Page 42

This Is What Comes from Telling the Truth

“I do not want to talk about Ricky DeLuca,” I declare in our suite as I step into my shorts for dinner with the Coven. Tonight, we’re breaking up into small family units, which, frankly, is needed after the emotional roller coaster of today. “This is a Ricky-free zone.”

Matty stares me down. “All I’ve heard all year is Ricky this , Ricky that .

” He mimics me, walking around the room, stopping at the armchair by the window near my bed: “Ricky would love this chair.” He moves toward the desk and inspects the top with his index finger.

“Ricky makes tables.” I nearly piss myself when he sashays to the armoire and drops it down low, pops his bussy, and pouts his lips as he whimpers, “Ricky carves a better dresser than the poor unfortunate soul who did this.” He moves into a pseudo-Ursula accent from The Little Mermaid , but I don’t care because I’m laughing so hard I nearly forget that Ricky has twenty-four hours to decide whether or not he’s going to massacre my heart for a second time.

“Do a death drop next,” I request as he crashes to the floor. “But point taken.”

Matty hobbles toward me. “You’re scared.

You don’t want to be hurt again. Devastated like you were a year ago, but that’s not gonna happen.

You’re so much stronger now, even if you don’t see it.

” He grabs hold of my hand. “You love him, but even if he doesn’t choose you, you don’t need him now like you needed him then.

And I think you know that. Yeah, you’ll be heartbroken, but it won’t wreck you.

You’ve proven that you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. ”

“You think?”

“Dude, look at you. A year ago, did you think you’d be able to be here?”

Reader, if you’d told me one year ago that Topher and Sienna would be getting married and that I’d have to stand across from Ricky, I probably would have been more delusional in my pursuit to win Ricky back (I know what you’re thinking after roughly 300 pages of this, but I’m far more rational now).

“I’m not going to fight for someone who doesn’t want to fight for me. If Ricky wants me, he can fight for me for once.”

“That’s the spirit!”

There’s no way to protect my heart—getting back together is a leap of faith I’m not sure I can take now, and ending it feels like killing a part of myself.

However, if and when we do talk, I can say everything I need to so I don’t regret anything, and if it ends, it ends. And that, my friends, is growth.

Without warning, the door to our suite bursts open, and the Coven waltzes right in, not bothering to check if we’re naked or on the toilet or showering. Typical.

“It’s a pig sty in here,” Ma says.

“Seriously, open a window,” Zia Rosa adds.

“You let that nice boy from the lemon farm sleep here?” Zia Gab asks, and Zia Rosa whips her head around so fast you’d think she was possessed by a demon.

“What?” Zia Rosa yanks the pillow away from Matty’s face. “He slept here? Did you kick Fielder out?”

“Ma, no, stop, relax!” Matty yells.

“You ready for dinner? That nice Chef Vittoria has our family meal ready by the pool for us. Topher is eating with the DeLucas, not that I’m mad or anything, but it’d be nice if he ate with us too, just saying,” Zia Gab says, picking clothes up off the floor and gathering them in a heap on the desk.

“There’s laundry machines, you know. You’re going to have to learn how to do your own laundry in college. ”

“I know how to do laundry!” Matty’s armor is weakened. “Stop cleaning!”

“Where the hell am I sitting?” Nonna bellows from the doorway, her silhouette backlit like the badass Supreme she is. Shuffling quickly, she swats Matty off his own bed. “Shove over.”

Matty mouths a “sorry” and says, “Thought you could use a Coven-tervention.”

“Wow, you had sex and became funny. Welcome.” I bow. “Your gay card should be here in five to seven business days.”

Nonna smacks me upside the head. “Puttana!”

We all burst out in laughter. I’ve been so focused on Ricky this week I haven’t spent any time with my family. I forgot how much I missed it, how much I needed them.

“Level with us,” Ma commands.

With a deep breath, I plunge into the entire saga, from my super vague and not-at-all thought-out plan to win Ricky back to the Cam saga to the Clock App of it all, coming clean about the contest I hope to win but I’m even more grateful it gave me the oomph to research how climate change is impacting Amalfi and the lemon groves.

Ma reaches out her hand and takes mine. “You always thought you were running without direction; you made up this story for yourself that you were living a life backwards, but Fielder, you were living. That’s the point, to live a full life.

It’s all I ever wanted for you.” She brushes stray hair from her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter how it happens, or how you do it,” Zia Gab says, picking up the torch.

“Most people just stay on autopilot, but you? You’re figuring it all out in real time.

It’s beautiful and inspiring, Fielder! What you’re building online, the passions you’re pursuing, I’m so proud!

Let me see this contest internship; maybe Topher can help. ”

I hand over my phone, scrolling first to @FoodForChange and pulling up the contest’s bylaws.

Zia Gab squints intently, reading all about Michelin-star chef Mars Lyon and their Out of This World TV series, how it promotes food sustainability.

“I can’t see a thing, this is so small; where are my glasses? ”

“On the top of your head, Squinter!” Ma yells. “What’s the point of wearing glasses if they’re always on the top of your head, Madonna mia!”

“Shut up,” Zia Gab says, pawing for her glasses. “Jeez, Fielder, this sounds exactly like the kind of stuff you’re filming at the Avello Family Lemon Groves. I bet you’re a shoo-in! What are you so worried about?”

“Sometimes I just feel so messy,” I say. “Or, like, when I compare myself to Topher, I feel like I have zero direction. And being here this week, trying to win Ricky back and losing at that, it’s another reminder I’m doing things all wrong.”

“You’re not messy,” Matty adds. “Or backwards. Or wrong. You gotta cut that shit. Please, fam, tell him! ’Cause I’m getting tired!”

“Language,” Zia Rosa says. “But he’s right. I don’t envy you. When we were growing up, we didn’t have phones or laptops. It’s no wonder you think you’re living out of order: your generation is too exposed to ‘ everything, everywhere all at once’ —”

“Ay-yo!” Matty’s obsessed with that movie and made me watch it a billion times. He was pissed I read the spoilers about the ending and twists and different multiverse storylines, but I needed to know how it would end before I committed.

Zia Rosa continues, “You’re so exposed to everything that anything you compare yourself to is going to make you feel inadequate. We’re not meant to be exposed to so much all the time.”

“And don’t compare yourself to Topher. He’s twenty-five, you’re eighteen in a couple weeks. You have a lot of life to live,” Zia Gab says.

“You’re doing just fine, baby,” Ma says. “You’re allowed to slow down and figure it out. Fall in love. Have your heart broken. Trust that it’ll mend. It has already.”

Nonna hums, and we all turn, knowing she’s about to impart old-world wisdom.

Deep in thought, she rests her hands delicately in her lap.

“Is it a bad thing I fell in love with Ricky so young?” I ask her. “Should I leave him in the past and move on? Past him?”

“As old as I am,” Nonna begins, “I know one thing. Love doesn’t come along more than a couple times in your life. If you’re lucky. What you and Ricky have? That’s a genuine love that can’t be touched, and it’s one worth seeing through.”

“Or at least hearing him out, whatever the outcome,” Ma adds. “You might be surprised at what you learn about yourself.”

“I’m afraid,” I admit.

“We’re all afraid,” Zia Rosa says.

“You guys?” I ask, and exchange an incredulous stare with Matty.

“All the time,” Ma says. “We’re all single mothers here, either widowed or cheated on or deserted by men in a world that isn’t kind to any of those circumstances. You don’t think that does something to a woman? We got through it together. As a family. Mess with us, we bury you.”

Nonna adds, “We’re like the Mafia, without the death wish. Unless . . .”

Everyone goes silent.

At once, Zia Gab, Zia Rosa, and Ma all shout, “Ma!”

“They know what I mean,” Nonna says, reaching her hand out for me. I kiss it.

“Anyway,” Ma continues. “We keep going for you two, and Topher.”

“Life is short,” Zia Rosa says. “You never know what’s going to happen next.

That’s a blessing and a curse. The beauty is you get to figure it out.

Every step you take is a step forward. It’s all how you look at it.

Whatever you do, as long as it serves you , not anybody else, that’s all that matters. What do the kids say? ‘No regrets’?”

Matty rolls his eyes at his mom. “Main character energy!”

“Oh, what a unique saying,” Zia Gab says unironically. “I love it! I have main character energy!” She waves her hand over her head like a spotlight.

“Sure do,” Ma says. “We’ll never hear the end of that one now.”

Main character energy is considered a bad thing, but .

. . why? Sure, I’m extra AF and act like the center of the universe, but it’s always been because I never felt good enough or that my life made any sense.

Parents never married, broke up, got back together, just in time for Dad to die.

Knowing I was gay and in love with my best friend at such a young age but not understanding why or how to process that.

Needing to know the ending of every story before it’s even told.

Deconstructing food on the plate to see how it’s made.

Knowing I can live with Ricky DeLuca, the one person I never thought I could live without.

Maybe that’s main character energy, allowing myself space to be a whole entire person, fabulous flaws and all, without having to worry what people think?

I can’t please everyone, but this trip is showing me I can be both at the center of my own story and the driver, and that what I thought didn’t make sense is simply part of life. It makes me, me.

That feels good.

Zia Gab hugs me from the side. “Don’t be afraid to be your own main character. Your life is yours to live. Just remember, you’re not alone.”

Ma and Zia Rosa nod emphatically, both proudly smiling. It’s saccharine and embarrassing and wonderful.

“And if anyone messes with you, I’ll put the malocchio on them.” Nonna does the sign of the cross and recites her Roman Catholic incantation: “Nel nome del Padre, e del Figlio, e dello Spirito Santo, amen!”

Zia Gab laughs from her gut before saying, “Witchy!” She waves the rest of the Coven over, and one by one, they wrap their arms around me and squeeze.

“I want in!” Matty wedges himself in the middle of a Lemon sandwich.

Even if Ricky doesn’t choose me, I’m going to be okay.

I’ll be devastated, but I’ll survive.

No, not survive. Thrive.

Main character energy and all that.

I’m a fucking Lemon.

(Who am I kidding. He better choose me!)