Culinaria L'amore

Culinaria L'amore Chapter One*

Chapter One

"Wait, what do you mean by L'amore is closing? Last time I checked, which was last night thank you very much, I was cooking in the back, and customers were enjoying our cuisine. I'm sorry sir, but I think you're a nutcase to be assuming that."

I sighed as the nasal sounding lawyer on the other side muttered something about legal ownership and property taxes, none of which I gave a damn about or frankly, understood. Twisting the white phone cord around my wrist, wincing slightly when it brushed against my newest oil burn, thanks to the busboy not drying the pan, I resisted sighing loudly into the phone so the insistent man could get the point.

"Yes sir, I understand your um... concern in the matter that my father never signed the ownership over to me, but if you recall, my father didn't have enough time as he lay burning in a car to sign any shitty documents. Now if you would please excuse me... I believe you should take a break from all those gossip magazines, alright?"

His annoying voice was cut off by the sound of the phone slamming against my purple bedroom wall.

Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers through my hair, resisting screaming loudly and pulling a couple dark strands out of my head. For the past month, our phone was being clogged constantly by lawyers, buyers, and gold diggers, all requesting to buy L'amore or badgering me about one senseless thing or another. In a sense, it made me feel proud that so many business men found interest in such a small restaurant, but the countless phone calls and legal sounding speeches were starting to get on my worn out nerves. Along with having to console my mother, work from nine in the morning to ten at night, trying to ward off greedy pigs was not something I wanted to be doing.

I heard the pantry door slam close and could hear my mother's laughter from downstairs. She was chatting on her cell phone and her voice rang merrily, signifying that she was talking to Yivanni Bianchi.

After the funeral, the two seemed to reconcile and now my mother couldn't go a day without talking with her former college friend. The conversations the two had seemed to be the only thing that anchored my mother to the present world, me included as sad as it was. Hearing her walk up the stairs, I exited my room, putting a small smile on my face as I went to greet her.

"I don't know how she is doing right now to tell you the truth. All Kirsten's been doing is work, work, and work. You should see the horrible burns she gets on her arms from carelessly cooking. I feel like she needs a break. I rarely see her in the morning because she's always rushing off and she doesn't get home until ten thirty! You know, she didn't go to college mainly because her dream was to cook with her father. And now that he's gone, I'm afraid she doesn't have enough friends or a social life for a nineteen year old. She's matured so fast, Yivanni, even before her father died."

I stopped short when I heard my name, silently hiding around the corner between the bathroom and the stairwell, curious as to what my mom was saying about me.

"I know, I know, I'll think about okay? I know she would love to go but I'm not sure if she is willing to leave me and her restaurant. She has such a sense of loyalty and responsibility that sometimes I don't know what to do... But of course we'll be there tonight. We wouldn't miss it for anything. You're such a darling friend."

My mother paused before muttering something indistinguishable in Italian. There was small frown on her face when she finally hung up, seen through the cracks in the stairwell..

"Hey mom," I greeted cheerfully, coming out into the hallway once I felt the coast was clear, giving her a small hug and a kiss on the cheek. She seemed surprised to see me still at home and not at the restaurant yet but managed to hide it well, replacing it with genuine guilt on her wrinkled, yet still youthful Sophia Loren-looking, face.