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“Come on, Dante. Don’t let it get to you. She’ll come around. Just give her some space.”
“Space? It’s been a month, Elio. I’m in Rome and she’s in LA. How much more space does she need?”
“Women are a different breed. They think too much.”
“Don’t let Lisa hear you make such a Neanderthal-like statement. She'll dump your ass at the altar for sure.”
“Nah. Not my little brood of vipers. Lisa is a true Sicilian woman. She gets it. I’m starting to think that that’s your problem right there, Dante. You had to fall in love with a Californian rose, didn’t you? You would have been much better off giving it to a local. They know how to handle the mafia culture.”
“Don’t you think I know that? You can’t choose who you fall in love with, you idiot.”
“I guess not. Mamma wants to see you.”
“Okay. I’ll go up after lunch.”
I know exactly what my mother is going to say. It’s going to be a long afternoon.
I find Mamma in her kitchen. She is baking cannoli and cassatella. The room is a feast for the senses.
“Ciao bella,” I greet her and hug her gently.
“Ciao, Dante. Just just in time for a taste,” she says and pushes a cannoli into my mouth.
“Ah! Heaven, Mamma” I smile once I’ve swallowed.
“Sit, my boy. I want to talk to you.”
Oh, shit. She means business. This old Italian firecracker has something on her mind.
“Sure, Mamma.”
I learned at a young age not to argue with my mother. Especially not when she’s within reach of kitchen implements like knives and marble rolling pins. I sit down at the nook and accept an espresso from the De Luca matriarch.
“So, what are you doing, Dante?”
“What do you mean, Mamma?”
“Why haven’t you fetched your woman and your son? What are you waiting for?”
An excellent question fraught with danger. Trust my mother to cut through the bull and get straight to the heart of the matter.
“Well, I’m trying to be respectful and give Mia the time she needs, Mamma.”
“Ah, that’s bullshit. Are you a man or a mouse? I didn’t raise my boys to be mice. You need to call her and tell her and make her believe that this is the only place for her. I want my grandson to grow up with his father. Is that so terrible?”
“No, Mamma. I want that too.”
“So, what are you doing?”
My mother, bless her frankness, is right. I’ve been pussy footing it, waiting for Mia to accept me for who I am, when, really, I should be showing her what she's missing. Rome, this life, the family, the love…Mia will love all of this. And my son will too. He’s a prince here. This is his kingdom. He should be here to enjoy it.
“Thank you, Mamma.”
“Don’t thank me, son. Just go get your woman.”
“Si, Mamma.”
“Ti amo, Dante.”