Beautiful in Jada

24: Riavvolgere

[10 months later]

Being back in Tropea was a bit strange, but the seasons were changing. Temperatures had dropped from the scorthing summer time, but humdity kept it from getting too cold. I kept busy with work, with long hours in the kitchen of a restaurant and lots of tourists. I foubd myself butting heads with many coworkers, and this being my third restaurant, I had planned to stay here longer than last time. I found it difficult to work under people, especially through stupidity. I would not be yelled at like some fool.

I often found myself menanderi g to the local bars. I lived on the edge of Tropea town, but I snagged up in a decent place for a good price. My mind still drifted to her, I had occationally wished to have been able to bring her here. It was difficult. I was unsure how to grieve, I was unsure how to process everything I was feeling. But I could work and not think about her. Recently, I could go a day or two without thinking about her. I wasn't drinking myself into a stupor anymore. It was a small improvement. I kept to myself and stayed out of trouble. I was a model Italian citizen.

"Alessio, why don't you and I go drinking together tonight?" Beatrice asked. She fluttered her pretty eyes as me as I cooked the chicken dish. Most of the waitresses flirted with me, but she was particularly persistent. She had long brown hair, always in a bun and tan skin from being in the sun often.

"Why?" I asked flatly.

"Okay, at least come out with the group of us. It'll be fun. We can finally get to know you. You barely say anything outside of short one word answers, " Beatrice said with a pout.

"Will you leave me alone after?" I asked.

"Yes, at least once before you say you hate us all," She said excitedly. Unlike other women, she kept her hands to herself. She was fairly kind to everyone. I just nodded. She squeeled. I finished up the chicken and slid it on her plate.

"Great! Thank you!" She said quickly, making her way out onto the floor. She was on the thicker side of an Italian woman, but I liked that about her. I wondered if I would ever pursue someone else. They would always be second place, almost cruel. But, maybe someone would be happy with that. Jada had been gone for around 7 months, but being somewhere else had helped to some extent. I didn't think too long about it before moving on to my next ticket. The calls of the chef filled my head with different commands to keep up with.

By the end of the shift, the whole crew was buzzing as we all piled up to the bar two streets down the road. Many people surrounded me, making conversation among ourselves. I didn't care much about what they had said. I figured getting this done would keep people at bay. I had worked here for almost a month, so staying here for this long was an accomplishment on my self-control. I felt tame. Things that pissed me off before did less than before.  Our crew of about 10 servers, 6 cooks, and 2 mangers piled into the bar, opting to share 3 booths. We filled up this place as the volume in the once quiet bar raised. I sat on the edge, ready to leave. Beatrice managed to find a seat next to me.

"Not so awful, huh?" She said. I shrugged my shoulder. I had no feelings about this. We just walked over. It wasn't too late at a little past midnight. Everything almost felt normal. Our manager immediately ordered a round of Prosecco for everyone to cheer from the staff. I stopped the waitress.

"Just a negroni for me, please," I said. She smiled a goofy look at me but nodded and scurried off. I was not a fan of wines, so I didn't want to bother pretending to drink it. If I were here to drink, I would drink what I liked.

"That seems on par with you, tough guys drink," She said with soft giggles.

"Yeah, sterotypical of sorts," I responded. She nodded.