thinking about love like gelato.
* * *
The first time I laugh, it startles me so much I jump a little. I’d forgotten what that sounded like. I’m in my Italian class and the kid next to me just said, “My greatest goal in life is to be an avocado.” I’m pretty sure he meant lawyer, the words sound similar in Italian. I picture a ripe avocado wearing a little suit, and I can’t help laughing.
I get a couple of weird looks. The girl who’s been coming to class depressed for the last month just laughed out loud. I think word spread that I got my heart broken by an evil Italian man. The truth is even sadder, so I let that rumor go unchecked.
When I get to Jamba Juice, Manager Mike is waiting for me.
“Hey, Mike,” I say.
“Hello, Juliet,” he says. “Can I speak with you before your shift?”
“Sure.”
Kevin by the blender mouths “you’re in trouble.” I follow Mike to the back room, which is ten degrees colder than the rest of the store. He’s not much for chit chat, which I appreciate.
