Two Worlds

This was the scene in New York's Little Italy at Tony and Francesca's first official date. © Photo courtesy of Di Costanzo and Gerenini

Get the truth about one of Italy’s most popular islands – and its people – by reading my new weekly blog installments (every Monday right here on this site)

Chapter Eighteen – Primo Appuntamento (First Date)

The day after Thanksgiving, my sister and I brought Addy and the boys to New York. We would spend the morning together in midtown. In the afternoon, Addy, Roberto, and my sister would go one way in Chinatown, and Tony and I would have our first official date at Caffe Napoli in Little Italy. Granted, Little Italy in New York is not as authentic as it once was. I warned Tony of this. Still, he wanted to see the New York version of his homeland and talk one-on-one with me. He said being together – alone – was more important than where we were anyway.

Much to my surprise, when we sat down for the date, after ordering, Tony gently picked up my hand from across the table. He looked me right in the eye with those green saucers of his and launched into a serious conversation, which was something I had never seen from this jokester. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t taken aback. Taking a deep breath to start, he said he wanted nothing more than to be in a committed, monogamous relationship with me. He noted that it would be hard because my life was in the United States and his was in Ischia, but that he already felt an extraordinary bond and attachment with me that built up over the months we communicated online and on the phone since we first met. For him, things had only intensified since we’d been together for the last week in the States. And he said the love that was growing between us would help us find a way to make the long-distance relationship work.

I expressed my growing feelings for him, but also mentioned how scared I was at the prospect of this crazy cross-continent romance. I added that even if we stopped dead in our tracks now – after just one kiss – I would be heartbroken. Also, I realized (and told him, which I probably should not have done) that no one – not even one of the guys in college who supposedly crushed on me or vice versa – ever paid me this much attention or doted on me quite as much as he did.

Tony agreed that he’d be devastated if we tried to go back to being friends. So, we decided we were going to give this a shot. He squeezed my hand and then fed me some gnocchi, which we both devoured with glee. When we left the restaurant, Tony, who was rather reserved in public, insisted on sealing our deal with another kiss. This one was far more innocent and sweet than the first. He held my hand and we headed for home, where we’d meet up with everyone else.

When we walked in the door of my house that night, we entered hand in hand, as a couple, for the firs time. The butterflies were zooming in my stomach. But I wasn’t sure if it was from my hopeless adoration of Tony and this growing love we spoke of or the thought of losing my American dream – and my family – to be with this native Italian charmer.

Some names and identifying characteristics of the real people involved have been changed.

Tune into this Web site, Two Worlds, every Monday for the latest installment in my blog about my experiences in Ischia, and every other Monday to ItaliansRus.com for the latest Our Paesani column about all things Italian. Di Meglio is also the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

This was the turkey when Roberto and Tony celebrated their first Thanksgiving - and got compared to turkeys themselves. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Get the truth about one of Italy’s most popular islands – and its people – by reading my new weekly blog installments (every Monday right here on this site)

Chapter Seventeen – “Italian Men Are Turkeys”

The next day was Thanksgiving, and we were all heading to Long Island. My grandfather and Roberto’s late grandfather were brothers. And we’d be celebrating the most American of holidays with my grandfather, his children (my mom’s brothers and their wives), and grandchildren (my cousins). Some of them would be meeting Roberto for the first time; all of them would be meeting Tony – who had locked lips with me the day before – for the first time. As everyone was getting ready to leave, Tony came into my room for another kiss. He held my hand as we sat on the floor and took in the Thanksgiving Day parade, which was also new to Tony.

As Snoopy floated past Macy’s Herald Square, Tony squeezed my hand and said, “I think I’m going to like Thanksgiving.” Indeed, he did. Roberto and he devoured antipasto, marinated vegetables, lasagna, sausage and peppers, stuffing, salad, and of course turkey. Their Italian palette failed to appreciate sweet potatoes or cranberry sauce, but they were keen on meat and gravy.

We took photos of all us cousins with Roberto and Tony as we introduced them to the American foods on my uncle’s harvest table. There was a lot of laughter. Addy, my sister’s all-American friend, who was joining us was getting some attention from the young men in the room. But Roberto still seemed to have eyes for her. He rarely left her side during the festivities, even though he did play a round of cards with my grandfather (his great uncle), and smoked some cigars with the others in the backyard.

Carrying a shot of grappa in his hand, he returned inside to Addy. He was whispering something in her ear, which made me nervous. After all, Roberto had a steady girlfriend, Lisa, back in Ischia. Sure, they had a fight, but they were not broken up. And this seemed like a bomb waiting to go off on his relationship. It got me wondering what Tony would do, if we were to pursue this kiss into full-fledged coupledom. We couldn’t possibly be together all the time; my life was in the United States and his was in Italy, so would I be able to trust him? Roberto was a stand-up guy, who I never thought of as being a two-timer. Were the stereotypes about Italian men true? Do they all cheat?

Moments later, my sister pulled me aside and told me that Roberto tried to kiss Addy last night. Addy, knowing all about his girlfriend, pulled back and sent him to his room to go to bed. She did the same in the living room’s pullout couch. Still, he was trying to convince her to finish that kiss. When my sister questioned Roberto, he said that he and Lisa had flirted with other people before, and that since she was back in Italy she would never find out. They were young, and their relationship was still experimental. They hadn’t really committed yet. In other words, he added, no one was getting married just yet. My sister and I both felt disappointment in our cousin – and men everywhere. “Italian men are obviously turkeys,” my sister said to me. “Obviously turkeys.” I glanced at Tony and wondered if she was right.

My faith in Italian men lifted a bit later in the day when Tony brought me a slice of the apple pie he watched me make from scratch the night before. Even though he hates cinnamon, he brought a big slice for himself, too. That’s when I taught him the wonders of a la mode, and he squeezed my hand under the table (so my cousins, who were sitting next to me, wouldn’t see us) and said, “You did an amazing job. I don’t like cinnamon, but I love your apple pie.”

Some names and identifying characteristics of the real people involved have been changed.

Tune into this Web site, Two Worlds, every Monday for the latest installment in my blog about my experiences in Ischia, and every other Monday to ItaliansRus.com for the latest Our Paesani column about all things Italian. Di Meglio is also the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

After my trip to Ischia in 2004, the Statue of Liberty waved me back home, but one kiss might change all that. © Photo courtesy of Di Costanzo and Gerenini

Get the truth about one of Italy’s most popular islands – and its people – by reading my new weekly blog installments (every Monday right here on this site)

Chapter Sixteen – Already, a Complicated Life

My question for Tony was simple and direct. “Are you sure this is a good idea because I’m from the United States and you’re from Italy?” His answer was the same, “Don’t worry. Keep kissing me. We’ll find a way to make it all work.” We kissed for another moment and then I returned to my office to work. He smiled for the rest of the day, but the kiss had me trembling both for its passion and the complications it would undoubtedly bring to my life.

While I wanted to believe Tony and focus on the glory of this blossoming love story, I couldn’t help but hear my gut churning. After all, months earlier a trip to Ischia’s hospital with that dang knee injury that was still plaguing me had me wishing I had never seen the place. Now, I was going to get embroiled in a romance with one of its natives? Aaaaah, but he was so cute and charming, and he seemed to genuinely like me, which was my favorite characteristic in a man back then. He did travel all the way from Italy to see me. And did I mention how cute and charming he was?

In the meantime, Roberto and my mom returned from the grocery store just in time for the boys to start preparing lunch and for my parents to head to the airport to pick up my sister Rosaria and her friend Addy. The phone rang and when I answered, there was a familiar Italian voice on the other end. It was Lisa. She was not at all happy. Roberto had not been in touch since he arrived in the States, and she wanted to know what he was doing – and with whom. I quickly had him pick up the phone. Although Tony and I couldn’t hear what was happening on the other end of the line, Roberto’s face told the story of a boyfriend in trouble with his love. If he had been back in Ischia, he’d be sleeping outside with his dog Diego (named for soccer player Maradona, of course) tonight. For much of the afternoon, he looked as if Diego had died.

Singing while cooking (still with a genuine smile stretched across his handsome face), Tony insisted that American salt had no taste and kept adding it to the pot of boiling water, ready to dump the pasta into the pot. As I finished up my work ahead of the Thanksgiving holiday, I was distracted by the kiss and thoughts of being forced to live in Ischia, an island without even an MRI machine, where my kids would lack opportunities, and the people work only six months per year, a place where people really believe that a glass of ice water on a hot day will kill you. At least, I had family like Roberto there. And I made a few friends on my recent trips. Truly, I earned a college degree in the States and vowed to stay in the New York metropolitan area because it was where I belonged and where my real family – replete with parents, siblings, and cousins – either lived or often gathered. We left Ischia with good reason; Ischia made us poor, and America made us rich in more ways than just in our wallets. And I sang to myself, too: “God bless America, land that I love…”

A little while later, Rosaria and Addy, who met my sister while the two studied abroad in Italy last summer, walked into the house. After brief introductions, we sat down to eat. Suddenly, the sullen Roberto, who had just argued with his Italian girlfriend Lisa, was coming back to life. He pushed my sister aside to sit between her and all-American Addy. A dancer, Addy was long and lean and had the face of a supermodel. Blond and blue-eyed, she was the epitome of what Italian boys thought of when they dreamed of American girls. Certainly, Roberto had forgotten his earlier tiff, but I think he also had forgotten Lisa’s name…

Some names and identifying characteristics of the real people involved have been changed.

Tune into this Web site, Two Worlds, every Monday for the latest installment in my blog about my experiences in Ischia, and every other Monday to ItaliansRus.com for the latest Our Paesani column about all things Italian. Di Meglio is also the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

Roberto and Tony find excitement in America. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Get the truth about one of Italy’s most popular islands – and its people – by reading my new weekly blog installments (every Monday right here on this site)

Chapter Fifteen – Primo Bacio (The First Kiss)

I’m a planner. So, in the weeks leading up to Roberto and Tony’s arrival in the United States, I planned the vacation of a lifetime for them. We would see all the major sites in New York City, and travel to Washington, D.C., where I graduated from college and my sister was currently studying, and Disney World in Orlando, Fla., where my brother was working. In between, we would celebrate Thanksgiving with Roberto and my American relatives.

The first day of their journey featured a low-key Italian-American Sunday lunch at home and an evening stroll at the Bronx Zoo, which was beautifully dressed in twinkling lights to show off the animals’ homes and celebrate the start of the holiday season. Before we left for the zoo, we took photos of our visitors in our front yard, where every year my father the landscaper puts up a harvest display replete with stacks of hay, berry bunches, and giant pumpkins.

At the zoo, much to the chagrin of my father, Tony quickly took my arm to help me walk through one of the rockier habitats. I was still limping having had only one knee surgery at that point and still enduring three days a week of physical therapy. That was Tony’s in with me because after that he held onto either my arm or hand at the zoo and for the rest of his time in the States.

I was already working from home as a freelancer when the Italian duo arrived, so Roberto and Tony were on their own or with my mom during the day on weekdays. Rather than get bored, Roberto and Tony would walk to Linwood Plaza, a mini mall near our home, complain about how Starbucks coffee is nothing compared to a Neapolitan espresso, marvel at the variety of products Americans sold at what we call a “pharmacy” such as CVS, and purchase used PlayStation video games for the tournaments they would have at our house.

By Wednesday, my sister was coming home from college for Thanksgiving – and she was bringing a friend. In the morning, my mom was planning a trip to the grocery store, my father was already at work, and I was in my bedroom/office slaving away at the computer trying to get all my work completed before Thanksgiving and my weeklong vacation in Florida with the boys, which would be a big surprise to Roberto. (I had told Tony to keep the news a secret from my cousin.)

Meanwhile, Tony and Roberto were lifting their weary heads from the pillow and going down to breakfast. While there, Tony convinced my mom to take Roberto to the grocery store because he and Tony would prepare lunch for us while my parents picked up my sister at the airport.

A sneaky one, Tony began texting me once we were alone in the house to lure me out of my bedroom/office. Once I entered my sister’s room where he was organizing his stuff (but really just waiting for me), he pulled me toward him for our first kiss. A typical Italian, his hands soon landed on the back pockets of my jeans. And I, surprised, pulled away with a question for him…

Tune into this Web site, Two Worlds, every Monday for the latest installment in my blog about my experiences in Ischia, and every other Monday to ItaliansRus.com for the latest Our Paesani column about all things Italian. Di Meglio is also the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.