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Teresa put her hands into her lap and stared at her mother. “The people, the people, that’s all you care about. Frank rides a motorbike, and suddenly he's a vagabondo.”

“You will not see that boy again, Teresa. You hear?” Her mother, Maria washed the dishes, each one slamming into the old plastic rack with a sigh. “With all those drawings on his body and his earrings—.” She pretended to spit into the water. “What would people say?”

Her mother wiped her hands on a tea towel, twisting the old fabric between her fists.

“You never listen, not like your sister. After all the sacrifices I made for you, what do you do?” By now the towel was so tightly wound, her mother’s chubby fingers had turned white. "Whatever you want! Little Teresa doesn't care for anyone but herself.”

Teresa couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced such hostility from her

mother. They had a strained relationship at best, but now the woman stood over her,

trembling with anger. She buried her face in her hands, unable to meet her dark brown eyes.

“Perfect Louise,” she said. “We might be twins, but that doesn’t make us the same

person. Why can’t you respect me for who I am?” Her mother slung the towel across the edge of the sink. “Just get to know Frank,” Teresa continued, sensing her waver. “Don't judge someone before knowing them first.”

“I know what I see, Teresa. I know.” Turning her back on her daughter, she put the

lunch leftovers away.

Teresa briefly closed her eyes, drained by the discussion. Her hands worked through

her long, brown curls to ease the tension in her scalp. Each finger was adorned with rings: each wrist carried bangles and bracelets that jangled endlessly.

As the older woman bustled around the kitchen, she wondered how someone who was meant to love her could make her feel so small. Of course, Louise could do no wrong in their mother's eyes. It didn't matter that Teresa had graduated from university after qualifying as a primary school teacher, while Louise stayed home and did nothing most days. Instead of celebrating her wins, her mother questioned why Teresa hadn't become a lawyer or doctor. If a job and diploma didn't please her mother, what would?

She gasped at the time as she was meeting Frank in the Piazza for a coffee, the very reason the argument had begun in the first place. Thankfully, even the full wrath of her mother wasn't enough to stop her from doing what she wanted. Teresa was a twenty-two-year-old woman who made her own decisions. “I have to go,” she said, walking out of the kitchen. “I can’t keep Frank waiting,” she added with a smirk, skipping the last few steps as her mother slammed the door behind her.

Stepping into the light, warm breeze and glaring sunlight, she walked along the

narrow alleys of Palermo, high heels digging into rough, hilly ground. Her hand lifted, waving to the old women seated outside their homes knitting and talking amongst themselves. These women liked to gossip and judge—they had nothing better to do. Just like her mother, who always leapt to quick assumptions about others.

Before her appeared Louise, heading towards their house.

“Where are you coming from?” Teresa asked.

Her sister stopped walking. “Mama asked me to baby-sit Lucia’s grandkids while she

went to the market. Where are you going?”

“Meeting Frank for a coffee.”

Louise nodded. “Mama really doesn’t like him, does she?”

“No, but I’m too old to let her run my life.”

Louise rubbed her hands. “You need to have a heart-to-heart with Mama and be honest.” Teresa shrugged. “Anyway, I have to help make the lasagna dough for tomorrow.”

“Oh right, the anniversary party for Zia Anna and Zio Pietro.”

“Exactly.” Louise started walking up the hill, and Catarina wondered why she wore such heavy clothes despite the nice weather. Her thick black jumper was covered by a grey, oversized coat. The girl had curves but complained of being fat. It was as if she was trying to hide herself away.

***

 On Sunday morning, Teresa slept in, the clatter of pots and pans finally waking her.

Before she could open her eyes, someone was shaking her.

“For God’s sake Teresa, I’ve been trying to wake you for the past hour. Get

dressed and help me with the party.”

Rubbing her eyes, she stretched and faced her mother. “Sure, sure. I’m getting up

now.”

“Your sister’s been up for hours, helping. Have you no concern for us working so

hard?” She placed her arms across her chest, gazing.

Teresa sat up, blinking at her mother’s hovering figure. “I'm getting up; just give me

a minute and I'll be there.”

Once her mother had walked away in a huff, she rushed to the bathroom. Tears stung her eyes. She wondered why her mother hated her so much.

In the shower she scrubbed her body hard, then stepped out to face the mirror. Her

dark eyes stared bleakly back, her tanned complexion pallid, shoulders slumped, she shuffled

into the kitchen and set the table with Louise in the courtyard. They carried trays of homemade olives, sun-dried tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and pickled cucumbers, the

smell drawing bees from the thyme bushes close by.

Teresa loved the outdoor area, with its Mediterranean fountain, an array of

fernery around the tables, marble tiles and a white marquee covering the area. Palermo boasted its mild winters and warm summers; today, the wind was soft and the sky a gleaming blue.

She smiled at the idea she'd soon be on holidays for the summer. Teaching

eleven and twelve year olds at Scuola Media, or Middle School, was rewarding but

exhausting. Thankfully the school finished at one o’clock each afternoon, but she still

struggled to find time to think of innovative ways to teach, prepare the syllabus, and correct

homework. Of course, her mother saw her as a glorified babysitter, permanently on holiday.

Next came trays of lasagna, cannelloni and ravioli, which Teresa placed on the tables

before returning to wait for the guests. Her father, Gianni kissed her on the cheek while she sipped an espresso in the kitchen.

“You look beautiful Teresa, but then again—you are always beautiful.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

When all the guests arrived, Teresa heard the chatter about how sausages were

made in winter, the best way to bottle sauce, and how to spice pickled vegetables.

She turned to Zio Pietro, a towering man with dishevelled air. He grinned. “When are you getting married, carina? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Frank arrived in black skin-tight jeans and a cream open-necked shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal bronzed, muscular, biceps and a tattoo of a dragon.

Approaching Teresa, he kissed her on both cheeks as was customary in the Italian

culture. Despite not approving of Frank, she had kept silent when Teresa told her he'd been invited.

Zio Pietro glared, and when Frank extended his hand in greeting he was met with a grunt. Pietro turned back to Teresa. “You didn't answer my question, Teresa.”

Teresa’s her hands turned sweaty. She looked over at Frank who smiled but said nothing. “I don’t know, Zio Pietro. I’m still young.”

“Ah, but in my days, women got married at eighteen, and by nineteen, had their first

child. There was no time for boyfriends back then.” Again, he eyed Frank coolly. “They were terrific cooks and knew how to look after their husbands. Nowadays there is no care for the home or kitchen. It's a disgrace.”

Frank shrugged. “I adore Teresa with all my heart, Signore, and one day we'll get

married.” He smiled, kissed her on the cheek and put his arm around her.

“And I'd like to travel first, Zio,” Teresa added.

He stared as if she’d said a dirty word. “Aah, all these modern ambitions,” He shook his head. “I doubt your mother would let you travel, alone.” He glanced at Frank. “Or

with company.” He walked away with a sigh.

After washing up, Louise put on music. The guests danced the traditional tarantella in a circle around the courtyard.

Frank turned to Teresa. “Thanks for inviting me.” He stroked her cheek.

“That’s okay,” she replied, watching her family dance.

“Now how about a dance?”

“Sure.” She fell easily into Frank's arms, and they joined in a giant ring. Frank’s hand

stroked her back. his lips brushing the side of her throat.

As the music was nearing the end, her mother called looking irate. "Teresa, I need

you. Come inside now!"

She sighed and turned to Frank, who was frowning. “I'll be back. Keep dancing.”

Teresa walked to the kitchen and approached the bench. Her mother lifted the cover of the box containing the anniversary cake.

“Look at this!”

Teresa was curious. “What about it?”

She sighed. “I told you to order the continental cake, not the chocolate sponge! I

thought I made it clear.”

Teresa peered at the brown icing. “Sorry, Mum.”

“You stupid girl. How could you get the wrong one?” She tossed her hands in the air.

“I can't serve this.” Teresa felt sick. Why was she distracted all the time? What was wrong with her? Louise would have got the right cake because she isn’t self-absorbed. “You stay out until all hours of the night, and don't come to church. Of course you’ll make mistakes.” She waved her away. “Just go.”

She found Frank standing at the door, glaring. With hands on his hips, he approached her mother. “Why put Teresa down over a stupid cake?” He crossed his arms. “Who even cares what kind it is? It's just a damn cake. It's edible, isn't it?”

Her mother blushed. “Aah, I was right about you—here to make trouble!

You mind your own business and leave, now.”

“I’ll leave when you apologise to your daughter.”

“You have no right to speak to me like that,” her mother hissed. I deserve respect,

especially in my own house.”

Frank tugged at his earring. “I'll respect you when you have the decency to respect Teresa.”

Teresa ran to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She sat on her bed, trembling until she heard a knock on the door. Hesitantly, she rubbed her eyes and stood up to unlock it. Frank stood there, a concerned look etched across his face.

“Are you okay?” He stepped inside and took her hand, lifting it against his stubbled

cheek. “I’m sorry I got angry back there, but she had no right.”

Teresa pulled away and moved towards the window. Below, the locals strolled by,

looking carefree. She only wished she could feel the same.

Frank wrapped his arms around her from behind. She felt safe and loved, and

turned to face him. He gently kissed her.

She pulled away. “I'm thinking of going away for a while, once work finishes in the

next couple of weeks.”

Frank's jet-black hair hung over his strong features and dark eyes. He was rugged and

handsome; the small stud in his ear giving him a reckless air. “What?”

Teresa felt nauseous. “I need some— space. To get my head around things, and sort

stuff out.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments. “What are you saying?”

“That I—” She fought back her tears. “I can't be in a relationship right now.”

“What is really going on, Teresa?”

The tears fell. “I don't know, Frank. Perhaps I'm just more trouble than I'm

worth. I seem to always upset the people around me.” She turned away. “Once you've been

with me a while, I'll end up disappointing you too.”

Frank's eyes shone. “That's ridiculous. I love you.”

“And I love you too, which is why I need to do this. I have to find out who I am, and I

can't do it like this. I'm sorry."

Frank hovered above her. “This shouldn't be about the damn cake— I was only

defending you.”

Teresa looked to the ground. “I'm sorry.”

“You need to stand up to your mother. Don’t let her come between us.”

“My mother will never accept you, so how can I choose between you and her?”

Frank's eyes turned dark, and he grabbed her by the shoulders. “You're making a

mistake, and you don't even know it.” She was pressed against the wall as he kissed her roughly, trying to make some kind of point. He broke away. “I’ll give you the time you need, but you need to believe in yourself. Don’t let your mother put you down.” She shrugged.

“I’m happy to wait, but not forever.”

As Frank headed out, Catarina felt numb. He was her first love, and now she might have lost him forever.

***

Teresa strolled into Corleonese for a café latte in the local café. She twisted her hands as she met with her friend, Toni. Her friend’s silky blouse and leather skirt showed off her buxom curves, and her emerald-green eyes narrowed in concern.

“Tell me what happened, Teresa. I'm all ears.”

Teresa explained. “I broke up with Frank because I’m confused.”

Toni frowned, dimples highlighted. “Why let your mother affect your relationship? Talk to her.”

“What’s the point? She never hears me. I’d get a better response from a leaping frog than her.”

“Oh, girl, I’m sorry.” She curled a brow. “But things between you and Frank shouldn’t take a back seat when you love each other. Hasn’t he been supportive?”

“He has, but I can’t be with him when I feel like I’m not good enough for him.” Images flashed through her mind: her mother barging in on a party when she was eighteen, raging eyes and sharp words grating in her ear, telling her she was too irresponsible to be trusted at a party, or the time her mother called her ‘a stupid good for nothing person’ in front of her aunt and uncle when she’d used a different recipe for a minestrone soup.

Toni wrapped her arms around her. “I want you to make a vow.” Teresa knit her brows. “That you’ll have an honest talk with your mother. Tomorrow, okay.” Toni huffed. “She can’t keep putting you down and should respect you.”

Teresa sighed. “After my trip, Toni. I need to clear my head first.”

“This calls for a night out to chill.”

“Where?”

Toni’s eyes dilated. “We’re going to a nightclub.”

***

Teresa and Toni drove to a nightclub in Messina later that night, the same one she’d attended with Frank. The dark, smoky room belted out wild Italian rhythms, her spirits lifted.

Teresa squeezed through the crowd and danced with her friend. They later grabbed a glass of wine and sat at the bar. Men asked her to dance but she declined.

When a tall, lanky man approached Toni, her friend hesitantly accepted a dance after a nudge from Teresa.

“Go on. I'll be fine.” She watched her leave with a reassuring smile and took a few

more sips of her drink. Her heart pounded. Frank was talking intimately with a young woman across the room. When their eyes met, he flinched.

Teresa’s throat tightened as if she’d never speak again. It hadn't taken Frank long to

move on to someone else. How dare he! Facing the bar, someone brushed her shoulder. She looked up to see Frank standing cross-armed beside her.

“I guess you forgot about me in a hurry, didn't you?”

He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

Teresa stared. “That girl you were with.”

“Hey, you're the one who broke up with me, didn't you?”

“I guess that gives you the right to go screw someone else a week later.” She

picked up her glass and touched the rim. “Please, go. I'm sorry to have stopped you

from having your fun, Frank.”

Frank was silent for a moment, darkness looming in his eyes. “You know what, Teresa? You have no right to tell me what to do. No right. You're the one who stabbed me in the heart the moment you said you couldn’t love me.” He sighed. “Obviously, your love was

not as strong as mine, but I'll have to get over that.”

“I never stopped loving you, Frank, and I probably never will.”

He took her hand. “Then why can't we make this work? I've never felt this way about

anyone before.”

Teresa shook her head. “I'm sorry, Frank. I can't commit to anything right now.”

Frank dropped her hand and stalked back towards his lady friend. The woman’s hands were on both hips until he grabbed her around the waist and kissed her passionately.

Teresa gasped. She felt like he'd just cut her with a knife. How could he do that, just to spite her? Clearly, he was moving on, and she’d be a fool not to do so as well. He wasn’t mature enough to understand what she was going through.

Toni returned with her new friend but Teresa pretended she was fine. The man turned to order drinks and Teresa spoke to Toni about seeing Frank.

“I really don't get why you broke up in the first place. Help me understand.”

Teresa fixated on her. “I’m sick of hurting others. He deserves someone better. I'll only drag him down to my level.”

Toni gave her a playful shove. “That's ridiculous. You’re perfect for each other.

Stop making yourself miserable and get back with him.”

“I can't. It would never work out.”

“Oh Cat, stop letting your mum rule your life.”

Toni's friend gave her a drink and they danced once more. Teresa’s heart ached, but she’d made her decision about Frank. She wasn't ready to commit.

***

The next morning, Teresa prodded her mother to the kitchen chair. “We need to talk, Mum.” Teresa put her hands into her lap and stared at her mother.