Chapter 4
The road was ours.
For one month, we ride across Nuova Zelanda, her arms tight around me, her laughter in the wind as we fly through mountains, forests, along the sea where the sky and water touch.
I never plan. Never. One day at a time, that is how I live. But with Nora?
With Nora, I think of tomorrow.
Where we go next, where we stay, what she looks like when the sun comes up in our tent.
I never think like this before.
Then one night, we sit by a lake, the fire low, our feet in the sand.
She look at me, her occhi bright, full of something I don’t know how to name.
And suddenly - I know.
I want her to see my home, my paese, my famiglia.
So I take a breath and say it, fast, before I lose the courage:
"You should come with me. To Italia. To Calabria."
She blink, surprised.
Then she smile, slow, teasing. “Calabria, huh? And what will I find there?”
I grin. "Good food. Good wine. And me."
She laugh, shake her head.
But she don’t say no.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
I take her home.
My paese is small, close to the mare, with old stone houses, olive trees everywhere, vineyards, the smell of bread baking in the morning.
My padre, he is strong, quiet, with hands like stone from working the land. He don’t talk much, but when he speak, you listen.
My madre, she is the heart of the house. Always cooking, talking, kissing everyone’s face like it is the last time she see them.
My nono, he still make wine, the same way his nono did before him. He say, “If the world go crazy, at least we have good wine.”
And my nona—ah, my bella nona! She is small but fierce, with a spoon in one hand and a story in the other.
When we walk into my casa, Nora don’t know what to do.
So many people. So many hugs.
My madre take her face, kiss her twice, once on each cheek. “Mia cara! Sei troppo magra! Vieni, mangia!”
Nora look at me, confused.
I laugh. “She say you are too skinny.”
She smile, and then she eat.
And my madre love her.
We marry in the municipio, in the sun, by the sea.
Small, simple, perfect.
Nora’s madre come, her fratello, her two best friends.
That’s all.
She lost her padre when she was young. I see it in her occhi when she think about him, in the way she stand a little too straight, like holding herself together.
So when we stand there, hand in hand, I hold her tight, let her know she is not alone.
She wear a white dress, no veil, no lace, just Nora.
And when we say “Si,” I kiss her like the first time, like the tent, like she is fire and I am already burning.
Then we move to Silicon Valley.
I never see a place like this. So big. So fast. So… cold.
Big streets, big buildings, big dreams.
Everything new. Everything strange.
Nora is excited. She start working subito, talk about algoritmi, macchine che pensano, il futuro.
I don’t understand it all.
I don’t need to.
She is happy. That is enough for me.
At first, I try to work. I know motori, macchine, how to fix things.
But here? Here, everything is computers, technology.
Then we talk. We make una decisione.
She make more money in one month than I do in a year.
So I stay home.
I cook.
I learn to make pancakes for breakfast, because in America, they eat dolci in the morning. It is strange.
But for dinner? Dinner is Calabria.
Pasta, fish, fresh bread, oil, peperoncini that burn on the tongue.
Then Claire is born.
Mia figlia.
I hold her in my hands, so small, so perfect.
She look at me, and I know. I will never love anything more than this.
I rock Claire to sleep when she cry. I take her to the park. I teach her to swim.
And when Nora work long nights, I sit with Claire and tell her stories.
She look at me, wide-eyed. “Tell me again, Papa.”
And I do.
Because this is my life now. And I love it.
I don’t miss fixing motori.
I don’t miss Calabria.
Because I have them.
And for a long time, this is enough.
But life? Life changes.
And sometimes, it changes too fast.
