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I take a deep breath, release it in small bursts, then bring the fork up to my mouth. I almost want to close my eyes. If I eat this, my stomach will revolt. It hurts. Everything hurts. I do it, though, because her small dark eyes are a little scary.
A small taste. Another.
“Good,” the old woman says, going back to her meal. “That is how we respect people who do not have food to eat.”
Maybe I nod. Maybe not. I’m too busy trying little bites of this and of that.
“You don’t have to eat it all, my girl,” Carine says, smiling at me. “We’ll save the rest for tomorrow. Lilo always kills leftovers.”
Michele grunts, digging into his food. Lilo glances at him but goes back to eating.
We’re all eating now, and I feel better. Like we’re just a family enjoying dinner. My stomach is still tight, but with each new piece of food, the chokehold around my throat is loosening. Carine brings up the bakery. About needing help. Michele says the guy I met earlier, Sebastiano, applied for the opening. He hired him.
A loud ringing, like a plate being hit, makes me turn and look. Carine does, too. Lilo. He stabbed something on his plate so hard, it sounded like it cracked. I look at Michele, but he’s busy with his food. Either he didn’t notice, or he doesn’t care.
That’s when I feel it. A tension that stretches from father to son from across the table. I don’t have long to dwell on it because Michele asks me a question.
“No,” I answer him, shaking my head. “I don’t have a job.”
Carine smiles. “Would you like one?”
“At the bakery?”
“Yes! I think it’s a great idea. If you’re interested, we can make it work. We can keep you busy here, between our music sessions and learning the ropes of the business. Then, before you know it, you’ll graduate and do something great with your life. You have so much potential.”
Michele nods. He seems to agree. But I look between him and Lilo again. I’m missing something, because whatever it is, they’re not hiding it. I’m at the center of it, though. They’re both waiting for me to say something. It’s almost like they’re waiting to see what team I pick—his or theirs.
“Ah…” I pick up my glass and take a sip. “I’ll talk to—Sonny. My dad.” I say that because when I said his name, Lilo narrowed his eyes at me.
Carine and Michele both nod. But I know Carine does it out of politeness, or maybe something else. She knows the deal with Sonny. I’m sure Molly has told her something. Or else Carine wouldn’t have agreed to “help” me. She only takes “troubled kids.” That label doesn’t sit right with me, though. Okay. I have an issue with food, but I do eat. Even if only chocolate.
What’s so troubled about that? I’m pretty sure I’ll outgrow it. I just need time to fix whatever’s eating me up inside. The source of that has left, so…there’s really nothing left to do but try to deal with it.
I feel it when the tension leaves Lilo. I don’t know how, but I do. Maybe because it seems to leave me, too. My answer—pleased him? I feel his eyes on my face as I eat. That seems to please him, too. I look up from my plate because I need to see him. I can’t seem to control it.
“Enough?” he asks when our eyes meet.
“Ah.” I wipe my chin and smile a little. I take the last piece of bread on the first plate. It’s the best bread I’ve ever had. I kind of remember eating it before, but not since…she left. I put it back. “Yeah. Thank you. Everything was so good. That’s the best bread I’ve ever had. But I’m so full now, I might explode.”
Carine laughs. Her mom says something about saving it for Lilo, since he made it. Michele looks at me, like he’s studying me now.
My eyes ping back to Lilo.
He nods at me and picks up his glass. Then his eyes straighten and land across the table. Father and son are looking at each other again. Having a silent conversation. It seems heated, but I could be wrong. I get the feeling it’s about me, though, and I’m not sure why. I really have no clue what’s going on between them.
I stand, ready to go. The overload of food has me feeling queasy. I haven’t eaten that much in…I can’t even remember. The day she left, I was sick, and I’ve been sick ever since. What makes me feel even worse is that my heart tugs. It wants to stay in this house. With the food. With the atmosphere. With the sweetness of his mom. With the safety I feel from his dad. Even his grandmother. She cares enough about people to respect their suffering.
It stops pulling when Lilo says he’s going to take me home.
It’s not the house but him.
That can’t be good.
He has trouble written all over him. I should be afraid of the bitterness. Of the hurt I know it can cause. But when he’s close, all I can think of is sweetness. Like the first bite…the first taste of…euphoria.
After I thank his parents, his grandmother, for having me, he takes my hand and leads me outside. But not before he grabs a set of keys hanging from the door and uses them to open an old delivery truck parked on the side street. Valentino’s is painted on the side. Italian colors—green, white, and red—are proudly displayed inside the name.
The interior smells like bread and baked goods. My stomach rumbles. It can’t handle another bite. He looks over at me but says nothing. We bounce against the cracked leather seats as he handles the streets with ease.
