Elisabetta spotted Sandro hurrying toward her, with a brown paper bag. It looked as if it contained supplì, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. She was coming to understand that she placed too much significance on matters that boys didn’t think twice about, which was leading to a generalized restlessness about romance. She tried to put it from her mind.
“Ciao!” she called to him, as he got closer.
“I brought supplì,” Sandro said, sitting down beside her. He opened the bag, took out supplì wrapped in wax paper, and handed her one with a napkin.
“Thank you.” Elisabetta accepted the supplì, its breading warm in her fingertips. She felt happy, but tried not to feel too happy. She took a bite of suppli, which tasted cheesy and filling.
Meanwhile Sandro chewed his supplì, which left olive oil shining on his lips, and she found herself noticing his mouth anew. She wondered if he would kiss her again, as he was sitting undeniably close, his hip touching hers, which sent a thrill through her body, though she tried to make normal conversation.
“So, are you enjoying La Sapienza?”
Sandro shrugged. “I do my assignments and hand them in, but no one gets back to me to tell me if I’m doing well or badly.”
“I know what you mean. The restaurant is the same way.”
Sandro chewed his supplì. “These are so delicious. Is it possible that food can make you feel good?”
“Of course.”
“That is, food and excellent company.” Sandro grinned down at her.
“That’s just how I feel.” Still she tried not to get excited.
“Where’s your paper?” Sandro cocked his head. “I miss your views on the news of the day.”
“No more newspapers. It’s all propaganda and it makes me too angry.” Elisabetta had been too embarrassed to tell him about her essay and Gualeschi. “I’m reading only books these days. Mostly Grazia Deledda, she’s a wonderful author.”
“I’ve heard of her, but haven’t read her. What does she write about?”
“Families and love. People say they’re women’s books, but I don’t agree.”
“Nor do I. I’m interested in such things.”
“I’m learning so much from reading her.” Elisabetta warmed to the topic, since Sandro loved to read, too. “Sadly, she passed away recently, and her last book, Cosima, was published after her death. She won the Nobel Prize in Literature, did you know that? She was the first Italian woman to win.”
“And you’ll be the second?”
“Ha!” Elisabetta flushed.
He shrugged again. “You should write a novel. I bet you can do it.”
“Do you think so? Isn’t that too much to hope for?”
“Not at all.” Sandro grinned. “You can write anything you want to. I have faith in you. What do your parents say?”
Elisabetta hesitated. “Um, well, my father would say I should try, and my mother, well, she left this summer. She said she wasn’t happy and she didn’t want to stay.”
“Oh no.” Sandro’s face fell, and he touched her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, what happened? Did your parents have a fight?”
“No, not really, she just said she had to go.” Elisabetta didn’t want to explain to him about her father’s drinking, as it was shame upon shame. She doubted Sandro would understand, since his family was so respectable, with a father who was a lawyer and a mother who was a doctor, and nobody a drunk. Elisabetta had come to understand that her family was lower class, something she hadn’t completely realized before her mother’s departure.
“When will she come back?”
“I don’t think she will.”
Sandro frowned in a sympathetic way. “I’m sure she will.”
“No, she won’t.” Elisabetta could tell from his guileless expression that he couldn’t conceive of a mother leaving her own family, because his mother never would.
“How do you know?”
Elisabetta realized how she knew, and it broke her heart all over again. “She took her gramophone, and that was what she loved the most in the world.”
“So how are you getting along?” Sandro asked, nonplussed.
“Fine,” Elisabetta answered, feeling a deep pain inside her chest. She hadn’t realized how upset she was until this very moment, and she found herself flashing on her mother walking out the door, as if it were happening right now. Tears filmed her eyes, but she blinked them away.