Page 5 of Giorgio

The gnocchi was excellent as usual, but he could not do justice to the meal. His father had tried to engage him in conversation several times but had given up after a few monosyllabic responses to his questions. The room had been designed by his mother, when she insisted on making family dinner an intimate affair.

That was one of the many reasons, he was feeling heavy and moody. He had the distinct impression that the man seated across from him had deliberately informed the kitchen to serve the meal in this room.

The light and cheery gold and blue décor was suddenly oppressive. He could feel his mother’s presence as if she was standing right next to him and rebuking him for his carefree existence.

“The meal is not to your liking?”

The question brought home the fact that he had been pushing the morsels around on his plate, with an evident lack of interest.

“It’s excellent as usual, Antonio has outdone himself.”

“But you are still mad at me.”

Giorgio spared him a glance and felt his irritation melting away. The old man only had his best interests at heart and truth be told, he was treated better than most.

He heard stories from his friends about how rigid their upbringing was and even now, they still had to bow to parental authority. His father had never exercised that kind of rigidity over him and for that he was grateful.

“I hate when we are at odds with each other.”

Alfredo’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he stared at the younger man. “Is that what we are?”

A smile creased his lips as he reached for his wine glass. “My anger has disappeared somewhat over the last few minutes.”

“It must be the meal.”

“Or the company and the room.”

His father’s smile faded as he looked around the lovely space as if seeing it for the first time. A melancholy expression touchedhis face, as memories surfaced. “Your mother had a knack for brightening up a room. When she suggested that this room be redone and remade, I was against it at first.”

“Why?”

His father shrugged. “I know her you see. She would get these ideas in her head about taking on a project and would not stop until it was at a point she deemed satisfactory.” A smile ghosted his lips. “And in case you have forgotten, your mother was a perfectionist.”

Giorgio shook his head. “No need for reminders. She was a stickler and incredibly hard to please.”

“When she started on this room, I tried to talk her out of it. I hired workmen behind her back so that she would not have to strain herself.”

“She ended up doing most of the work herself,” Giorgio mused.

“She would not allow our status to interfere with what she thought a family was supposed to be like.”

“I still recall her stories. She had such a musical voice and was so animated that I could hardly wait for the next one.”

“She loved you so much.” Picking up his wine, Alfredo took a fortifying sip, his mind crowded with happy memories.

“I miss her.”

“So do I.” Alfredo’s stared at his son thoughtfully. “You remind me so much of her. It is not just your looks, but your mannerisms as well. And how stubborn you are and willful.”

“If by that you mean I have a difficult time having people dictate to me, then I suppose I am indeed like her.”

His father did not return the smile, his face sober and contemplative.

“We had a love that is still living inside me. No other woman can ever measure up and I have stopped trying. I want something like that for you.”

Giorgio gave him a surprised look. “Surely you are not expecting such a thing with the woman you have chosen for me. Sofia is a sweet girl, but she is and will never be my type. I want someone who will not agree with everything that pops out of my mouth.

Someone with fire in her belly and of her own opinion. I do not want a lap dog papa, living with someone like her would have me running mad in just a few days.”

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