Page 87 of Replay
“Never too much,” Nonno adds with a wink.
The party gets started and I’m quickly introduced to Santino’s zio Antonio and his wife, Belinda, who are the official owners of the store. Belinda inherited this large, historic building when her parents died.
Today, Antonio and Belinda still live in the flat above the shop while Carlotta, Bart, and Angela are in Santino’s childhood flat behind the shop with Nonno and Nonna one level below them. They all grew up within an arm’s length of each other for Santino’s entire life, and I find myself wildly fascinated with what that must have been like.
We return to the deli and have pasta, cake, espresso, biscotti, and a million other baked goods that Nonna keeps setting in front of me to sample. Nonno then gives me a tour of the supermarket and forces me to try all the cheeses and cured meats they have regularly shipped in from Italy. I’m so full from the fresh burrata that I fear Santino will have to roll me out of this adorable shop when we leave today.
However, my favourite part of all the sharing was when Carlotta showed me a photo album of her and Santino’s annual trips the past several years. It’s very nearly an album entirely dedicated to Santino. Images of him looking gorgeous on mountains, at restaurants, and in ancient cities. There’s even a photo where he’s getting a pedicure. It’s adorable, and that green tea face mask makes a lot more sense now. Carlotta beams with pride over the memories she’s made with her son, and I can tell she’s happy to be sharing those memories with me today.
“Angela, why don’t you help me clean up,” Antonio says, standing up and adjusting his trousers.
Belinda jumps up to help as well. “Oh yes, look at the time. We’ll have to open up for dinner soon.” Angela rolls her eyes but still gets up to help, along with Bart.
“I can’t believe you closed down the deli for this,” Santino says, fiddling with one of the balloons in the middle of the long table we’re seated around.
“You only turn thirty-seven once, love.” Carlotta presses a kiss to her son’s head before grabbing his coffee mug off the table. “And you never come here for your birthday, so we had to do something!”
“Why don’t you like to celebrate your birthday?” I ask, nudging him with my elbow.
He shrugs his shoulders dismissively. “I’m too old for birthdays.”
“Hush,” Nonna says, waving him off as she stands up to grab a few dishes. “Your life is a blessing and deserves to be celebrated.”
“I fully agree.” I squeeze his hand encouragingly. He’s been tense the entire time we’ve been here, but his eyes always soften when he looks at me. “Now, please tell me who that gorgeous child is in that photograph.”
I point at a black and white photo on the wall behind Nonno, who turns and nods knowingly. “That è Santino.”
“I knew it,” I reply with a smile as I squint at the print of a little boy shirtless with a giant plate of spaghetti in front of him. His face is completely covered in sauce. “Those dark eyes are just as stunning on you then as they are now. How old are you there?”
“Four, I think,” Santino answers, staring at the photograph with a thoughtful look in his eye. “I think it was my birthday then too.”
“It was,” Carlotta confirms as she rejoins us at the table. “He liked birthdays when he was young. He was a very spirited little child.”
Nonno harumphs from across the table. “Got into trouble a lot.”
“Did he?” I ask, my face beaming with this newfound knowledge. “Were you terribly naughty, Santino?”
Carlotta barks out a noise. “He was awful! He was grounded more than he was ever free.”
I laugh, turning my attention to Nonno. “What was the naughtiest thing Santino ever did?”
“That’s easy.” Nonno’s brows lift knowingly. “He stole my Cherry.”
I have to clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself from snorting. “Santino!”
“I borrowed Cherry,” Santino corrects, getting an adorably guilty look on his face. “And I washed her before I brought her back.”
“At two o’clock in the morning,” Nonno growls, his hands turning to fists on the table. “I was so angry, I couldn’t speak English for a week.”
My belly shakes with laughter. “What were you doing with Cherry? Were you with a girl?”
“No.” Santino swallows nervously. “I used her for a street race…which I won.”
Nonno and Nonna shake their heads and wave their hands, still as horrified by that episode today as they were however many years ago when it happened. They excuse themselves to help the others to prep, leaving me with Santino and his mother at the table.
Carlotta rests her chin on her fist and gazes affectionately at her son. “He wasn’t all bad. Even as a naughty teenager, he had a very tender heart. It was actually hard to be too cross at him because he punished himself more than any of us ever could. It gutted him to disappoint the people he loved.”
My lips turn down into a sad smile. “That’s very sweet.”
