Chapter 30
trenta
Under the watchful eyes of Jesus Christ, Sophia Loren, Padre Pio and San Francesco Caracciolo, Francesca and Alessio commandeered the kitchen of Trattoria dei Fiori.
But the kitchen they had so openly shared by night was a very different place by day.
For one thing, Elena was there with her two restrictive casts, instructing and supporting as best she could.
And for another there was Nonna Maria, whose mischievous energy kept them all buoyed through the busiest periods.
For two weeks, mornings were spent picking through the vegetable garden, prepping produce, and laughing with Maria at her quips and stories.
Service time was always busy, but for the most part they worked together like a well-oiled machine.
Francesca and Alessio made a point of working in tandem, communicating their needs, expressing themselves as genuinely as possible.
The clean-up afterwards was a balancing act of getting the job done while trying to keep their hands off one another.
But old habits die hard, and Francesca watched as Alessio experienced difficult moments, too.
His frustration at the late delivery of meat from the macellaio, which resulted in a gentle reminder that ‘Impastino runs at a different speed’.
His clenched fists when they realised that the doors for lunch service would have to open ten minutes late because they hadn’t yet set the tables.
His negative self-talk while plating his orecchiette with broccoli, which he wasn’t completely satisfied with.
The way he berated himself when the pasta machine crank didn’t catch properly and he spun it off the side of the bench.
And the moment they both reached for the handle of a pan of melting butter, only to cause it to flip and burn the back of Francesca’s hand.
He apologised profusely, of course, but his energy dropped under a thick blanket of shame and tainted the rest of service.
With kind words and reassuring touches, Francesca did her best to guide him through those two weeks. And while she found this new situation difficult at times, she knew that no other solution would have worked so well and met so many of their needs.
So, while San Francesco Caracciolo watched on, they learned to cook together, and Trattoria dei Fiori remained the busy, bustling eatery it had always been.
The same energy carried through to Francesca’s little apartment.
The pair slipped seamlessly into a new flow, enjoying the privacy afforded by their own four walls.
They talked long into the night and drank their morning coffee together, just enjoying each other’s company.
Their late-night shifts in the trattoria were made bearable by the knowledge that tenderness and intimacy awaited them in bed.
Despite the cramped conditions, they made space for each other, together.
And it felt almost as if it had always been this way.
On the morning before the second round of the Festa della Pasta, Francesca and Alessio set off towards Simona’s gastronomia, bags and baskets in hand.
Both donning the mandatory plastic gloves, Francesca stopped to smell the red-skinned peaches on display at the fruttivendolo, refusing to leave without half a dozen, and Alessio picked through the black plums, already ripe.
He bagged a dozen. Francesca paid for their purchases, which also included a handful of glossy purple grapes, and while they were standing at the cashier’s counter, Alessio saw an event flyer pinned there.
It advertised a special film screening in town, that much he could decipher.
Dropping her change into her wallet, Francesca stepped forward and caught sight of the flyer too. A wistful sigh escaped her lips but she turned to leave.
‘What was that for?’ he asked, catching her arm as they left the shop.
‘What?’
‘The sigh?’
‘I sighed?’
‘Yes. A sort of sad sigh.’ Alessio watched as her brow creased.
‘Oh. I didn’t realise I did that.’ She turned and pointed back inside at the poster by the checkout. ‘My favourite film is showing here in town tonight. They have advertised it for weeks, but there’s no way I can go. We have too much to do to prepare for tomorrow.’
‘There’s nothing to prepare, except for the restock. Which we are doing now. We have no idea what the challenge will be. Let’s go get some tickets. I’ll come with you.’
He tried to push past her to take a photo of the poster, but Francesca caught him around the middle and pulled him back onto the street. ‘No, Ale. I just can’t. I’ll be too distracted to enjoy it. We can stream it another time.’
He successfully jostled himself free. ‘Is the film Cinema Paradiso, or is that the name of the cinema?’
She closed her eyes. ‘The film.’
‘What’s it about?’ He captured the poster with a quick photo then they continued along the street.
‘Picture a tiny, poor town in Sicily, struggling in the wake of the Second World War.’ Her footsteps slowed and Alessio, weighed down by shopping, gladly matched her pace.
‘Many of the men are gone, lost to the war. A young boy, Totò, finds distraction and enjoyment in the town’s cinema where he makes friends with the man who works there, Alfredo.
It’s a beautiful story of growing up in a rural town, finding relationships, and growing into love.
’ Alessio watched as her gaze rose to the sky.
‘What’s your favourite part?’
‘If I tell you that, it will give away the ending.’
‘Then tell me in a roundabout kind of way.’
‘The censored kisses.’ Her lips pulled into a playful smile. ‘There’s a montage. Right at the end.’
Intrigued by this he said, ‘And you’re sure you don’t want to—’
She stopped short, pulling them to a halt. ‘Ascolta, I can’t. I would love to, but tonight is just very inconvenient. Too inconvenient to go to the cinema.’
Not wanting to press the point further he conceded, ‘No trouble. No cinema. I promise.’
‘Grazie. We have plenty of other things to keep us busy today. Lunch and dinner service. You’re not doing the dinner service, by the way. You need to rest for tomorrow. Now, off to get cheese from Simona.’
Alessio smiled politely. ‘As you wish.’ She didn’t need to know anything about the plan that was brewing in his mind.