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My hand stills as my thoughts slip away to the times when my mother would lock me in my room for disobeying her.
Once, she forgot about me for four days. Luckily, I was able to get water from the bathroom.
“Is there something wrong with the food, cara?” Mrs. Accardi asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I quickly shake my head and force a smile to my face. “Not at all. It’s delicious.”
I continue eating, forcing the depressing thoughts to the back of my mind.
What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.
I constantly repeat the words to remind myself to remain strong no matter what life throws my way. I won’t let anything break me.
“Can you cook, Gabriella?” Mrs. Falco asks.
“Yes. I was taught all the skills I’d need to make a good wife,” I answer.
She stares in my direction. “What would those skills entail?”
“Cooking. Needle work. Cleaning. How to handle myself in social settings.” I hesitate for a moment before I continue, hating the words as they spill over my lips, “How to be obedient to my husband.”
A frown forms between Mrs. Falco’s eyebrows, then she shakes her head before taking a bite of her food.
Did I say something wrong?
“What can you cook?” Mrs. Accardi asks.
“Mostly, Sicilian food.”
“Do you have a favorite dish?” she asks before taking a bite of her spaghetti.
“Coda alla vaccinara,” I murmur. “I love oxtail.”
I once added too many vegetables and got hit over my knuckles with a wooden spoon until my skin turned blue.
My head jerks as I shove the memory away. Lifting my chin higher, I pick up my glass of water and take a sip.
What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.
“You should make it for us one day,” Mrs. Falco says. “I can’t remember when last I had coda alla vaccinara.”
With a polite smile on my face, I reply, “I’d love to.”
Once we’re all finished with our meals, and Gerardo leaves with Mrs. Accardi and Mrs. Falco, I stay behind to gather all the plates and utensils.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Martha says, rushing toward me.
“I kept you busy all day long. It’s the least I can do.”
She takes the dishes from me and shakes her head. “You’re a guest, ma’am. Mr. Falco would be very upset if he heard about this.”
Not wanting to get the housekeeper in trouble, I nod before leaving the dining room.
When I walk up the hallway toward Mrs. Falco’s sitting room, I hear Gerardo ask, “Are you going to read one of those romance books again?”
“Yes, so you better make a run for it,” Mrs. Accardi warns, her words followed by a chuckle.
Gerardo comes out of the sitting room and nods at me before he walks away.
