Jess Mariano come back to Italia

Childhood

Arriving at the airport, I pay for my ride and I run to pay for my ticket. A flight in an hour and a half is perfect. I settle down, and I grab a book. I reread the same line a hundred times in the month, yet nothing to do, the excitement prevails. I can't wait to go home.

I grew up in Italy, indeed my mother did not abandon me only once. My parents left me in this country when I was not even two years old. It was too complicated to manage a child. My father didn't want a child, my mother used to take drugs, smoke, drink etc... When I got there, I was immediately everyone's child. I was the smallest of my cousins, and I lived all the time with my grandparents. Mi nonna e mi nonno (my grandmother and my grandfather), I was a gift from heaven for them, they cherished me, spoiled me, burned so many times. I was everything for them. Every day I cooked with my nonna, she taught me everything. How to prepare a risotto alla Milanese, how to enjoy a mozzarella di bufala. The passeggiata (long walk typical of Italy) was our thing, we picked up everything we found and left them in various places to mark our passage. With my nonno, we talked about serious things, he listened to me talking for hours and when I had finished, he found solutions for me. He told me if I was wrong or not, he taught me tricks not to be fooled. I told him about my friends, especially Michael Vitelli, my best friend who had become my brother (he was at home all the time, he had become a member of the family, sometimes he called my grandmother nonna), I also told him about my lovers, my friends, college... We both talked for hours, I listened to him tell me about his experiences, he always helped me. I live in a beautiful Italian house, in a small village, where everyone knew each other, where, in all the streets, people offered me their product (wines, soaps, shoes) because I was the favorite. I was first in my class, I had a lot of friends but Michael remained the one and only, the brother I had not had. We went to mass every Sunday morning, sometimes all three of us made big car trips, we toured Italy and all its most secret corners.

And then one day, my world collapsed. Liz appeared in the middle of the night. She's in the house and told me we were leaving right away. I was not awake, still dooming I followed him. I remember that my grandmother held my wrist with all her strength and that my grandfather shouted at Liz. When I got into the car I was holding my nonna's hand very hard. We were crying there, all three in the middle of the night, then Liz started the car, and we moved away from them.

I was 16 years old, my life ended there. I had lost everything. My family, my best friend, my friends, my studies, my village, my life, everything, I had lost everything.

We arrived in New York. Hardly arrived in the unclean building in which I was going to live, which I immediately called in Italy, yet no answers. Liz told me that she had made sure to block the lines connected to that of Italy. I went out calling from a telephone booth. My nonna answered, I cried very hard and I begged her to pick me up, she burst into tears and told me that it was impossible, that my grandfather did everything, but that her lawyer told her that he had no rights over me, if the mother wanted me to come back I couldn't do anything about it and neither could they. We had to wait for my majority.

New York was hell, fortunately my teachers had taught me American, despite this, I didn't attend anyone. I was so sad, so empty. I never spoke with Liz, I only spoke on the phone with my Italians. Michael and my grandfather told me to start reading, that it made time pass and that it helped to escape. I hated reading, in Italy I didn't have time to read. But I started and became addicted. No one dares to disturb a person who reads, so no one spoke to me, I could spend hours, see days without letting a word out of my mouth. Then the tension began to rise between Liz and me, we were too different. So to unhide me, she sent me to this lost bled at my uncle's house. And hell has amplified. People didn't like me, we were on my back all the time, hell.

It's without regret that I'm leating here, I hate Liz, I hate Luke. But serious to them I will taste the most beautiful reunion of all time.

I am pulled out of my thoughts when I hear that the boarding of my flight is almost finished. Once on the plane, a ball digs at the bottom of my stomach. And if nothing goes as planned, if Liz or Luke forced me to go home, or if the plane explodes, well I relax. I know I do the best. When the plane leaves the ground, this ball disappears, suddenly I feel it light, soothed.

Italy, amor mio, I'm coming back.