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worked in the restaurant and discussed taking over the business after high school, which is what our parents wanted. Instead I chose to go to NYU while my sister stayed home to continue working at the restaurant. She’d been there ever since, and I’d stayed in Manhattan.
    As we pull up in front of their house, I can’t help but smile at the setting. It is the perfect starter home: a small, two-story brick house with a two-door garage and pool, ideal for a budding family. Tony opens the front door and I’m immediately greeted by the delicious smell of my sister’s cooking. Tony takes my coat and I make my way to the kitchen to see Gabriella, my mother, and my father working vigorously, preparing what is supposed to be a quick lunch that now resembles a four-course meal. Being Italian, our family meals are rarely quick. Every occasion involves a meal: celebrations, announcements, fights, and serious discussions. I have had some of my deepest conversations while simultaneously stuffing my face.
    My father is a short man, with a little beer belly, a pointy nose, a graying mustache, and a balding head. My mother is tiny and round, with short brown hair and a round, expressive face. My gorgeous sister has my mother’s face, long brown hair, and eyes like mine. Gabriella has a curvier body—she has larger breasts and a shapely butt, while I have a thinner frame.
    My mother turns toward the entrance of the kitchen and sees me, giving me one of her warm smiles. She wipes her hands on her apron and walks over to me with open arms. In her faint Italian accent she calls me by my full name, Lucia Pia, and hugs me close to her body, her head resting on my shoulder. I look past my mother and see my father looking at me with sad eyes. Confused, I open my mouth to ask why, when out of the corner of my eye I see Tony embrace Gabriella, caressing her stomach. I suddenly feel dizzy, knowing now why my sister asked us to come over for lunch. I let go of my mother and walk to my father, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He hums his hello to me and turns back to the stove to finish making lunch. I see a bottle of my parents’ wine on the table and pour myself a glass, knowing I will need it to make it through this particular meal. I ask if anyone else would like a glass and Gabriella declines, a sly grin on her face.
    By the time lunch is ready, I’ve been talking about Autumn’s romantic involvement for quite a while. My parents are listening intently, while Tony and Gabriella look on quietly, warm smiles on their faces. We are sitting at the kitchen table, my father and Tony at the head with my mother sitting across from Gabriella and I. While we continue talking, my sister gets up and prepares everyone’s first dish with spaghetti and meatballs. As she hands me my plate, I sigh with frustration and give my father my meatballs.
    “What’s wrong with my meatballs?” Gabriella asks me while rolling her eyes.
    With an exasperated tone I answer her, “You know I don’t eat meat.”
    She turns to Tony and gives him a look, “Oh, right. You’re still doing that?”
    I narrow my eyes at her and grab the bottle of wine, pouring more into my glass. “Gabby, you sure you don’t want a glass? Dad made it so well; it’s delicious.” She gives me a look of annoyance. I continue playing dumb, deciding to up the ante a little bit. “I just think it’s odd that you don’t want a glass, since you’re usually the first one to open the bottle. Why would that be? Do you have anything to tell us?”
    Tony chokes on a mouthful of spaghetti, and my mother leaps up to pat his back. My brother-in-law, now red-faced, looks up at my sister with nervous eyes. She winks at him, stands up, and looks at my parents. “Daddy, Mommy, Lucia is right. I do have to tell you something.” She looks at Tony and grabs his hand. “
We
have to tell you something.” I can see my mother’s mouth hanging open with anticipation. After a dramatic pause, Gabriella