Chapter 3
Becky strolled back into the kitchen. The incredible scent of the Bolognese hit her nose.
“How’s your dad?” Marcello said stirring the sizzling red sauce in the pot. The stove was old and dingy which made the pot rattle with every circular motion that he made.
“He’s fine,” Becky replied in a soft voice stopping within an arm’s length from him. She bit her lip and carried on. “Sorry Marcello but I’m…
“Gonna have to go,” Marcello said finishing her sentence. He knew it was coming as much as anyone would know a train was about to pass.
“I’m so sorry - it’s just that my dad just had his business trip cancelled and he is coming home early and he wants to have lunch. I tried to say no, but you know how he is, always wanting to spend time with his one and only daughter,” Becky explained quickly.
Marcello hissed and carried on stirring. The sound of the pot clanking on the metal stove grew louder as the circumference of his stirring grew.
Becky gawkily watched him in silence. She hated the feeling of letting Marcello down. They were supposed to spend a whole weekend together, especially as it was only two weeks ago that she had to abandon a picnic he so meticulously prepared after she received a phone call from her “dad” reminding her of an event she promised she will accompany him to. There was no way she could have wiggled herself out of that one, especially as Aaron was the guest speaker and had been talking non-stop about it from when he first received the invitation. However, when Marcello asked her what the event was about, a dumbfounded Becky had to result in saying, “it’s a really, really important event with really, really important people” as she honestly had no clue. All she remembered doing was consistently nodding her head out of sync and plucking in the phrases “well done” and “I am so happy for you” as her overwhelmingly excited husband babbled on and on; and somewhere in between her not paying attention and her not being really interested, she must have missed what the event was about and most importantly the date.
A shadow of guilt engulfed Becky like a nearing storm. She couldn’t believe history was repeating itself way too soon. At that moment, all she wanted to do was to hold Marcello and tell him that she will definitely be coming back.
“Marcello, I swear I will come back as soon as I’m done,” she said edging a few steps towards him.
Marcello stopped stirring and slammed the wooden spoon in the pot, causing the sauce to splatter over the stove and drip onto the floor.
“Goddamn it Becky, you’re twenty six years old!” he snapped. “Twenty-six years old!”
Becky caught by surprise stopped midway in her tracks.
“I mean, at your age, I don’t understand how you can still allow your dad to control your life. And this isn’t the first time you have bailed out one me,” he continued.
“We have a complicated relationship and you know that,” Becky ruefully responded in her defence.
Marcello hissed again. “A complicated relationship” he reiterated unconvinced. “You know what? Everything would just be so simple between you and me if you would just tell your dad about us. Why are you so ashamed of me?”
Becky sighed in frustration and ruffled her hair impatiently. “Marcello, we have discussed this many times before. Why would I be ashamed of you? I love you and that is why I am with you,” she said pressing her fingers together as though she was praying and pointing them towards Marcello whenever she mentioned the word ‘you.’ Her intention was to sound collective and enduring but instead she came across as a condescending school teacher. She shook her hands and decided to rest them by her side instead.
