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I turned away and returned to my seat at the kitchen table, behind him.
“She doesn’t know that, of course, but I was seriously depressed when we met. My family had been destroyed, my father was in jail for what felt like forever, and Mother had abandoned me in a boarding school in the middle of winter, in rural Massachusetts, of all places. The school was prestigious, but the stillness and quiet of the countryside was enough to drive a New Yorker like me crazy.”
I inspected my nails. “I was suicidal, actually.” I paused there, waiting for his reaction. When I got none, I snuck a quick look at him. Face wiped of emotion, which couldn’t be taken at face value, I watched as he plated the egg, tomato, and pepper concoction from the hot pan onto two dishes. His head was canted to the side, as if he was listening carefully and didn’t want to interrupt.
I went on, “Suicidal thoughts, to be exact. I was in so much pain, but I couldn’t do that to my dad. He’d been through enough already.” I was too ashamed to tell him the entire story, a story that would’ve ended badly if it hadn’t been for Cat. “He was a man full of hubris. He had everything. He was handsome, charming, and clever, but he didn’t come from the kind of WASPy old-family money Mother came from. Although far from poor, his family hadn’t hoarded their wealth for generations like my mother’s family had. Not only did he strive to prove himself worthy, but he wanted to exceed her expectations. In the end, he found himself in a quicksand of financial disaster.” I paused. “And when he was caught, she dumped him almost immediately.”
I rarely spoke about my history. Only Cat knew the sordid details, and that happened over the course of several years, after she’d confided in me about her family. But that wintery day, in the middle of the semester, when Cat approached me at the cafeteria, boldly dropping her tray on the empty table in front of me, she’d thrown me a lifeline.
“He lost everything. Who would visit him on Christmas Day or his birthday? Everyone abandoned him. His wife, his colleagues, his friends, his family. He was a pariah,” I whispered quietly. “He still is.”
Suddenly, Nicu was down on his knees, my hands cupped tightly in his.
My eyes snapped to his.
Gaze fierce, he swore, “I will never abandon you. What happened to your father and you was wrong. Wrong. On so many levels, I don’t even know where to begin. That’s not family. Family sticks by you no matter what. What you do for your father proves you’ve learned that pivotal lesson. You could’ve easily turned your back on him, from humiliation, from wanting to escape the stigma of his tarnished name…but you didn’t. It’s a testament of who you are at the very core of your being. The fact that you sought solace in Cat’s traditional family is another example of what you’re unwilling to admit. Stop denying the obvious. You’re exactly like me: loyal and family bound. You are mafie.”
I twisted my head away.
“For whatever reason, you’re unwilling to see it, but I do,” he said, with a shake of his head. “There’s more than one way to be part of my society. It’s not only about being born into a clan, the way I was. What happened wasn’t worthy of you, but I have a family worthy of you. Believe me, some families understand the true meaning of allegiance. They take it seriously. They’d never abandon you. But there’s no need to go into that right now. I’m a patient man, and I can bide my time.
“Like baking bread,” he gestured to the perfectly toasted slices of bread on the table beside us. “It takes time to wait for the yeast to activate and the dough to rise. Bread must proof not once, but twice. I remember as a kid being amazed when Bunica would pull out the bread after a proofing and show me the risen dough. Your rise won’t be any less impressive.”
I was unwilling to see it because it was too scary to acknowledge. This moment in his kitchen, with a cup of coffee and a plate of food sitting on the table, steam rising and wafting a delicious fragrance my way, was perfect. He was perfect. His family seemed perfect. And yet, it was predicated on criminality. But it went even deeper than that. There was a frighteningly deep-rooted fear in me. My family had once seemed perfect as well, and look how it had imploded. I couldn’t risk my heart again. I just couldn’t.
Pursing my lips together briefly, I mocked, “You did not just compare me to a loaf of bread!”
“There is no greater compliment, baby girl. Bread may seem simple. It may be taken for granted by people today, but it is the staff of life. It’s been eaten by human beings for 15,000 years, and it’s essential. The French Revolution was triggered by the rising bread prices because the French couldn’t afford their baguettes. Do not underestimate bread.”
“Look at you, Mr. Philosopher,” I quipped.
Another smile broke out on his face, lightening the mood between us.
Getting on his feet, he pointed at the food. “Now eat up. I didn’t slave away at a hot stove for you to let it get cold. I may be patient, but I have yet to show you my surprise.”
My brows hit my forehead. “There’s more?”
“Oh, baby doll, there’s so much more.”
