The Love of an Artist

Prologue

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Prologue

Sticking my tongue out in concentration I put the second layer of the coffee soaked sponge fingers on the tiramisu I was making for papa. I still remember when I was little he would make it for me all the time. Now, 18, I made it for him he always said it was his favourite.

Stopping for a second to look at my half made tiramisu, I turned around to look again at the acceptance letter and couldn't help the foolish grin that came on my face. I had done it; I had gotten into Apicius, School of Hospitality and Culinary Arts, that was in the heart of Florence, papa's home town. I was following in the footsteps of papa who not only owns his own Italian restaurant in New Jersey where I was born and raised, but he is the greatest chef alive.

Going back to the tiramisu I added another layer of the creamy mixture and grated the last layer of dark chocolate. Putting the dish in the fridge I cleaned up and went to watch my favourite cooking show. 3 hours passed and Mum and papa weren't back yet. I was getting worried so I called mum's phone again but there was no answer. They should be here by now, their plane landed 2 hours ago. Okay maybe they missed their flight.... but they would have called. Okay maybe there was traffic ... yeah they are just in traffic. There was a knock on the door.

Oh thank God.

I opened the door the huge grin on my face fell, it wasn't mum or papa. It was the cops and I knew it couldn't be good news. My throat went dry, making it difficult to breathe.

“Are you Rosalie Valentino?" I nodded my throat too dry to talk.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry...."

 No, no, no

“…there was an accident on the highway... your parents was part of the crash, they didn't make it,"

 I froze, no he was lying he had to be mum and papa are coming home there just in traffic…they are just in traffic. There still alive, their still here for me.

My Italian papa who is mad about food is going to walk through the door and tell the story on how he met my mother and my all-American mother is going to walk in with another reason to have a party.

“I’m so sorry for your lost…I'm going to need you to come with me so you can identify the b..." before he could finish talking I slammed the door in his face, I couldn't breathe my throat was burning and a million thoughts were going through my head.

 I needed it to stop and I needed silence I stumbled into the kitchen and looked though the cupboards trying to find something, anything. I stopped and grabbed the glass bottle and stared at it.

I let out a laugh, “Well, looks like you Jack Daniels are going to be my new best friend."

With that I opened the bottle and chugged it down.