Page 72 of Better Than Gelato
“Ask her if she’s really the little girl you nanny.”
I translate for Isa. She narrows her eyes, then shows my mom our special handshake to prove that yes, she is the girl I nanny.
Marco makes us chicken marsala and tells my mom kind things about me. “She’s a wonderful nanny. A very happy presence in our home. We’re lucky to have her.”
My cheeks heat, but it makes me feel good.
“Are you excited to seei nonnitomorrow?” I ask Isa. The Rossis are using Isa’s spring break to visit Marco’s parents.
Isa makes a face. “It’s going to be so boring! There’s nothing to do in the country!”
“There’s plenty to do,” Marco says. “You can ride bikes. And…” He pauses and looks at Sofia for help.
“Climb trees,” she contributes.
“Trees are the worst,” Isa says.
She’s still whining when we put her to bed a few hours later.
“She’s not so bad,” my mom says when we head back to my room.
“We’ve come a long way,” I say. “Six months ago, she would have lit something on fire.”
* * *
The next morning, after the Rossis have left, my mom and I take the train down to Rome and spend four days exploring. We visit St. Peter’s and Michelangelo’s Pieta, admiring the exquisitely sculpted folds of Mary’s gown and the protruding ribs of Jesus as he lays across her lap. We take a tour of the Vatican and lay on our backs gazing up at the Sistine Chapel, getting lost in its beauty and complexity.
We walk through the Castel Sant’Angelo. If we hadn’t just gone through St. Peters and the Vatican, the castle would be a lot more impressive. But we did, and it isn’t.
We spend a long time at the Colosseum. The thick walls muffle the sounds of traffic and vendors, making it feel like ancient Rome. I take a million pictures, but none of them quite capture how it feels to be here. We visit the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, Le Boca de la Verita, and the Circus Maximus, which we rename the Suckus Maximus, because it kind of sucks.
Trevi Fountain is my favorite. I have no idea what’s happening or what all the different pieces are meant to represent. But the feel of it, all that water tumbling and cascading down the white rocks and statues, is captivating. I take a dozen pictures of its chaotic beauty.
“This trip has been perfect,” my mom says on the train ride home. “The photos you’ve sent us are incredible, but there’s something about seeing it yourself, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I agree.
“I know you’ve been taking pictures since you were a kid, but seeing you here with your camera, it’s clear how much you love it. Have you ever thought about majoring in photography?”
I look at her, surprised and guilty. “Who would take over the store from Dad?” I say, hoping she can’t hear my heart pounding.
“We’d figure out something,” she says.
“How?” I press. “You were barely able to get away to come on this trip.”
“That’s true,” she says.
“Besides, I already registered for all my business classes.”
She looks at me for a moment. “You’re a good daughter,” she says.
“You can say favorite. I won’t tell the others.”
“I think they already know,” my mom says, and her expression looks so guilty I laugh.
ChapterSeventeen
Aweek after my mom leaves, Jake shows up at the Rossis’ apartment in the middle of the night. Okay, it’s only 10:30 p.m., but I was reading in bed and drifted off, so when I get his text itfeelslike the middle of the night.
