The smell of Italian bread, cooked pasta and red sauces filled with herbs filled the room. Odelle sat quietly in the corner of her favorite Italian eatery, Mosconi's. She had her hand wrapped around a hot cup of espresso and a plate of giant meat balls and bread fresh bread in front of her, only slightly peeking past the book in front of her nose. She enjoyed spending her evenings here, only because it reminded her of home. The food was home made. The coffee was fresh. The people who owned it were from the same city she was born in. She made friends with them her freshman year at the college.
"Volete portare a casa qualcosa, Odelle?"("Would you like to take something home, Odelle?" ) The owner of Mosconi's, Dante Mosconi, asked her, motioning to her plate. Odelle had barely touched it in the ten minutes that it was sitting in front of her. She looked up at the old, graying and neatly dressed man who had a smile on his face when she locked eyes with him. "No grazie. Ci dispiace, mi sono preso nel mio libro."( "No thanks. Sorry, I got caught in my book." ) Odelle set her book aside and picked up her fork and sank it into the giant red meatball that sat on her plate. The juice from inside of it reminded her of a spray of hot water exploding onto the surface of the earth as the pressure built. She took a bite and smiled as the flavors took her mind back to her home country. She looked at Mr. Mosconi and nodded at him. Mr. Mosconi nodded back to her and turned and went back to the kitchen. As the door opened, the sound of his wife's voice, who made all the food, came thundering out of the kitchen as she belted out loud Italian home songs. Odelle laughed to herself as she began humming along to the song. She took another fork full and tossed it onto the bread and crunched down on it. The atmosphere in the restaurant made her happy. The only place she ever felt happy for the last three years.
Life outside the Italian eatery was total hell for her. She kept finding ignorant people who took her for granted. When she thought she had made a friend, she was never surprised when they turned around and made her the butt of their jokes and she rebelled against them and told them her every thought about them. She never held back on her insults. The endless and countless line of idiots and bigots and shrewd people in her life eventually turned her into a person that pretty much hates all humans, except the lovely couple in the kitchen.
She found release in reading countless novels that she kept on a shelf that wrapped the entire perimeter of her dorm room. She had the shelf put up the first day of her sophomore year after she had spent a whole day loading books off shelves in a book store that was closing. She had gotten five dozen Italian books, fifty novels in English and a few others in French. (French was her third language. She was majoring in Foreign Languages.) By the time she had put up her new books, they had already filled an entire wall. Whenever people came into her dorm, they'd step back in awe as they looked at her library. When they asked if they could borrow a book, she'd be cheeky and hand them a book that was in Italian and watch as their faces would slump as they saw the language it was written in. It was a small yet cruel joke she'd always play. She never let anyone borrow any of her books. They were her personal stash of gold, in a way.
Odelle took the final bite of the meatball and pasta and put her book away in her bag. She laid her money on the table and called out to the old couple. "Grazie ancora!" ( "Thank you again!" ) Mr. Mosconi stepped out of the kitchen and waved at Odelle with a smile on his face. "See you next time, Ms.Odelle!" he said in his thick Italian accent.
Back at the college Odelle wandered the campus, looking for a bench in the shade to sit on so that she could finish reading her novel. It was warm, so it wasn't ideal to go back to her room just yet. The window unit in her room drove her crazy if she had to sit in the room and attempt to read. The only way she could was if she read with music playing, which often gave her headaches. She finally found a bench and parked her Beachcomber bike next to it. As she sat down, she looked around her and looked at the other students. Most of them were zoned in on their cell phones, ignoring their surroundings. They're probably posting what they ate for lunch to their Instagrams and Snapping their friends. Odelle scoffed and shook her head. She had a phone, but only used it to do her homework for her language classes.
Across the campus she heard a girl yell out something about getting knocked up. Odelle rolled her eyes and opened her book and began to read. She soon found herself being transported into 19th century Italy. The Venician Ball, the biggest party of the year for Venice. Women and men in their finest gowns and suits and masks graced the plaza of the Grand City.
Empty world around her. Her mind racing with words and her home. Odelle only existed.
OOC: I apologize for my extremely lengthy post. I get carried away sometimes. It was like 2am when I started writing.
100
200
100
