Page 45 of The Vow

“I wish. I ran out of time.”

We passed around the platters until our plates were full. I was on cloud nine, despite the calories and fat that I shouldn’t be consuming. I thought I could hear the devil on my shoulder whisper Cable’s name.

“Do you like roasted peppers?”

“I love them.”

“Me too. I used to grill them over charcoal. Can we get a barbecue?”

“We can’t use the gas one?”

“No. It has to be charcoal. These are oven roasted, but there’s way more flavor using charcoal.”

“You’re sexy when you talk about food this way.”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” she said. “Gravy?”

“Yes, please.” In passing me the gravy boat, it slipped from her hand, fell on the table and splattered everywhere. I wasted no time blaming myself. “Dammit! I’m so sorry. I should have grabbed it with both hands.”

“But it was my fault,” she said, standing.

“No, it was mine. Don’t get up. I’ll get paper towels.”

Alex helped me clean the mess and then I threw away the paper towels, along with the unlit cigarette that I had left on the counter.

“I hope you like pork without gravy.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’ve never known anyone who paired gravy with pork. “Of course,” I said, sitting down, and digging in. “Gravy’s not really an Italian thing. I only have it if it comes with my dinner at a restaurant.”

“What about turkey? What do you use at Thanksgiving?”

“Thanksgiving isn’t an Italian thing either,” I said, reminiscing. “When I was in grade 5, I came home from school and told ma she needed to make turkey. Our teacher wanted us to write an essay about our Thanksgiving traditions and report back after the holiday, and I wanted to fit in and not be the odd kid out.”

“Did Mama Mia make it?”

“Mama Mia? Is that what you call her?”

“Yes. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to name her something special.”

If I had a ring, I’d propose on the spot. “I love it. And she did make it. Right after she called every person she’s ever known to ask if they knew anything about the Bird Holiday.”

“That’s hilarious... and adorable. I love your mother.”

“I’m pretty sure that she loves you too.” There were enough mashed potatoes on my fork to feed both of us. They were creamy, and smooth, and I could feel them coat my insides.

“Really? How do you know that?”

“She calls you Alessandra.”

“But that’s my name! Well, the Italian version.”

Whenever rumors spread like wildfire within our circle, it was usually about the younger generation getting into trouble. Whether the gossip was about a Gino who joined a gang, or about a Gina who had gotten pregnant, it didn’t matter if ma liked the kid. If she heard bad news about them, they were stripped of their name and referred to as “The Bad One”, or “Black Sheep”, or the dreaded “Schifoso. Disgusting One”. Alex was still Alex, despite ma believing we were living in sin.

“Exactly.”

“I’m confused. But I trust you. Let’s make a toast,” Alex said raising her glass.

“What should we toast to?”