Free The Queen of Minor Disasters by Antonietta Mariottini

take a cup of soy sauce for dipping.
    Back at the table, Gina
patiently waits for everyone to sit. Her plate is full of greens dressed in
raspberry vinaigrette, grilled vegetables, and one thin slice of prime rib.
She’s been off dairy for a month now, saying it’s better for the skin, and, I
have to admit, she is glowing. Maybe I’ll try to give up dairy. I don’t eat too
much of it anyway. Except for my morning cappuccino. And the occasional gelato.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’d rather have raging acne than give up cheese.
    “Champagne?” the waiter behind
us asks.
    We both look at each other and
smile. “Yes please,” I say.
    The waiter proceeds around the
table and once everyone is served, my father stands to make a toast. “To my
family,” he says raising his glass. “May we always love and respect one
another, no matter what the future brings.”
    We clink glasses but I can’t
help feeling this toast is ominous.
     I look at my mother, who
nervously picks at some French toast, then at my father, who is working his way
through king crab legs.
    Something’s up.
    My second round at the buffet
is for dessert, and I proceed to the flambé table for my Bananas Foster. The
chef sautés the bananas and then adds the shot of brandy, making a large red
flame in the pan. My stomach turns as I watch it burn.
    Somehow, I can’t shake the
feeling that my life is quickly going up in flames. I mean, I am twenty-seven,
with no career path, and worse, no boyfriend.
     As soon as I take my seat, my
dad stands up again, and clinks his fork on his wine glass. Pietro and Gina
kiss, as if practicing for their wedding.
    Honestly, sometimes they’re too much.
    “Your mother and I have an
announcement to make,” Dad says.
    My heart begins to pound.
    I knew it. Something’s wrong.
    Instantly my mind reels and I
start thinking of the worst-case scenarios.
    I can imagine it already.
They’re getting a divorce. After thirty-nine years of marriage my father’s
taken a girlfriend, and he’s about to break the news. Of course, my mother will
play it cool and act like she’s okay, but later on tonight, I’ll have to feed her
chocolate cake and vodka while she cries. Come to think of it, that’s not
really likely.
    Oh God. My dad is sick. He’s
probably got some incurable illness that can’t even be treated. I’ll have to
drop out of school to care for him. Wait, I graduated college five years ago.
    Has it really been five years?
It seems like just yesterday I was walking down the steps of Keating Hall
surrounded by my closest friends. I really need to figure out my life. What
have I been doing for the past five years?  I mean, look at Julie. She’s built
a career while I’ve been wasting the time away, slinging spaghetti and
meatballs…
    The sound of my dad clearing
his throat knocks me back into the moment.
    I close my eyes. Here it
comes.
    “We want to thank our
wonderful children for all the hard work that you’ve done over the years at La
Cucina and now, at Lorenzo’s,” my dad begins.
     He stops to look at each and
every one of us with a smile.
    Tears are welling up in his
eyes.
    Oh God. I knew something was wrong. I knew it. I’ve always had a sixth sense
about these sorts of things…
     “Your mother and I appreciate
all the years of sacrifice that you’ve put into the business. When we first
opened La Cucina, your mother was scared that it would tear the family apart.
Instead, we’ve both been impressed at how it’s made all of us stronger.”
    My mother smiles and squeezes
my father’s hand.  They lock eyes and she nods for him to go on. “But your
mother and I are tired. We want to enjoy our old age.”
    “And grandchildren!” my mom
pipes in, winking at Pietro and Gina.
    “So that is why we’ve decided
to sell La Cucina,” my dad says with a sigh. “We wanted you all to be the first
to know.”
    My father keeps talking but
I’m not listening.
    He can’t be serious.
     My brothers and I