Page 34 of Better Than Gelato
Sofia’s eyes widen in surprise, then her whole body relaxes. She looks at me with an expression of relief and mouths “Grazie.”
After I put Isa to bed, I call my mama. I feel like I haven’t talked to her in ages.
“Buon giornomy glamorous daughter!” my mom says as soon as she picks up. My mom hardly ever speaks Italian, even though she grew up hearing my grandparents speak it. “Tell me everything about your Italian life!”
I fill her in on Isa and the food and my new friends. I leave Jake out of it.
My mom gives me updates on the fam.
“Brad gets his next assignment any day now,” she says. “They’re hoping for something overseas.”
“That would be cool,” I say.
“Brianna is coming to visit next week.”
My older sister Brianna married Tyler five years ago and has been unhappily married for five years. She lives in Arizona and visits my parents a lot.
“Have you registered for your classes for next year?” my mom asks.
“Yep. I emailed my schedule to Sharon this week.”
“Did you pick some classes you’re excited about?”
A Venn diagram of my schedule for next year and the ten classes that put college students to sleep would be a perfect circle.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s going to be great.”
And that is how you lie to your mother.
“I miss you,” my mom says.
“I miss you too.”
“But I’m so happy you get this special year,” she says.
“Me too.”
The last happy year of my life.
* * *
“Marco! Your hair!” I say and hold up the photo. Marco’s tuxedo is perfectly cut, and his wild curls have been slicked into submission for the day.
“It was a one-time feat,” Marco calls from the kitchen, “and it required more gel than you could possibly imagine.”
Isa helped me choose a great outfit to go out dancing tonight, but then we got distracted by the Rossis’ wedding album. The photographer did an amazing job. Each shot is perfectly framed, and the lighting makes them glow. There are some cool shots of the two of them in perfect focus and the wedding party behind them softly blurry.
I wonder what setting you use to do that.
My phone vibrates, but I ignore it. Marco and Sofia are preparing dinner but come out occasionally to provide commentary.
“Your dress is beautiful,” Isa tells Sofia.
“A friend of Daddy’s designed it for me. You like it?”
“So much,” Isa says and Sofia’s face lights up.
My phone vibrates again, and I finally take a look. It’s from Jake. So was the last one.
