Elisa

1

When I was born, my father thought that my mother had cheated on him. I looked just like any other newborn baby. Like every other baby in our family, I came out screaming, kicking, and pretty pissed off that I was no longer in my mother's warm and cozy womb. Except, I had a full head of blonde hair. 

What's wrong with blonde hair? Absolutely nothing. There's plenty of Italian women with blonde hair and light eyes. Yet, when you're born into an Italian family where everyone has olive skin, dark hair, and deep brown eyes, it's a little bit strange. My older brother Dominick was five at the time, and he still remembers my parents screaming at each other in the middle of the hospital room. 

My mom didn't cheat on my dad. It's completely possible for me to be blonde. It's just something that hasn't happened in our long line of Paccaroni's since probably the early 1900's. 

Here's the thing about my family. I love them to death, I really do. But they are embarrassing. There's a screaming fight in our household at least once a day. Mom is obsessed with cleaning and if she doesn't make some huge feast for dinner, there is something deathly wrong. Dad runs a restaurant called Rosa's with his brother and sister. Which means that I have to help run the place with my cousins and brothers. Which also means I can never get away from my family.

"Elisa! Breakfast is ready!" I hear Mom call from downstairs. 

I sigh and finish doing my mascara. My icy blue eyes are prominent at all times, especially when I'm wearing makeup. I grab a piece of hair in the front and pin it on the side of my head with a white beret. 

"Elisa! Get your ass down here!" Mom calls again.

"I'M COMING!" I yell down with a loud groan to follow it with.

I enter the kitchen, where my entire family is sitting at the table. There's waffles and pancakes, eggs with cheddar cheese, and what looks like three pounds of bacon. My brothers, Gio and Remi, are scarfing down their share of waffles. 

"Were you giving me attitude upstairs?" Mom asks.

I roll my eyes. "No, but do we have to eat breakfast together every morning? Normal families just have a quick bowl of cereal and leave."

"What's wrong with having family meals? Be grateful for the food on the table." As she speaks she waves her fork around obnoxiously. "And what's with the black nail polish? It's tacky with your uniform."

"You look goth," Remi raises his thick dark eyebrows in amusement. He's only a year older than me, so he picks on me the most out of all my brothers.

"Dad! Tell them to stop." I look at my father, who is deeply invested in his newspaper.

He looks up from the sports section. "Would you stop telling Elisa how to dress? She's sixteen and can make her own decisions." 

"Dad, do I have to work tonight? I wanted to go hang with some friends from school." Gio shoves half a piece of bacon in his mouth. Gio is fourteen. He can't wait tables but Dad makes him bus them and help wash the dishes at the restaurant. 

"No. You made a commitment to work two nights a week, and that's what you're doing. I won't have any laziness in our family." Dad sips his coffee.

"And you better not being doing any of that skating, Giovanni," Mom yells from the sink. "If I see you on one of those skateboards I'm going to beat your ass, you got it?"

Gio shrinks into his seat. "Ma! I'm not even doing that. Why you gotta always assume shit."

"Hey! No cursing at the table!" Dad snaps.

Gio throws his hands up. "Ma just cursed." 

"I'm at the sink." She says, pointing to the dirty dishes.