Free When in Rome by Amabile Giusti

kind as to share that at eighteen, I was still desperately waiting for boobs—and envying thirteen-year-old Erika’s enormous rack. Luca listens politely, obviously holding back laughter, with one eyebrow raised and his hands stuffed in his pants pockets.
    “Um, Mom . . . I think you should give me back my keys.”
    “Oh, sure, sure, hold on. Here, my darling, now that I know you’re all right, I won’t have to worry anymore.”
    She insists that everything is fine, which I take to mean that as long as I’m with a guy that looks like Luca, she’ll sleep soundly at night.
    “Do you have anything going on this morning?” I ask, and it’s my way of telling her to get out of here. Somehow I’m holding back my tears—maybe because Luca doesn’t seem angry; instead, he seems to be enjoying all of this, as if it were a tennis match. His gaze bounces back and forth from me to my mother as he rests against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest.
    I finally manage to convince my mother to leave. I guide her with a little push on the small of her back, open the door, and find something right in front of my nose. Or rather, someone. It’s the girl with the polka-dot thong. The one with the lisp, who criticized my refrigerator. Or at least I think it is, because she’s actually wearing clothes this time, and I only recognize her eyes and her horse mouth. My mother stops, sensing my tension at seeing the tearful, pissed-off young lady standing there. She doesn’t budge; her sixth sense tells her that this girl isn’t selling something door to door.
    The girl looks behind us and zeroes in on Luca. He’s probably pretty annoyed; he always is when his one-night stands dare to demand something else from him. Sandra, enraged by three days with no response to her messages, enters the apartment, brushing us aside as if we were made of papier-mâché. My mother looks at me, shocked that I’m allowing this tramp to make a beeline for my man. I don’t even have time to grope for an explanation when Sandra bursts.
    “You thtupid bathtard! You fucked me for an hour thtraight the other night, and now you’re pretending not to know me? You owe me a little more conthideration! What do you think, that I’m thome kind of thtupid bitch?”
    Luca’s answer isn’t exactly cryptic. “Yes,” he says, not bothered in the least. “That about sums it up.”
    I’m worried that any minute now she’s going to pull a revolver out of her purse and hold it to his head. My mom, however, is ready to kick back, relax, order a bucket of popcorn, and enjoy the show. I drag her outside, lock the door behind us, and accompany her resolutely outside to the sidewalk. It’s frigid out here.
    “You shouldn’t leave him alone with that girl,” she says. “She had an incredible ass and her perfume smelled expensive.”
    “Don’t worry, Luca will handle her.”
    “That’s the problem.”
    “What?”
    “That young lady seemed intent on nabbing your suitor, and if you’re not careful, she’ll steal him right out from under your nose. I bet she’s good in bed, but I’m not as optimistic about you.”
    “Mom! You’re always thinking about the same thing.”
    “Sex is important. If you had more of it, you wouldn’t have all this acne under your chin, see?” She tips my head back as if I were a horse getting its teeth examined. “Erika has skin as soft as apricots,” she says loudly.
    “Oh, I’m sure she does!” I say, humiliated.
    “Let’s go back in and see what happens.”
    “I’m going back inside, Mom. You need to go!” Now I’m practically screaming, and a few passersby stare at me in horror.
    “I could help you.”
    “I don’t even want to know what kind of help you could give me, and I’m begging you to please just go home. I can take care of myself.”
    “You must bring Luca to the wedding—to show him to all of the aunts!” she says, as if he’s some kind of trophy.
    “I don’t even know if I’m