Chapter 3 – Bea
After Marco left the store, he called me a few hours later and asked if I could pick Aurora and Alessia up from school because he had to stay late with a client. Of course, I agree. And before heading over there, I swung by his office, where he said he’d have their booster seats sitting outside.
“Hey, girls! Do you need help getting buckled in?”
“Nah.”
“Okay. How was your day at school?”
“Good,” they answer at the same time.
“That’s good. What did you learn?”
“That Rome is the capital of Italy!” Aurora blurts out.
“Oh! Wow. That’s true. You know what else? That’s also where your dad was born.”
“Yeah, I told Miss Sullivan that,” her sister says.
“And what did she say?”
“That it was cool.”
“Well, it is pretty cool. Don’t you think?
“Meh. I guess.”
“I think it is. Do you know where my parents are from?”
They shake their heads.
“Hazelhurst, Wisconsin. Just like you and just like me. Your dad is from Europe.”
They still don’t seem too impressed.
“You’ll appreciate it more when you’re older,” I suggest, and then take off.
I know Marco very well, and I doubt he has enough groceries to prepare a sufficient dinner. So, I stop at our local market.
“What should we make for dinner?”
“Hmm.” I watch as their little eyes scan the shelves.
“Since you were talking about Italy at school today, why don’t we make something from there?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay, how about cacio e pepe?”
“Huh?”
I giggle. “It’s literally cheese and pasta. It’s really delicious. How does that sound?”
They nod.
“Great.”
We walk around and collect everything I need—noodles, Pecorino Romano cheese, cracked pepper, and a little bit of basil for garnish, and I ask them more about the facts they learned about their dad’s home country.
“It looks like a high-heel boot,” Alessia answers.
“That’s right. It does.”
“And the island of Sicily looks like a soccer ball that’s being kicked by the boot.”
“Huh.” I think back to my old geography lessons. “I guess that’s also kind of true.”
They’re rattling off more facts when I accidentally bump into a woman.
“Oh, I’m sorry—”
“Hello, Beatrice! Wow. Am I lucky or what? Seeing my kid twice in one day?”
“Mom! Uh, I’m sure you remember Alessia and Aurora. They’re Marco’s daughters.”
“Ah, yes.” She has already voiced her concern over me “playing mommy” for them, and she doesn’t hide her feelings well. So, an outsider looking in would think she was heartless as she just glared at their sweet, cherubic faces.
“Girls, this is my mom.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Aurora mutters while holding her hand out.
My mother takes it, but she’s clearly not thrilled about it. And when she pulls away, she makes sure to wipe it on the back of her jeans sufficiently.
“What’s all that for?” she asks, looking at the basket I’m carrying.
“We’re making cat yoyo pepe!” Alessia offers.
I stifle a little laugh. “Cacio e pepe.”
“I see.”
Yeah, mom. I get it. You don’t like it when I cook for them. God forbid you find out that I’m actually dating their father. However, I remember that Marco is telling people, so the chances of her finding out in our small community were pretty high. So, I make a note to come clean when we aren’t around his small children.
“Well, we’d better get going.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Once we checked out, both kids asked for candy, and I allowed both of them to pick out one thing.
“Thank you, Bea.”
“You’re welcome. You deserve a little treat because you were so helpful in the store. That’s only going to continue tonight while we make dinner, right?” I’m mainly talking to Alessia, as she’s my kitchen helper.
“Yeah!” she answers.
“Great.”
After that, I load them and the groceries into the car.
“Hey, Bea?” Aurora asks after I get into the driver’s side.
“Yeah?”
“Why is your mommy so mean?”
I swoop both sides of my hair behind my ears. “Oh, sweetie. She isn’t mean. I think she was just having a bad day. Try not to take it personally.” In fact, I can’t remember a time when my mom didn’t have a bad day . . . and it seemed insane to me that she was, in fact, once a cannabis-loving flower child. I kept pictures in a box near my bed just for proof when I needed a reminder.
On the drive to their home, I turn on their favorite music, which just so happens to be the old 90s hits that I love because I trained them well.
“You may hate me, but it ain’t no lie. Baby, bye, bye, bye,” they sing in the back while doing the choreography. My heart swells with pride.
It isn’t long before I’m pulling into Marco’s driveway, and we get everything inside. It’s still too early to start making dinner, so I sit with them at the dining table while they do their homework for the night.
“What’s that, Alessia?” I ask after seeing her fill out a strange-looking diagram of sorts.
“A family tree.”
“Really? That’s cool. Can I see what you have so far?”
She shoves it over to me, and I read her dad’s name, her mother’s name, etc. But then, in a random floating spot, she wrote my name.
Aw, I think. However, part of me also worries that her dad will freak out when he sees it. But I don’t want to tell her to erase it. So, I don’t comment on it at all and just give it back. Then, I start cleaning around to pass the time.
“Hey, Bea?” one of them eventually calls me over.
“Yea?”
“How do you spell Caroline?”
“Sound it out. C-ar-o-line.”
I looked, and she wrote, “Cairoline.”
“So close. Take out the first ‘i.’ Then, it’s perfect.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course.”
I go back to the dusting I was doing on top of the cabinets.
When that’s finished, it’s a little bit later, so I start making our meal. I know it will be a while before their father is home, but I reason we can just kind of keep it on simmer and covered until he does.
He has one of those fancy faucets by his stove, so I fill the pot with water and wait for it to boil.
“What can I do?” Alessia offers.
“Do you want to crush some pepper?”
“Sure!”
“Okay, this is called a mortar and a pestle.” I take out the dish and grinder.
“Whoa.”
“I know. Pretty cool, right? So, just take this little thing and press down on those little balls.”
“Like that?”
“Perfect. Great job.”