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I prance into the kitchen, but my smile whips off my face when I see Maria behind the kitchen island, instead of Evelyn, cooking.
“Hey, Rose,” she smiles at me and keeps stirring what she is making.
“Maria,” I look around, “Where is Evelyn?” I clear my throat.
“I'm bad company, huh?” She chuckles.
“I'll just go look for her,” I turn to leave.
“Why? I told her to take the afternoon off, I want to make lunch for my family, and since you are…” she points at me with her spatula, “whatever you are, it includes you.”
No way I'm eating what she is cooking. Even if she serves me and Benedetto in the same bowl, I don't trust my spoon not to be poisoned. Or maybe I'm just paranoid, but why wouldn't I be? This is Maria, and up until now, she has successfully shown me Iam nothing but another piece of furniture in this house. And she is married to Claudio.
I turn back to her, “I'm not hungry,” I smile, “Thank you for offering.”
“Then sit, if you won't eat, you can listen to what I have to say,” she points at a seat with the damn spatula again, this time spilling some droplets of oil.
I puff and pull a stool out to settle on it. I rest both elbows on the kitchen island and hold my face with my interlocked fingers.
“I'm sorry I'm saying this now,” she says, “what Benedetto did to you that night was…” she clears her throat. “How are you, Rose?” She rests her palms flat on the kitchen island.
This isn't exactly how I pictured this to go.
I exhale sharply, “I'm doing better.”
“Claudio thinks there's an attraction between you two that will be good for him,” she lowers and rests on her elbows now, “I might be seeing what he sees too,” she nods to herself. “You have my blessing, but just take him away from here, this is no place for him and I will rather have him despise me and be away, than be here and get killed or caught in a crossfire,” her eyes water. “He is the most precious thing in the world to me,” she smiles sadly. “My precious boy,” she sniffs. “Whatever this is betweenthe both of you, use it to take him with you because I know as much as you do that you hate it here.”
“Maria,” I smile sadly back at her, “It's not up to me, he has a mind of his own and…”
“Just try,damn it,” she grits and I flinch.
I didn't like her much, but hearing her now and seeing for the first time what might have been her reason for what she did, and the decision she made, I understand her. And it makes me long for something. Something I never had. A parent who cared enough about me to put my happiness first.
“I will try,” I do my best to reassure her, but evenIknow that's never going to happen.
“Thank you,” she exhales lazily, “I don't know what this is, but I picked up the recipe from a chef,” she looks at her pot, “I might have added too much carrot,” she shrugs.
“There's no such thing as too much carrot,” I try to cheer her up, “Why not serve it and I will take it to Benedetto,” I offer and she smiles widely.
“I love that idea,” she hurries to serve the meal of vegetables and shredded chicken in a large ceramic tray instead of plates, “Orazio is around and you will eat too. When it was just the three of us, Benedetto, his father, and I, we used to eat from one tray,” she picks up three forks and wraps them in a white napkin.
“Here,” she slides the tray of food to me and hands me the wrapped forks.
“Thank you,” I smile at her and walk with the food up the stairs to Benedetto and that annoying tag-along, Orazio. Or maybe Benedetto is the tag-along. There’s no way I'm accepting to be the third wheel here.
I walk into Benedetto’s quarter. It's a good thing his quarter has no door.
“My mother cooked?” he cocks his eyebrow, flipping his eyes between the tray of food and my face.
“Yes,” I walk further in.
He nods and clips the charcoal pencil he was using on the back of his ear.
Benedetto is in a corner, wearing dark blue sweatpants only, sitting on a stool and sketching on a canvas what looks like the curves of a woman. Orazio is reading, or pretending to read, a book. Whichever, good for him.
“Ratio,” I clip and he lifts his eyes from the book to look at me. I'm trying for normal so nothing looks suspicious to Benedetto.
“Hey, Rosa,” he winks, then his eyes drop to the food, “Hey, Rosa,” he chirps this time, standing up to get the tray from me.
