BLIND DEVOTION : The Misconceptions of Us | B o o k 2 [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 1: The Pioneers

"This is steak? Please don't tell me it is. This thing is not food!"

"Is it?" Melanie grimaced to Mrs. Romano who desperately tried to swallow down her piece of meat. After a successful gulp, the poor octogenarian exhaled in pride.

"Overcooked, zero taste," she complained, "and lack of fresh herbs and spices."

Melanie giggled. "I'm not even surprised."

Suddenly, Mrs. Romano grasped the sides of her wheelchair to support her healthy weight. "Who's the cook in here? I need to have a word with him."

Across the room, the other residents who were quietly munching turned to her and one of them said, "I'm coming with you Camila!"

"No one's going anywhere," Mary, the other caregiver, said as she passed by and sat back down the man who was ready to fight with his wooden cane. He stared back at Camila and shrugged. "I'm not coming, sorry Camila."

"Don't worry Mr. Grant because she's not going anywhere either, uh Camila?" Melanie gently grabbed her arms so she could sit down. Beads of sweat appeared on the woman's red face. An Italian tomato freshly washed if you ever asked for imagery.

"They take us for animals or what?" she continued her tantrum. "No. Even animals wouldn't eat that. E il caffè non è buono... patetico." The old lady trembled of frustration on her seat.

Melanie caressed her arm while taking away the plate in front of her.

"Grazie," she replied.

Then, they both headed in front of the tall chilled windows which gave out onto the frosted St. Lawrence river. The snowflakes whirled down from a dull sky and rested upon the vast stream of water like a feather cushion. The scenery silenced Mrs. Romano who felt comforted, as if mother nature placed a duvet on her.

Melanie pulled out a chair from a table to sit next to her. Then, she whispered, "I'm sure you were way better than that cook in your younger ages."

"Oh, of course I was! La migliore!" she answered while brushing away the white hair from her face and proceeded to boast about her exploits in the fine cuisine department. "You know, back at casa mia in Italy, I would prepare my own food. From scratch to delectable creations; this mean all made by me. Once a week, every sunday afternoon, the whole family gathered, squeezed around a long table and screamed over each other as different dishes were being served," she told her.

With a beam, and sparkling eyes, she remembered the memorable moments spent in Sicily.

"It was amazing, and plentiful," she said with a distinctive tone of pride in her voice. "You would be left stuffed until the next weekend, haha!"

Outside, the weather quieted down. Only the white gleaming dust grazed the air until dissolved on the surface of the water. Not too far, a large rusty boat made its entrance, appearing behind nude trees on the riverside.

"You used to tell me you were the best in your area." Melanie nudged lady Romano. Almost every lunch, she listened to her countless stories from her native country.

This last one checked her hands. They faced many challenges until today.

"Now because of this... this... um..."

"Parkinson."

She shrugged. "I can't cook no more."

Melanie squeezed her shoulder with a gentle smile. "Because it's time for you to take a well-deserved break."

"And eat people's garbage?"

"Well-"

"No, no! I need to fly back to Italy and eat," she let out a long breath as she watched the beautiful winter scenery outside, "a delicious osso buco."