“You’re not ready; I get that. But don’t take too long before you get back on the horse, Bria.” I knew she’d never admit it, but she was still smarting after the breakup with her longtime boyfriend, Paulo. They’d met in high school and were voted the couple most likely to get hitched. Unfortunately, love isn’t an exact science, and Paulo spent the summer after graduation in the arms of another.
“Yes, Mom,” she said, as she rolled her eyes and put her feet up on the dashboard. “I’ll dust off the saddle soon and ride that stallion until he bleeds.”
“I fear for the unsuspecting stallion. Go easy on the whip, darling.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get me home. I’m a goner.”
“Ciao!” I shouted out the window as she opened the front door to her apartment.
“Ciao, bella. Sweet dreams of your prince.”
The night was over way too soon. My feet throbbed from all the dancing, and a warm bath before bed did wonders for my aching body.
I wondered about the enigmatic Joe—where he was from, why I hadn’t seen him on the streets of Palermo, what his family did for a living. He was a mystery to me—a riddle I couldn’t wait to solve.
My eyes were heavy as I lay staring at the ceiling. When Joe and I’d arrived back at the club, he’d asked me for my phone number. I’d tried not to look too keen, but who was I kidding? A blind man without a stick or a guide dog could see that I’d come over all “ah shucks” when he’d said goodnight. I expected him to kiss me goodnight, but he simply kissed me on the cheek and off he went. Was he playing hard to get?
***
JOE
The phone rang early on Sunday morning. It was Fabio.
“Hey, sleeping beauty, get your ass out of bed; we’re playing soccer this morning. The boys are meeting us down at the club. Let’s go kick some ass.”
“Don’t you ever lie in, you bloody fool?” I was still wiping the sleep from my eyes.
“I’ll lie in when I’m dead. Now, get moving. I’ll fetch you in half an hour.”
He hung up before I could argue. ADHD wasn’t a common diagnosis in the seventies, but I was convinced that he was the founding member and president of the ‘“I can’t stay still for more than five minutes” club. There was no point in arguing with Fabio, so I got up and dug around in my closet for my soccer kit.
Dressed and ready, I popped into the kitchen downstairs where I grabbed Maria’s famous fette biscottate, fresh from the oven. Together, with a strong cup of coffee, breakfast went down like a homesick mole.
“Joe!” My father’s voice came from the direction of his study. He was an early riser and already busy at his desk.
“Si, Papa.” I made my way down the passage to see him.
“Come in, my son. Sit. I wanted to talk to you.”
My father’s impressive mocha oak desk was piled high with files; journals; unopened gifts; expensive whiskey, if I were forced to hazard a guess; and a silver soccer boot of the young and upcoming star of Italian soccer, midfielder Mario Tardelli. My father was a soccer fanatic. He’d sponsored many talented young players and was seen often at big matches. It was his passion.
“It’s time for you to join the business, Joe. I didn’t send you to expensive schools abroad for nothing. You are a smart young man. I need you to step up and help me run the family’s enterprises.”
“I understand, Papa, and I agree. But I’ve just graduated, and I’m happy to be back in Sicily. I’ve missed my friends, and I’d like to enjoy the last few weeks of summer before I start my career.”
“I was young once. I remember carefree days spent with friends and pretty girls, lying on the beach and dancing ‘til all hours of the morning. But there comes a time when a man must step up and take care of business. You have done well to honor us with your diligence at university, Son, so I’ll thank you by giving you the rest of summer to play. But as soon as that’s done, you will work side by side with me, and I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“Thank you, Papa. I promise to work hard and make you proud.”
“I know you will, Son.”
Fabio announced his arrival with his usual boisterous antics. Maria chased him out of the kitchen with her rolling pin as he chuckled.
“Basta, you naughty boy!”
My father rolled his eyes and said, “Off you go, son. Go keep an eye on Fabio before he breaks something.”
“Grazie, Papa. Arrivederci.”
“Okay, you hooligan, let’s get rid of some of that energy of yours.” I grabbed my bag as we left poor Maria in peace.
ELEANORA
I awoke early on Sunday morning to the sounds and smells of a perfect summer’s day. I had slept well, so I got dressed to go for a run. Summers in Palermo were intensely hot—exercise was best done early—and I couldn’t make it through the day without my morning endorphin rush.
I thought about Joe while I ran. Why had I not seen him before? I certainly would have noticed such a handsome face. He was a few years older than I, about four years by my reckoning, so perhaps, he’d been away studying. He must be someone, I’d thought, by the reactions of the club manager and café owner when they had noticed him. Perhaps his parents were influential in Palermo. I would find out soon enough. I was sweating like a racehorse by the time I got back home.
My mother was in the kitchen making breakfast. “Morning, my darling. I’d like you to help me prepare for
