You see, there are these apps where anybody can write books, stories and the sort and one day, scrolling the FB (which I don't usually do but I kill time with it on occasions) my eyes fell on a title that made me scoff.
The title, 'Mafia in Love'...
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"So, what do you have in plan for this evening?" Aunty Feli asks bringing us the tea outside, on the patio, like every time after dinner.
"Hm... I don't know. I feel a bit under the weather, yesterday was the same, and the day before it was the same. I think I'm catching a cold or something," I tell her with my thoughts going to places while drinking small sips from the steaming coffee, even though I feel it turns my stomach upside down.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Aunty says smiling with meaning and drinking from her own mug.
I would have believed her if it wasn't for the sparkle in her eyes, making me curious.
"What?" I ask.
"Hm, nothing... but maybe you want to have that checked, you know," she replies.
"Um, no... I'm fine, Aunty. Probably it's just a virus," I reject the idea although what I'm feeling lately is far from flu symptoms.
My phone rings and I fish it out of my pocket to pick it up. It's Papa.
"Ciao, Papa, come stai?" (Hi, Dad, how are you?)
"Ciao, bella. Sto bene, grazie. E tu, principessa?" he asks and before I have the chance to say something, Aunty answers Papa's question
"She's under the weather," she shouts in her beautiful Italian accent.
"What's wrong? I'll pick you up. I'll take you to the doctor, right now," Papa becomes immediately worried.
"No, Papa, it's just a cold, no need to worry this much," I try to calm him down, gauging my eyes at Aunty and scolding her for making him worry useless.
"Sweetie, I'm coming. I'm on my way," he suddenly decides and I can hear the screeching of the car wheels while most probably turning the car around.
"Come on, Papa. It's nothing, I'm telling you," I insist but hey, have you met my father?
"I'm calling your mother right now. She can reach you before I do," he speaks as if being deaf to my words.
"Papa!"
"I won't hear another word about it. Hang up, I'm calling your mother," he says and I do just that, puffing with despair to his attitude.
"Really, Aunty?! Why? You know I don't like too much fuss around me."
"It's not you. I did it for myself. I haven't seen your mom and dad for a while and I feel like spending some time together. Is that bothering you?" she explains herself innocently.
