Posted by admin on Feb 07, 2016
“Sonia! Vengono I miei amici per cena,” announced Tiziana as she scurried into our apartment, dropping her bag with her chef uniform and knife set, at the door, for everyone to trip over. I had almost tripped over it numerous times when I had come home at night.
One of Tiziana’s friends went to Sardegna and came back with traditional ingredients from that region. Tiziana had announced, as she entered, was that everyone from her class were all coming over; so that her friend could cook the new ingredients and that they all have a party. This was not the first party that Tiziana had arranged without asking me first and I was starting to feel angry.
I had a test that week and really wanted to study. There was a test every week including a cooking test and given that Italian was my second language. I had to study harder than most other people and the regular parties and dirty kitchen were starting to become annoying. But I didn’t want to start an argument. I had said my piece about being informed earlier but Tiziana never listened. There were some lovely qualities about her, but she lacked any understanding of boundaries with people, or that not everyone liked to go out and party until all hours of the night.
Tiziana did the usual running around in getting ready. In the bathroom doing her eye makeup then in the bedroom looking for only God knows what, and then back in the bathroom to finish her eye makeup. It would always be back and forth with her and I never understood how she was ever going to be a chef with such a total lack of organisation. Her books and notes sprawled all over the floor of her room as well as around the house. Her clothes were the same. It never seemed to occur to her put her clothes away each time she took them off. They went straight on the floor and after a few days had to be washed because she had stepped all over them. But they were likely on the floor because she hadn’t taken them off but rather someone else in a moment of high excitement and passion.
Tiziana still had her on again off again boyfriend and they had recently made up and were on again. But another boy was coming to the party that Tiziana liked. I don’t recall his name as I only heard sounds coming from Tiziana’s bedroom, whenever he came over. The boy had a girlfriend as well, back in his home state. Tiziana loved this boy for some unknown reason. She kept hoping he would want her, but after one of their four hour sex romps, he would stop calling her and even at school he would ignore her.
“Lui ce la paura,” Tiziaiana kept telling me that she believed he was scared.
“What do you think he could possibly be scared about?” I asked Tiziana in Italian.
“Scared of commitment,” he just left his relationship and is afraid to get involved again” she would insist.
I told Tiziana that this is the biggest lie if there ever was one. That if he wanted her he would have her and nothing would stop him. But Tiziana refused to understand. Some of it was due to her age. But some of it, as far as I was concerned had to do with deeper issues that I will not delve into right now.
“Ma Perche? Perche lui fa cosi?”
Tiziana kept crying and asking the same question over and over again as to why this boy would ignore her one day, and love her the next. Getting frustrated with me when I wouldn’t answer, because I had enough of the same stupid question with no resolution.
Anyway the young man causing Tiziana such heartache had arrived, and Tiziana kept asking me how she looked. She promised me that she will not do anything with him because he had not spoken to her in over a week after their last sex romp.
Eight hours later.
“Ah si si, bravo bravooooo Bravoooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!