“My English is a bit rusty. I’m not sure what kind of impression I’ll make.”
“You don’t have to go to the queen’s for breakfast. You know enough.” Foliero has barely traveled outside of Italy, but his father was an English teacher and forced him to learn it, even if he hasn’t used it in forty years. “I need your moral support more than anything.”
“Your father would be proud of you, Elisa.”
I take a bottle of Chianti that we opened at dinner and pour us two glasses. “Shall we toast?”
We’re about to raise our glasses, when Giada opens the kitchen door. “Elisa, crisis alert. You have to come to the annex.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. Linda didn’t want to tell me—strangely—she locked herself in your room and is waiting for you. She’s been sobbing in there for half an hour.”
“What happened, Little Cub?” I ask, taking a seat on my bed. She’s lying face down, the mattress muffling her desperate cries.
“You were right. You can’t trust men, and I was stupid. I’m not as smart as you thought!” Her sentence is like a blow between the eyes. In three seconds I see the ultrasound monitor, Linda with a baby bump, and the delivery room bed.
I’m not ready, but I can face it. “Linda, remember that we’re a family; you’ll never be alone.”
“I hate Tommasooo.”
Of course, who else would be responsible for this? There was no one to go after George for what he did, but if I catch that little bastard around, I’ll play him like a bongo, I swear to God. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I ask her. “I mean, I don’t want details. Just broad strokes.”
Linda gets to her feet, all her anger on display. “Do you remember how he and I took the Cambridge English exam? He did it to go play soccer in England, and I needed it for high school in London.”
“Of course, the exam!” Okay, a story that starts with the Cambridge English exam can’t include unprotected sex, right?
“We got our results today.”
“And? Did one of you end up failing?”
“Oh no. We both passed. And then Tommaso dumped me not ten minutes later.”
“Thank God!” I blurt out.
She looks at me, offended. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing, just ... How could he have left you?”
“He said he only dated me because I was better than him at English and could help him pass the exam. Now that it’s over, I’m no longer ofuse to him. And I was even dumb enough to sneak the translations to him. If I’d gotten caught, I could have been disqualified!”
“I have no words,” I comment, astonished. “He doesn’t even have facial hair yet, and he’s already that calculating? What an idiot.”
“I really liked him, and he took advantage of me! I hope he gets injured and his soccer career goes down the toilet,” she curses him.
“That’s a very bad thing to wish for,” I say, “but to hell with good manners. Let’s hope he’s stuck on the bench for life.”
Giada sticks her head in through the crack in the door. “Can I come in? I brought hot chocolate and biscuits,” she announces as she enters with a tray in hand. “I heard everything, and I think this may be the cure we need.”
“Whywe?” asks Linda, taking the cup with the most whipped cream.
“Because chocolate is the best glue for fixing broken hearts, and it can do nothing but good for me and your mother too.” My sister sits on the bed with us, the tray in the center.
“What about the biscuits?” asks Linda again.
“The biscuits are the bandages that hold the pieces together while the glue sets,” I say.
“How many times can a broken heart be put back together, Mom?” Linda’s questions ...
