Our days
"Mamma, I'm leaving..." I shout cheerfully before reaching the base of the stairs and freeze in the middle of my way when seeing my dad with his right hand deeply shoved under my mom's skirt, kissing the soul out of her.
She's laying on her back on the kitchen island while my dad's head lowers to her nipples, biting them through the fabric of the silky dress, while she drops the slotting spoon on the floor and moans keenly.
"Oh God, Mamma! Dad!" I yell in horror and turn my back on them. I hear them shuffling around, most probably straightening themselves up.
It's unbelievable how my parents still can't keep their hands off each other! Don't get me wrong. Deep down I do like how them being still madly, insanely in love, absolutely head over heels for each other.
I've always wished for a love story like theirs. In my eyes, they are the ideal couple but as a child of such a beautiful couple, there is nothing more embarrassing than running into your parents engaged with each other.
And my parents do that. A lot. Like... all the freaking time.
I don't think I remember a single moment my father has not been smitten around my mother, always absorbed by her presence, always at a maximum of half of a meter away from her as if she is the air he needs to breathe and live.
"Eve, so sorry sweetheart," mom says scolding dad with her eyes while dad squeezes a good chunk of her butt. "Come on in and have breakfast with us before you go, love," she continues, placing plates of breakfast on the dining table while my dad brings the omelet and pancakes. I take a seat next to dad.
"What were you saying, pumpkins?" my dad asks, hugging me sideways, planting a kiss on my temple before he sits for breakfast. "I hope you've kept your evening free, Eve. Enzo is coming for dinner," he continues without waiting for my reply.
"Sure, I'll be home for dinner but most probably I'll be out the entire day," I tell him.
Today I'm on a long schedule of classes at school. They are the hardest and on such days I'm having second thoughts about this university.
"Don't forget to pick Enzo up from the airport, Eve," mamma says.
"What?! Why me?" I ask, irritated.
"Because mom and I will be shopping and then preparing dinner and if we want it to be ready on time, someone else must pick up Enzo. And that someone else is you, Eve," dad clarifies, gallantly grabbing my hand and kissing it.
I adore my father, always fascinating in his appearance and noble in his behavior.
He used to be my standard of prince charming when I was a kid. Now he's my hero, my rock to lean against, and my pattern of a husband.
We have always had a special bond, something that only we can feel, although I've had my fair share of being a brat during my teenage years.
Sometimes I still am.
"But dad, I met uncle Enzo like forever ago... ten years to be exact. We are practically strangers. Why don't you send Mike, pleaseee?" I whine, trying to find an excuse and also give him a solution to my refusal.
They say that when you don't want to do something or you don't want something to happen, come back with a solution and you have a fifty percent chance that things go your way.
Not with dad.
"What? Nonsense, you are his favorite niece," he says while I roll my eyes.
"I'm his only niece, dad... not even his real niece...," I scoff. "Oh, and I have to run," I rush to say, looking at the time and fetching an apple from the table, running towards the entrance door.
"Which time should I be at the airport?" I ask just in case I'll change my mind, turning around toward my parents just to see my mom already straddled over my dad's lap, swallowing his kisses.
"Jesus! You two are impossible..." I mumble and take my leave while my father tries to speak.
"Four sharp be at the airport!" he muffles between mom's kisses peppered on his lips and his own excitement.
And I leave, rolling my eyes again but smiling about my parents' thirst for each other, confirming to him that I'll be at the airport, just like he wants.
Well, that didn't take long! Changing my mind, I mean.
Oh, my name is Eveline Tate. I'm the daughter of Lucas and Rebecca Tate, the best parents I could ever wish for.
I'm almost twenty and in my first year of college. I decided to go to a college here, in NY, where I always felt most comfortable and close to my parents.
Even though sometimes I behave like a brat, I love my parents and I know they wish nothing but to have me close.
My father, on another hand, believed I would also like to have a place of my own, so he got me a penthouse in the city, closer to my uni, but on weekends I would still spend most of my time with them, at the mansion.
I have always loved being around my parents. They are madly in love with each other as if they have met yesterday and I'm sure they'll be like that until their last breath.
One could say they breathed for each other.
They always have had that special bond and my dad keeps saying until today that he'll live all of his life earning mom's forgiveness for the four years he has been away, whatever that means.
There's nothing my mom wishes for, and my dad doesn't turn the world upside down to get it. Whatever it is.
And most of the time it's a lava cake.
Yup, my mother is crazy about lava cakes and if that means for my dad to cross the city at night just to bring her one, well, he'll just throw a jacket over his pj's and drive himself to bring it.
Of course, he can send the driver, but nobody, and I mean nobody, is to make my dad's woman a queen, but himself.
That's how my dad is when it comes to mom, a brute with a puppy heart, as she likes to say.
As a dad, well, this is another story. I don't think I could ever wish for a better dad, although his suffocating love isn't always my thing.
My mom is the queen, and I'm the princess. And like any princess, she has everything she desires as long as she stays in her golden cage.
Thank God for my mom who would always take my side, forcing dad to give up on his overprotective fatherhood and ask Mike to do the jobs, the dirty jobs like scaring a guy away if he is too adamant to know me or beat one up who doesn't get no for an answer.
There has never been any doubt for mom and me that uncle Mike is a better guy for the task than my dad, at least he stays hidden while watching me and comes out only when it's strictly necessary.
Thankfully, that gave me the chance to some sort of dates when I was in high school.
Other than that, whatever I ask, my dad will bring. Absolutely anything. That's why sometimes I'm a little brat.
"Hey, babe," Jason says, opening the driver's door for me to get down and he captures my lips in a kiss.
He's always waiting for me in the parking lot of the university when we both have classes in the morning.
"Hey, Jas," I reply and return his kiss with a quick hug.
"You're early. Want some coffee before classes?" he asks, taking my backpack to carry, throwing it on his shoulder, and wrapping his left arm around me.
"Sure, why not? We still have almost an hour till classes," I say while we both enter the college coffee shop.
"Aw, my sweetie!" Pepa shouts while running toward me just as I enter the doors, curling her arms around my neck and pressing a painful kiss on my cheek, making me wrinkle up my nose. "I missed you, Eve," she says, and I do believe her.
Pepa is my best friend ever since elementary school, and we've grown up to be rather sisters than friends. She has her own apartment in NY, but she sleeps mostly at my place lately.
There has never been any doubt that we'll go to the same college and since my apartment is closer to our uni, she literally has become my roommate. I don't mind that at all.
"Come on, Pep. It was just a weekend," I scold her as a joke.
She knows my weekends are home with my family, but she keeps complaining about it.
"I know. And I can relate to that. But... look, you are coming with us tonight. And that's because we've had to go out on Friday without you," she continues while taking back her seat, so Jason and I can join her at the table in the booth.
"I can't, Pep. I have to pick up my uncle from the airport and then stay at the mansion for dinner. Mamma seems dead serious about it," I tell her, and she rolls her eyes.
"Come on, Eve. You haven't seen this uncle of yours for what, like ten years? What's the big fuss with his coming?! I bet he doesn't even know what you look like anymore," Jason says and turns his face to me, hugging me sideways, kissing my neck in the way he knows will make me bend.
But not today. I can't. Uncle Enzo practically has been literally living with us. Although his home is thousands of miles away, on another continent, we have always been very close with video calls as everyday communication, and he's the closest figure to an uncle I've ever known.
Although I remember when sometimes, as a teenager, I used to get jealous remembering those catwalk beautiful Italian women uncle Enzo dated during my vacation in Napoli.
Oh, and there is also uncle Mike but he is more of a father figure, and behavior, I remember, especially when someone is picking on the little princess of the family.
Oh Lord, I'm rotten spoiled.
Neither uncle Enzo, nor uncle Mike are actually my uncles, like... we're not blood-related, but they have been close to dad like brothers ever since I've acknowledged their existence in our lives.
I remember we visited uncle Enzo in Napoli when I was about ten years old. It has been the best time I've ever had on a vacation.
We stayed for about a month and the last two weeks were my delight because uncle Enzo used to take me to his restaurant and I loved helping the chefs in the kitchen.
He had one in each big city of Italy and his estate was in Catania, but after aunt Feli got married, he moved out from Sicily estate and bought one in Napoli, where he insisted we should accommodate for our entire stay.
I used to stay in the restaurant's kitchen till late at night when uncle Enzo would send his friend Alex to bring me home and smuggle me through the back door so mom and dad wouldn't know how late I was.
I loved Italian cuisine and I loved watching the chefs handling their kitchens.
It was the most famous restaurant in Napoli, so I had learned from the best to cook pasta and pizza but my favorite, well, it was still chocolate.
Uncle Enzo, Alex, and I made the best team back then. They made me practice until I mastered Pizza Calzone, Spaghetti Alla Puttanesca, and Tiramisu.
Nowadays, I'm the chef in the house when it comes to Italian cooking.
After that vacation and, later on, becoming a rebel teenager, I drew myself far from him and left that great attachment for mom and dad.
I believe there are years since I've spoken with uncle Enzo last. Most probably, he wouldn't even recognize me now.
My curly black hair, inherited from my father, is now shorter and I'm wearing it loose mostly, letting its perfect rings bounce freely around my face. I'm much thinner now, with a well-shaped butt and some round, heavy breasts.
That is from my grandma, mom would say. If you ever saw grandpa Marce staring at grandma Genny with his eyes, you would definitely know what mom was talking about.
One thing that can help uncle Enzo recognize me, though, is the pair of green eyes that I have from my mom. They are a copy/paste and that makes me unmistakably her daughter.
"Sorry, Jas. I really can't miss this. But you go, you'll have fun," I tell him and lean in front for a kiss, which he deepens shamelessly, grabbing my head with his hands and holding it still while he's ravishing my lips.
"Oh, get a room!" Pepa says pouting.
"I'm going to miss you, baby," he whispers after breaking the kiss.
"You could come, you know. For dinner, I mean," I reply, trying for maybe the nth time to convince Jason to come to our place for dinner with mom and dad.
But his first meeting with my dad has not been exactly a success, as dad overwhelmed Jason with his usual dominance because he always had to be the alpha in the room.
I don't blame Jason for being so reluctant to meet dad again, but it has been almost a year since the event. And Jason keeps refusing and most of the time he shows annoyance to the matter.
So, I stopped asking him but still got bothered about Jason's attitude. My dad is my king, my husband material standard, no matter what Jason says.
"You know that your dad and I can't share the same space, baby," he says in a sweet voice, still peppering kisses on my neck.
*****
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