Page 12 of Marcello

It would just start a fight between her and Papa. She would scream at him, kick up some trouble –

And if Fausto found out about it, something terrible might happen.

I’d thought about setting up my new phone to get my email, but after her message, I decided against it.

Mama would never stop emailing me; I knew that.

And I also knew that if I read her messages, I would eventually give in and write back.

I logged out with a heavy heart and decided never to look again. At least, not until I’d gotten out from under Fausto’s thumb.

I gazed at the photo of Mama, Gemma, and Edoardo.

Right then and there, I decided, I’ll do whatever it takes to get back to my family.

WHATEVER it takes –

No matter what.

Before I left for the morning, I spent five minutes memorizing Fausto’s phone number. I did the same for my new cell, too.

I thought about leaving my money at the hotel, then decided against it. If the maid found my stash, or if somebody broke in, I was screwed. Bad enough they’d get the laptop; I wasn’t about to part with all my money, too.

When I left the hotel, I put my phone and money in my left pocket and kept my hand in it at all times. There was no way a pickpocket was going to take my shit.

For breakfast, I bought a pastry at a street food vendor. It was a sfogliatella – a flaky, shell-shaped pastry filled with sweet ricotta cheese and dusted with powdered sugar.

Delicious.

Despite all the crappy things happening to me in Naples, at least the food was amazing.

Then I started looking for employment.

I didn’t think I would have much luck trying to find work in an office without a university degree, so I decided to take whatever I could get.

I asked at every shop I passed – every restaurant, pizza parlor, café, clothing store, and trinket-selling tourist shop.

Nobody was hiring.

I knew times were tough, but I’d never had to work while I was at university, so I didn’t know how tough.

I got more street food for lunch – a frittatina di pasta, a handheld patty made of macaroni, peas, ham, and cheese that was breaded and fried.

Absolutely delicious.

So far, Naples was three for three on food.

Then I started the job search again.

I must have checked with 80 different businesses before I finally saw a hand-written sign taped to the glass door of a pizzeria:

Cercammo nu’ lavapiatti

I recognized lavapiatti. That meant ‘dishwasher.’

But if the sign meant, ‘Looking for a dishwasher,’ in Italian it would’ve been Cercasi lavapiatti.

I figured cercammo meant ‘looking for’ – it was close to cercasi – but I had no idea what nu’ meant.