The Queen of Minor Disasters (15 page)

Imagine having to deal with a
husband like that. Poor lady.

The rest of the night goes
smoothly. To make amends Mr. Klean leaves Barbie a big tip, so she’s smiling as
she does her check out.

Everyone is buzzing around,
doing his or her side work but for some reason, I’m still feeling frazzled.
Between breaking up with Drew, my parents’ big news, the heat, and the stress
of the business, I just want to crawl into bed. Thankfully tomorrow is the
Fourth and we’re closed.

“Want to go to the beach
tomorrow?” I ask Lucy as we are folding napkins.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna
do,” she replies distantly.

What’s
with
her lately?

“Is your family down again?” I
snap.

“Yeah, they actually are.” She
stands to put her stack of napkins away. “I’m meeting them out tonight.”

I don’t believe her.  All of
my anger comes back. “Oh yeah? Where are you going?”

She looks put off. “I don’t
know, I’ll call them when we finish.”

It’s already 1:30 a.m. but the
bars are open until 4:00 a.m., and should be fun, especially on the night
before the Fourth.

I wait for her to invite me.

Instead, she takes her money
off the table and grabs her bag. “Everything’s done.”

The other waiters pick up
their money and head for the door. Lucy moves along with them and waves goodbye
as she exits.

“What’s up with Luce?” Mario
asks. He enters the dining room just as the waiters are leaving.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Her
family’s down.”

“Don’t they usually rent out
their house until the end of August?” he asks sitting down.

He’s right. They’ve never
spent a full summer here. This makes me even madder than before. Then it
clicks. Lucy has a boyfriend. I know it.

But why would she hide him
from me?

 “Want to grab a drink at
Bob’s?” I’m practically begging my brother to hang out, because honestly, I
just don’t feel like going home.

“Stella, I’m beat. If I even
have a sip of wine, I’ll probably pass out.” He stands. “Do you mind waiting
for the dishwashers to finish up? I want to go home.”

“Where’s Lorenzo?” I ask.
Usually he waits for the kitchen staff to finish.

“He left already. He said
something about going out with friends tonight.”

Again, I’m hurt. My best
friend is being shady, and now, even my family doesn’t want to hang out.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll wait.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell
you. Gina and Pietro are down for the night, so you need to sleep on the
couch.”

Lovely.

I hear the Russian pop music
blasting through the kitchen doors so I figure they’re mopping the floors by
now. I take the time to think about Drew and before I know it, my eyes start to
mist.

Why hasn’t be called?

I mean, honestly, how can you
go from loving someone for three years to just totally shutting them out?

This is craziness and it has
to end.

I see Ivan the dishwasher’s
cell phone on the table and reach for it. Before I can stop myself I dial
Drew’s number and hit send.

My heart pounds as the phone
rings once, twice…

“Hello,” he says. Just hearing
his voice makes my heart leap up into my throat. He answered! I knew he would
answer! “Hello?” I can hear really loud music in the background and it’s
obvious that he’s out at a bar. Well, good for him.

“Hey Drew,” I say hesitantly.

“Stella?” he asks as if he’s
not sure. Has he forgotten my voice already?

I hear some muffled noise in
the background and some high-pitched laughter.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I reply
calmly. “How are you?”

“It’s almost two a.m.” He
sounds angry. It’s not like he’s in bed or anything. “Christ.”

This is so not going as
planned. For a minute I contemplate hanging up, but that would just be weird.
“Sorry. Am I disturbing you?”

“Well it is July 3. I’m at a
party.” I hear more laughter in the background and what I think is some girl
calling Drew’s name. She sounds like a slut.

I’m about to ask what his
plans are for tomorrow, when I hear the music in the kitchen shut off.  Stefan
and Ivan come out, their shirts drenched in sweat and dishwater. “We are done,”
Stefan says in his thick Russian accent. I just stand there paralyzed holding
Ivan’s phone in my hand. Then, in one swift motion, I click it shut and place
it back on the table, and pretend that I was only looking at it.

The Russians look at me as if
I’m nuts.

“Ok.” I walk towards the doors
hoping they’ll follow me. “Have a good night.” Out of the corner of my eye, I
see Ivan tentatively pick up his phone and follow me.  I hold the door open
while they exit.

“Happy Fourth of July,” Ivan
says. I smile because I think I’m in the clear. This is their first American
holiday and they’re very excited about it. Earlier in the week, Stefan told me
about the barbeque they’re planning to have on the beach. All of their Russian
friends are going. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help feeling pathetic. Even
the Russians have plans, while the only thing I’ve got going on is the Lancetti’s
stupid barbeque.

Yields 4 servings

The name of this pasta
translates to “angry penne” and honestly, it is. Even though Lorenzo and Mario
were making fun of me with this one, it was really fitting. I was mad. No, in
fact, I still am.

1 lb penne           

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 cloves of garlic, minced

1 28oz can of crushed tomatoes

1 tablespoon crushed red
pepper flakes (as hot as you like them)

2 tablespoons basil, chopped

salt to taste

1)
     
Bring 10 cups of salted water to boil. Add pasta.

2)
     
While the pasta is cooking, heat the olive oil in a
large saucepan over high heat.

3)
     
Add garlic and cook until golden.

4)
     
Add the crushed tomatoes, pepper flakes, basil, and
salt. Lower the heat and let the sauce simmer for 10-15 minutes.

5)
     
Drain pasta and toss into the sauce.

6)
     
Top with grated cheese and more pepper, if desired.

It’s not even 9:00 a.m. when I
hear my mom and Gina talking about the wedding.

Not that I don’t love wedding
talk, but seriously, isn’t there anything
else
to talk about?

 I try to roll over into a
more comfortable position but it’s no use; the couch is as old as the house,
and every way I turn, I’m hit by a different spring. I get up and walk into the
kitchen.

“We need to buy a new couch,”
I announce bitterly.

Mom and Gina look up at me as
if I have three heads. “Good morning,” my mom says. “Did you sleep well?”

I shuffle towards the coffee
pot and pour myself a cup. “No.”

“Well you can sleep on the
beach,” Gina replies. “I bought these beautiful beach towels at Saks. They’re
amazing.”

“I think I’m just gonna stay
in today.” I rub my eyes.

They both stare at me. “Are
you serious?” my mom asks. She knows how much I love sitting on the beach long
into the evening hours, and this is the only chance I’ll have to do that until
September.

But somehow, the thought of
sitting on the beach with my entire family is not appealing. Not after everyone
abandoned me last night.

“Yeah. I just don’t feel like
it.”

“Siete tutti pazzi,” my mom
mumbles. Whenever my mother wants to badmouth her children, she does so in
Italian, even though we all understand exactly what she’s saying. Today,
apparently all of her children are crazy, not just me. This makes me feel
better.

“What’s going on now?” my
dad’s voice booms as he enters the kitchen.

“Nothing,” I say.

“All of our children are
weird.” My mom starts. “Lorenzo’s not coming to the barbeque and Stella doesn’t
want to go to the beach. Gina and Pietro came all the way down to stay with the
family, and now everyone is separated.”

Gina lowers her head. It’s not
fair that my mom threw her under the bus, but Gina should know this is one of
my mother’s famous tactics. Whenever she’s upset about something, she tries to
place the blame on someone else, instead of just admitting that she’s mad.
Again, it’s probably another form of repression. We DiLucio’s are famous for
it.

 I move to the couch and turn
on the TV. I plan to veg out right here in my pajamas for the rest of the day.
Maybe I won’t even go to the barbeque. Lord knows I don’t want to deal with
Mrs. Lancetti force-feeding everyone carbs all night long. Plus, I’m sure
Roberto will be there and I can’t take the embarrassment of having to explain
that I actually don’t have a boyfriend.

When Gina and my mom leave, I
try to call Lucy to see if she wants to come over, but her phone goes straight
to voicemail.

Honestly, I’m still a little
mad that she didn’t invite me out last night. If she does have a boyfriend why
is she keeping him secret?

Is she scared I’ll judge him?

I would never judge.           

Unless he’s a
total
loser. But that’s what friends are
for right? I mean, if I started dating someone horrible, I’d
want
my best friend to intervene.

At around three, after I’ve
watched about fifteen episodes of Judge Judy, I decide that I should go to the
Lancetti’s party. For one thing, if I don’t I’ll never hear the end of it. And
for another thing, the food is usually amazing and after last night I could
really go for some Food Therapy. Plus they always have an open bar stocked with
plenty of top shelf stuff. Part of me wants to see Roberto too. Just for some
innocent flirting to boost my ego after the blow it took last night. I still
have every intention of getting Drew back, I just may need to change my
strategy a bit.

By the time my family gets
back from the beach, I’m already showered and ready to go to the barbeque.

While the rest of the house
showers, I take time to apply make-up. The downstairs powder room is small but
has the perfect mirror, and for once, I think I look good from any angle.
Miraculously, my hair is set in loose waves, without even the suggestion of
frizz. My face is clear despite all the milk I drink (take that Gina), and the
kiss of sun brings out the deep olive hues in my skin.

As usual, Gina has brought her
entire make-up kit down for the night, and she lets me use whatever I want, so
I browse through the various shades of eye shadow, settling on a translucent
mushroom shade called “brownstone.” I like it so much that I consider asking
Gina if I can keep it. After all, she can pick up a new one at any time.