“He who sleeps catches no fish. Get dressed. Come. I’ll buy you coffee.”
“Okay…okay…” Her head was still foggy with sleep. “I need a shower first. My shift starts at zero seven thirty.”
—
The city was starting to wake. A garbage truck rumbled along the cobblestones, two men in city uniforms jumping out to empty the bins. An old lady leaned out the door of her house, cigarette perched between her fingers. She waved and called to Raoul as he passed, andNikki waited while her father diverted to greet her and ask after her son.
“So good to have you back,” she shouted as he walked away.
He started whistling.
This charged, ready-to-go, early-morning man was a familiar fixture from Nikki’s childhood, but she hadn’t seen this version of her father for a long time.
“What’s gotten into you?” she asked.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “Oh good. Massimo’s is open. Let’s say hello.”
—
A small crowd gathered at the bar where Massimo Fattore stood at the espresso machine, pulling coffees. Carlo sat at the cash register, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled, tattoos on hairy forearms.
Someone spotted Raoul, and a cry rose up.
“Raoul! Raoul Serafino! Where have you been? Good to see you!”
He was kissed and patted and answered questions from men whom Nikki barely recognized.
Nikki endeavored to keep a low profile, but this sort of attention was standard practice for her father, and he stood in the center of the adulating crowd, answering questions and saying things like “How’s the leg, Luigi?” and “Has your wife had that surgery yet?” and “That motorbike was a bad idea. Anyone could see that. The engine was shot.”
Nikki edged away from her father, crossing to Carlo, who gave her a smile and nod.
“What for you today, bella?”
“Cappuccino for me. And one for my father.”
“I thought he preferred espresso,” Carlo said.
“Does he?” Nikki hadn’t remembered.
She was relieved to see that Massimo looked like his old self, dancing the familiar steps at the espresso machine. But it was difficult to put aside the recollection of him standing at her door the day before yesterday, shaky and confused.
Massimo winked at her. “Ciao, bella. Chocolate for you this morning? Will you take a cornetto?”
“Certo.”
Behind her, Raoul’s belly laugh was an echo of another era. It struck an ache in Nikki’s chest.
Massimo called loudly, “Cornetto for you, Raoul? Chocolate? Crema?”
Raoul pivoted to Massimo, and his grin spread even further. “My doctor says no chocolate…but maybe just this once.”
“What are you doing in the city?” someone asked.
“Oh, a little of this. A little of that.”
“Don’t be so mysterious!”
“Nothing mysterious about it! Just some business to attend to. You know how it is.”
