Page 15 of Marcello

The thing hissed and rattled for 90 seconds until the cycle finished. A billow of steam escaped as she pulled open the hood.

The dishes were clean and dripping wet –

But now they had to be set aside so I could load a new tray full of dirty dishes. While the next cycle was washing, I was supposed to dry as many plates and cups as I could.

“Got it?” she asked.

“I think so,” I said, then pointed at the pile of dishes. “Is that all I have to do?”

“That’s all we have room for. Until now, we didn’t have a dishwasher. Once you’ve cleared those, I’ll have the bussers start loading the last shift’s dishes.”

I stared at her. “The last shift’s dishes?”

“Have fun,” she said as she walked away, then turned and winked at me. “I’m looking forward to that drink.”

I stared at the dishes.

If I made it through today…

I was going to need something a lot stronger than beer.

5

At 9 PM – damp with sweat, scalded by heat, hands raw from scrubbing pots and pans – I finally got to quit for the day.

The pizzeria wasn’t closed, though.

Oh no. It would stay open until midnight.

But Federica got off at 9, and she argued with Tommaso until he let me off at the same time.

“Unfortunately,” she told me, “that means you’ll have tonight’s dishes waiting for you tomorrow when we open.”

“Oh well… job security, right?” I asked with a weak laugh.

While I got a table outside, Federica grabbed two local Neapolitan beers from the cold case and popped off the tops. Tommaso yelled at her, she yelled back at him, and then she put a couple of euros in the register so he’d quit shouting.

When she walked over to me, I said, “I can pay for those.”

“Don’t be silly.” She put the bottle in front of me and plopped down in the other chair. “To your first day.”

I clinked my bottle against hers. “To you helping me get a job.”

I was so focused on the beer that I didn’t look at her when I said it.

Just as I was about to drink, she said flirtatiously, “Ah, ah, ah – gotta make eye contact or it’s seven years of bad sex.”

“Well, shit,” I said, and kept eye contact with her as I clinked bottles again.

She grinned. “Cheers.”

Then I took a swig.

God DAMN that’s good.

Under normal circumstances, the beer probably would’ve been just average – but I was exhausted and dehydrated, so it tasted like the nectar of the gods.

“Can we get something to eat?” I asked. “I’m starving.”