Gabrielo's point of view

"Young man, where are you going?" my mother asks.

I turn towards the kitchen door. She is chopping vegetables with her back facing me. She turns towards me and watches me up and down. She puts her knife down before walking out of the room and looking around me.

"Where is she?"

"Who ?"

"Your wife."

"Not here, that's for sure."

"Son, come here," she says, grabbing my arm. "I invited you and your wife to meet her, didn't I?"

"Yes, except she's not ready to meet you all yet," I said.

"That's not the point, if she doesn't come, don't come."

"What? I thought I was your favourite son."

"My favourite son? When was the last time you called to check on me?"

"Thanksgiving? No, before your wedding anniversary. You remember when I booked you on a Mediterranean cruise?"

"Gabrielo, that was like six months ago. Can you believe it? Six months," she insisted with a tense smile.

"You know what ? I'll go to the lounge," I say.

I start mumbling and see my father laughing at me. Laugh, laugh, we'll see. Always messing with people around here. I fall back on the couch and grab a can of Coke.

"I knew I should have sent you to Italy on a one-way trip," I mumbled.

"Mum, Gabrielo said he was going to send you back to where you came from so you'd never come back," Alex shouts.

I glare at my little brother. My mother comes quickly into the living room and looks me up and down.

"I beg your pardon? So you're talking about exterminating me in my own house?"

"First of all, that's not true. I am a victim of slander. And he didn't say anything," I said, pointing at my father.

"Rosa," my father calls out as he stands up.

My mother glares at him sharply. He tries to approach her and she backs away and threatens him with her spatula. He sighs and rolls his eyes as he sits down beside me.

"It's all because of you, Alex. And you, Gabrielo, shut up. Don't add fuel to the fire," my father whispers.

We all turn to my mother who is staring at us. She walks back and forth in front of us before looking at us in turn.

"I wasted my youth on you," she says, pointing at us with her spatula. "Especially you, Giuseppe."

My father straightens up on the sofa, shaking his head.

"And you talk about getting tid of me in my own house? Well, that's fine. Nobody eats what I've cooked tonight. You, Gabrielo, don't come back without your wife. Giuseppe, the sofa is available tonight."

"But mom, I didn't say anything bad. I just said you could go back to Italy as you wanted."

"Keep on taking me for a fool," she hisses, looking me up and down.

"You know very well that's not true," I countered.

"I was beautiful, young, charming even. I attracted attention everywhere I went. The parties, the nightclubs, I dropped everything. For what? My own son who wants to kick me out of my own house."

My father gets up to hug my mother. I'm screwed. He's going to wait for her to calm down so he can give me a hard time. My mother smiles at me over my father's shoulder. She sniffs and pretends to wipe her eyes before heading back to the kitchen.

"Gabrielo."

"Dad."

"Who do you think you are to talk to my wife like that?"

"She's my mother too," I said.

"She was my wife before she decided to be your mother."

He starts swearing at full speed in Italian. I put my head down and wait for him to finish his lecture.

"On Monday I want all the files finished by 8 o'clock and on my desk", he demands.

"That's impossible, there are far too many. I wouldn't even have time to sleep!"

"Then you'd better hurry. And don't forget to apologise to your mother. Oh, and Alex, you'd better have a good excuse for scratching my new car. You think I'd forget because you're diverting attention to your brother?"

I'm rushing upstairs to start work. Given how upset my mother was, I'm sure she'll be fussing for hours if we eat her dinner. I'd better wait until she falls asleep. It's a good thing I ate at Alma's. Otherwise I'd be starving.

I take out my phone and see a call from Alma. I call her back without wasting any time. Maybe she's had a change of heart.

"Gabrielo, I'm not disturbing you?"

"No, you wanted to tell me something?"

"I have the money for a divorce", she says.

"I'll call my lawyer to discuss it on Monday morning," I say in a low voice.

I wanted to make it work. It's stupid to think that, but I gave her my first time. The one I was saving for my wife. And now that we've met again after so many years, I wanted to believe in destiny.

"Gabrielo, wait! What I wanted to say was that... I didn't want you to think I was staying with you for your money. You look like you're well off to me and I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"Alma," I cut her off, feeling a wave of relief. "You know, we've met before. I know you're not like that. And I wouldn't marry a gold digger."

"When was that?"

"A long time ago, except you wouldn't tell me your name back then. What if we made a bet?"

"What kind of bet?"

"If you don't remember the first time we met by next Sunday, you have to have dinner with me."

"And if I do remember?"

"You can ask me for anything you want, as long as I can afford it, I'll make sure you get it."

"No problem, I want a house. Prepare to lose."

I'd like to see that.

__________

"GABRIELO!"

I jump and get up abruptly in my bed. A dizziness overtakes me. Alex is standing in front of me with an empty glass. We can still see the drops of water running down. He has soaked me in cold water.

"I hope you have a good reason for pouring cold water on me early in the morning, otherwise I'll deal with you."

"It's 9 o'clock," he exclaims. "Dad was expecting you at the office at eight o'clock sharp."

Shit.

I hurriedly get up and put on my clothes. I brush my teeth as fast as I can before leaving the house, files under my arm. My father's secretary is parked in front of the house and waves at me to get in fast.

"You're late."

"Tell me something I didn't already know."

"Your father is going to kill you. He's been waiting for you for more than an hour with those documents. The whole staff has been gathered in the meeting room for 10 minutes already."

"I'd better run when I get there, right?"

"No, walk as if everything was fine. What would be worse than being late is arriving late and dishevelled."

The car stops in front of the building and the secretary hands over the car keys to the boy in uniform. I follow him, looking straight ahead. The curious eyes of the employees are fixed on me.

We finally arrive at the meeting room. I walk over to my father and bend down to listen to what he has to say.

"I said 8 o'clock," he states.

Even in a low voice, I could detect the anger in his voice.

"It's true, but since I'm already late, I suggest we move on."

A coughing fit draws my attention. Alma is facing me, choking on her glass of water. A redheaded woman is rubbing her back and talking to her in a low voice. Our eyes meet and I smile at her.

What is she doing here?