Page 23 of Tammaro DeLuca

Igot up early and made the only breakfast I knew how to make–grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I topped mine with syrup and waited for the bait to be caught. Soon after, Asmaria came downstairs. Shocked to see me, she turned on her heels to retreat to her room.

“Actually, I hoped we could talk.” I interrupted her plan to leave.

“Why now?” She asked.

“Because I’m in a better headspace than I was yesterday.” I admitted to her.

She turned back around to regard me. “Fine. What happened to your face?”

“I got into a fight with your uncle.”

“I don’t have any uncles.”

“You do. You have two, an aunt, and a cousin. Well, two aunts because Beni just got married and they're expecting a baby soon.” I filled her in.

“Grandparents?” she asked.

“My mother passed away last spring. My father died a few months ago.”

“Sorry…” she said.

“Me, too.”

“Why’d he hit you?”

“We fought because I was disrespectful to his home. I deserved it. But I was upset because of how much I didn’t know about you and your mother. I’ve missed out on a lot and it made me angry.”

“At us?” She asked.

“No. At myself, my father, and I suppose my mother as well. An argument between them all those years ago prevented me from knowing about you. Part of me wishes that they would have kept me out of their drama, you know?”

“Obviously. I heard you and my mom arguing last night. I’m trying to figure out why you’re still standing. She leaves nobody with any dignity when she’s finished saying what she needs to.”

“That’s because she never said what she needed to. She obtained all the information she needed, but I don’t think she’s processed what’s happening. It wasn’t her idea to move here to be with me. I came out of nowhere and imposed what I wanted on here.”

“The way your parents did with you?”

I nodded, not liking that bitter truth. I got the feeling that she’d get along with Martina just fine. How would we fare, though?

“Now, I have to go back and fix all the holes in my plans with the two of you in mind. I didn’t mean to disrupt your life. Finding out about you suddenly forced me to look at what I was doing. It wasn’t a good feeling, so I took space to figure out why such a wonderful moment felt so damn ugly.” I admitted to her.

“And now?” She asked.

I saw every fucking fear she had, as she wore it like armor. It wouldn’t protect her or make anything better. I knew from her expression that my next words were going to make or break our relationship. As much as I wanted to plan and map them out so that they were perfect, time wasn’t on my side. She needed a response right now, the same way that her mother did last night when I was in her room. She needed reassured.

“Now, I know I want to protect you from the world. Love you like only I can. More importantly, I want you to know how sorry I am for everything. I should have never walked out, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around what was happening. Doesn’t make it right. But my plan was to try again this morning.” I slid the plate in front of me to her with the bottle of syrup. “Try it.”

She did, and rewarded me with a “hmm”.

“It’s pretty good. I’ve never had a grilled pb&j.”

“It’s something my mother taught me to make. I can’t cook a lot of things, but what I can make, I do well.”

“Like?” She walked around the island and opened the refrigerator to get a glass of milk and then she was back, sitting at the island and listening to me.

“Mostly hot sandwiches. Some skills that you learn can apply elsewhere. She taught me how to make these and I realized the grilled cheese sandwiches were the same. Then the sky was the limit on those. My mom’s signature soup. I can also make very basic spaghetti. Sauce and noodles. I’ve never conquered the meat part.”

“Then we can make dinner together sometime. I’ll make meatballs and garlic bread. You can make a salad, right?”

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