MIA
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Quickly, I got up and stole the seat Anastasia's seat before they could all seat back, as she was the one sitting near nonna Giulia and nonnos Matteo, as well as closer to mama and zio Ricco. "I want to seat with mama and nonna," I claimed before any of them could complain.
"Mischievous bambina," nonna chuckled. "Va bene, sit with us."
"Pieter and Anastasia, you two seat where Rosa and Mia were siting. Rosa come here and sit where Pieter was sat," zio Ricco told them, and I couldn't hold my grin. And by the look he gave me, he noticed I was doing it on purpose. "Seems like you may have changed on many things but your mischievousness remained as intact as it was before, mia cara."
I couldn't help blushing to that, as I put the bottle of whiskey at the side of my plate, "It's in my blood, can't be helped, zio."
And by how Rosa was glaring at me across the table, she hated her place. Welcome to the club, I hated mine before too, at least she has the gracious luck of sitting across my grandiose beauty. Many people back in Massachusetts would go crazy for this opportunity.
"Mama," I spoke after everyone was seated, "I have a question."
She seemed happy with that, "Anything you want, mia cara."
"Would you cut me out of the famiglia if I was bisexual or lesbian?" My voice came out as innocent as I intended, and I'm pretty sure more than eight people choked on their drinks. Rosa definitely did in front of me.
"Cut you out of the famiglia? Absolutely not, Mia. What kind of mama do you think I am? It would be surprising, for sure, but you are my little daughter. I would accept you however you are. Even if your heart lies with a girl," she sound almost offended, exactly the answer I was asking for.
"Are you infatuated with a Lady, mia cara?" Zio Ricco asked curiously.
"She ain't, papa. Cut the bullshit, Mia," Leo burst out laughing, and Luigi followed. "She is the straightest person I've ever met in my entire life. She ain't gay at all. There's not a gay cell in her body," he gave me a incredulous look.
I couldn't help giggling at his reaction, "I said 'if', not that I am, Leo."
"Then don't leave it dubiously, because you ain't, Mia," Luigi mocked.
"You are the least gay person in this entire room."
"Va bene, va bene, you made that clear already. I'm asking out of curiosity."
"Why the curiosity then?" Nonna narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"I know zio Ricco is acceptable, as he accepted Leo with Luigi in open arms, but I wanted to know if mama was too. Just for the sake of it. I know that papa was fully okay with it as well," I leaned back on my seat. "That's reassuring. Everyone should be accepted by their famiglias in the exact way they are, without needing to change a thing. It's heart-breaking when someone comes out after doing their all to gather enough courage for it, and they are thrown aside by their parents and their famiglia. It happened with two of my friends in my first years in MIT, when I was alone with papa, and it was a heart-breaking sight."
Nonno Enzo Campobello seemed surprised by my words, "You are more lovely than you let it meet the eye, little Mia."
I stilled up, "Nope, I'm not. It's the alcohol."
"Hah, Mia, that little alcohol you drank so far isn't enough to get your ass drunk," Leo mocked and I glared at him across the table. "What? Come on, we both know you have some crazy tolerance to it. Now, if you drank two to three bottles of that whiskey, then you could blame the alcohol."
"Shut up, Leonid!" I growled.
"I've been curious about this. Since when do you drink, Mia?"
I turned to mama, pressing my lips together, "Since I was 14. Papa allowed me to drink a bit every time I was feeling too anxious about something, or that I was in a hyperactive peak of energy. Alcohol warms the body and calms you down. He told me in his homeland they started drinking early in family, but I only drank with him, in our apartment. He also taught how to make cocktails, since he liked doing them, and we would alternate doing it when Nila was there with us."
"True, he was amazing at cocktails," zio Ricco giggled.
"That's not fair, papa told us we could only drink at 18!" Bram gasped.
"None of you have severe anxiety or ADHD, do you?" I mocked. "There you have it. It was better than doping me down in medicine that would mess me up. Again, it was just casually."
"Is it okay to talk about your time with him in there, Mia?" Mama asked very carefully and I turned to her. "I'm just curious, since you never told me what you two did in there aside from studying. But if you don't feel okay with talking about this, I'll understand and I won't press you on it."
Licking my lips, I turned a bit of the whiskey on the glass and took a sip from it, "What do you want to know exactly, mama?"
"Papa said he had a secret soundproof room in the apartment, what was it? You never allowed us to step foot inside it in all the time we were in the US, we've been curious about it," Willem leaned closer on the table, gaze on me.
"Not one, two. The shooting range, to train shooting and archery, as well as throwing knives and daggers, and the training room where he trained me on martial arts and boxing," I stared at my glass. "He would wake me up at 5, we would run around the neighborhood for one hour, by 6 we would go to the gym for two hours, by 8 we would finally have breakfast. By 8 pm we would have dinner, 9 pm we would train fighting on the secret rooms until midnight, for three hours, as soon as I was done I would take a bath and go straight to bed. Four and a half to five hours of sleep per night, he got me exhausted enough to sleep heavily."
"Why? You had martial arts and shooting lessons in here with the others, separately, since you wanted to do it alone with the masters, but still."
She's right, I did, but it's different.
"I asked papa to build me stronger, since he's a martial arts champion and when he attended the army in Netherlands he was a sniper. It was different. He asked me if I wanted him to go easy, to go slow, or if I wanted a real training like the one he got from his famiglia and in the army," a ghost of a smile appeared on my lips, "I chose the later. He would only not train me on Sunday as it was the day to relax as he called, when he would help me hone my cybernetic skills, teach me some other things," such as different types of dances, desserts, and we would go ice skating in the club.
In my spare time, I would read books, draw new things, and make projects.
"It was our routine from when I was 12 until I was 15. He took me on the nutritionist and she counseled me on what to eat to keep gaining strength and keep my body the way I wanted, and it worked. After he passed away, I forced myself to keep doing it all, to keep the memories with me. I trained myself, honed the very training he gave me, recalling every detail until it was part of who I was."