Page 25 of Better Than Gelato (Ciao Bella #1)

Chapter Fifteen

W hen I pick up Isa from school on the first day after Christmas break, she looks like she’s been in a bar fight.

Half of her hair is coming out of her ponytail, there’s dirt all over her uniform, and her eyes are daggers looking for something to slash.

She shoves her backpack at me and walks past without a word.

We walk home in silence. When we step into the elevator I say, “I can see that you’ve had a rough day. Would you rather I ask you a lot of questions about it or pretend I don’t notice?”

She narrows her eyes, like maybe this is a trick question. Finally she says, “Pretend.”

“Very well,” I say as the elevator stops at our floor.

“Your parents are going out to dinner, so it’s just you and me tonight. I thought we could do a spa night. I’m ready to reveal all the secrets of how us California girls look so gorgeous .” I make an exaggerated smoochy face and flip my hair out.

The barest sliver of a smile shows up on Isa’s face.

“Right this way, madame.” I say, leading her to a chair in the kitchen. I’m trying for a French accent, but it’s hard in Italian.

“Do I have to?” she asks in a whiny voice.

“Yes.” I wrap a towel around her shoulders and roll up her pant legs. When I move her feet into a pot of hot water she yelps, “That’s our spaghetti pot!”

“Well, tonight the spaghetti pot is the feet pot.” Another tiny smile graces her face. I squirt some body wash in so it’s bubbly and smells nice.

“Now, tell me, Madame Isa, would you rather have smashed avocado on your face or mayonnaise in your hair?”

She lets out a surprised sound. “Avocado on my face?” she asks.

“Excellent choice.” Before she can argue, I start spreading on a thick layer of mashed up avocado. I make a big show of licking my fingers, which makes her giggle.

“You look gorgeously green. Now it’s time for mayonnaise.” She looks like she’s about to resist, so I move fast, spooning out generous globs of mayonnaise and slathering it into her hair. I work from the roots all the way down to the tips.

“Now, Madame Isa, which color would you like for your fingers and toes?” I hold up a bottle of red nail polish and a bottle of pink.

“Pink,” she says quickly. And then adds in a pouting tone, “I guess.”

I paint her tiny fingernails bubblegum pink.

“Now for this next part it’s very important that you close your eyes,” I say.

“Why?”

“So you can relax. Relaxing is very important.”

Isa closes her eyes. I dash into my room and get my camera then dash back.

“Now if you hear a clicking sound, that’s just the sound of your foot bath bubbling. Not the sound of a camera. Your sweet nanny would never take a picture of you with a green face like an exotic lizard.”

Her eyes fly open just as I snap the picture. “No,” she yells, reaching for the camera. I snap two more.

Her mortified face suddenly turns calm.

“You should take a picture of both of us, so we can remember this special night.”

“Great idea,” I set the timer and place the camera on the counter across from us. Then I squeeze in next to Isa and crouch so our faces are level.

On the second beep, Isa darts in fast as lightning and smushes her messy face all over mine. The camera flashes and captures my open mouth and surprised eyes and green face.

“You tricked me!” I holler.

Isa cackles with delight.

I turn her chair around so her back is to the kitchen sink.

I use a washcloth to clean the avocado from her face and then tip her head back and pour cups of warm water over her hair.

It feels thick and slimy, but as I rinse, it gets softer and softer.

By the time it’s all clean, it runs over my fingers like silk.

While Isa watches a TV show about kids who can travel through space, I whip us up a delicious pasta with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella.

“I’m not that hungry,” she says when we’re seated at the table.

“That’s okay,” I reply. “Just eat what you feel like. It’s not as good as your dad’s, but I did my best.”

Isa’s eyes fill with tears and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Hey. Am I still pretending nothing is wrong?” I ask. “That I don’t notice those tears?”

She nods. “You definitely don’t notice those.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding back.

We eat in mostly silence, then I help her get ready for bed. We spend an extra long time reading Harry Potter , and it's way past her bedtime when I give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her goodnight.

“I love you,” I say.

“Do you also like me?” she asks, looking right in my eyes.

It makes me smile. “Yes, I also really like you.”

I don’t know when it happened. It wasn’t that long ago that living with Isa felt like being trapped in a cage with a sarcastic tiger. But now… the tiger has faded into a brilliant little girl who makes me laugh every day.

To my surprise, Isa’s eyes fill with tears again. She squinches them closed and says, “Federica said my dad doesn’t like me, that’s why he’s gone so much. She said he probably loves me, because he’s my dad and he has to, but if he really liked me, he wouldn’t always be in a different country.”

I’m momentarily shocked at the meanness of children.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I don’t know. He’s gone all the time. I thought it was mostly for his job…but maybe it’s a little bit because of me.”

I tilt my head from side to side like I’m considering this possibility. “Can I tell you what I see?”

She nods.

“I see the way your dad looks at you when you walk into the kitchen each morning, like the sun has risen now that Isa is awake. I see how he laughs when you tell him funny stories from school. I see him standing in your doorway, watching you sleep. I see how sad he looks when he hugs you goodbye before his trips. I see a dad who loves his little girl, not because he has to, but because she’s so wonderful he can’t help it. ”

Isa doesn’t say anything to this, but she nods, and I’m hoping it’s a nod of agreement.

“Julieta,” she says, turning her big eyes on me. “I have something important to tell you.”

“Go ahead,” I say encouragingly.

She leans in and says in a very quiet voice, “You still have avocado all over your face.”

I laugh and Isa looks pleased at her surprise joke. I touch my cheek and feel dry, gritty avocado gunk.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” I say. And kiss her goodnight one more time.

The next morning, I discreetly evaluate Isa for signs of sadness. She looks a lot better than she did yesterday. She’s wearing a shirt with a silhouette of the Paris skyline where all the windows are sparkling gemstones

“Isa, I love your shirt,” I say.

“Thanks,” she says. “My dad brought it back for me on his trip to Paris. Because he likes me so much he brings me gifts from the cool places he visits. I thought my best friend Federica would like to see it. She never gets gifts from cool places. And she loves Paris. And gemstones.”

Her eyes are wide and innocent, but she’s smiling wickedly.

Wow. I’ve got to hand it to her. That’s a total power move.

I give her an extra tight hug as I drop her off. That fierce little hooligan is going to be just fine.

* * *

It takes Isa a while to warm up to Jake.

She was appalled that I chose to date the American who wears a bright green Adidas jacket instead of the Italian she saw picking me up for the theater in an Armani suit.

But Jake slowly wins her over, along with Marco and Sofia.

Throughout the cold months of January and February, he’s a near-constant presence in the Rossis’ living room, playing Uno with me and Isa, and reading Harry Potter in funny voices.

February turns into March, and I wake up early one Saturday morning and lay in bed staring at the texture of my off-white ceiling. I’m officially twenty-one years old today.

There’s a text from Maggie waiting for me on my phone.

Chow Juls! Happy Birthday! Do you realize this is the first time in a DECADE I have not been there on your birthday?! I don’t like the precedent we’re setting, but I’ll allow it based on how cool your life is at the moment. Which is why I supported this nanny idea from the beginning.

I snort. Maggie complained long and loud about me abandoning her this year.

I just want to tell you that I am so happy you were born, and my life would suck without you. Hope you are well celebrated today.

I miss that girl.

While I’m still holding my phone it rings, and I know it’s my mom.

“How are you doing? How do you feel?”

I give her all my updates, and she makes encouraging noises. “What a wonderful life you have created for yourself!” she says. Then my dad gets on the phone. He tells me he’s proud of the young woman I’ve become. He gets teary, and it makes me laugh.

“I love you, Dad,” I say.

“I love you too, Juls,” he says. “I hope your day is as amazing as you are.”

It is a spectacular day. I go shopping with Valentina and Carmen at the Sant’Ambrogio market, then Jake takes me to lunch and a soccer game, and in the evening, we head to a restaurant downtown to meet the gang for dinner.

“ Benvenuti, tanti auguri! ” they yell when they see us.

“Happy birthday,” Paolo says to me in English.

“Your English is as impeccable as your shirt,” I say.

“You are too kind,” he says with a charming smile, switching back to Italian. “How does it feel to be twenty-one years old? You look so elegant and sophisticated, no one would ever guess you’re American.”

I give him an elbow to the ribs and a “thank you.”

We spend the next hour eating and talking. A giant tiramisu lit with candles arrives at our table and everyone starts singing “ tanti auguri .” When the singing stops and it’s time for me to make a wish, I can’t think of anything I could want that I don’t already have.

Let this last, I think as I blow out the candles. Let this good thing I’ve found continue .