What You Know

11.

Chapter 11| The pasta fight

'Sometimes, you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.'

VITO (V) RICCI

~~~

I've spent the afternoon at mi bambina's home after she told me about her anorexia. I had guessed she struggled with an eating disorder because she always struggled with her body and food from what I could tell but she's truly gorgeous and now I can help her as much as I can. 

Tony told me about her mum's terms for someone coming round this afternoon, she had to eat and it had to be at her home so we're going to go cook pasta when she gets hungry and we've been revising since.

I hate biology.

Antonia doesn't though, she loves the subject and she finds it so easy. It's sexy as hell, she just gets it and understands it. My little neek.

'Are you hungry yet, Il mio piccolo secchione?'

(my little nerd.)

'I am but I don't want to eat.' 

Mi bambina looks down and picks at her fingers, still sore and bleeding from earlier.

'No.' I urge her gently. 'Come on, don't pick your fingers Il mio piccolo secchione. Let's go downstairs and we can cook. You know as well as me your body needs this, hm?

'Okay.' She says nodding.

I take her hand in mine and walk downstairs, I let her get the pasta out and she turns to me, struggling to jump onto the kitchen island.  I walk to her and grab her hips, lifting her up onto the kitchen side. I stand between her legs, Even though she's sat on the kitchen side I'm still taller than her.

'What else do we need, il mio culo corto?'

(My little shortass.)

'I was hoping you would have a recipe or something to follow.' She smiles softly up at me, il mio culo corto.

'Oh you were, huh?'

'Mhm.'

She wobbles her head side to side and kicks her feet, a smug smile stuck on her face, her natural eyeliner coming out to shine. She must have taken off her makeup before she saw me because only her lashes are left but I think they're the little fiddly ones my mum uses and not big ones. I don't know, okay. My mum just wears makeup sometimes because she has these fancy parties for her job.

I huff out a sigh and roll my eyes at her, putting one of my hands on her thigh, and twirling a finger round a stray piece of hair that fell out of her bun.

'It's a good job I know how to make a good pasta isn't it then?'

'Yea, thanks V.'

'No worries, mi bambina.'

'I need you to tell me where the ingredients are, though, mi bambina, and then I can get them.'

'Okay, well, um,' She tries to find the words as I step back from between her legs and lean against the counter behind me. 'Tell me what you need, one ingredient by one and I'll tell you where they are?'

'Sure, mi bambina' I put hands up, fluffing my hair up. 'I need tomatoes, tinned or fresh it doesn't matter.'

'Cupboard behind you, bottom shelf, on the left.'

'Grazie, bambina.'

'Prego.' Her pronunciation isn't actually bad, I'm surprised.

'Are you learning Italian?'