Troublemakers

"Ahh! Mio gattina." My father called, throwing his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. He smelled like cigar smoke and old spice, a smell that gave me great comfort. I'm a daddy's girl, so shoot me.

He called me 'gattina,' which means little cat, because he thinks I'm fierce and independent. He's called me that for as long as I can remember. My mother tells the story a lot better than I do, so I'll give you the short version. One night I night when I was two, my mother came to tuck me. My father had to work at the office late, so he couldn't do it. I told her I didn't need her to tuck me in, that my daddy had to do it. She fought with me for an hour, before she realized I wasn't going to let up. So she left my room and I got out of my bed, turned off my light, and tucked myself in. I figured if my daddy wasn't going to do it, then I was.

"Papà." I breathed, squeezing him tightly.

When we pulled away from one another, I reached up and kissed him on both of his cheeks. His brown black hair was starting to get a salt and pepper feel to it, but his skin was still as smooth as a teenagers. The only give away to his age was his hair, because his eyes still sparkled mischievously like a child's, and I knew for a fact he could run circles around any sixteen year old boy I knew. He beamed down at me lovingly and ushered me towards the kitchen, forcing me to stop taking in all of his features.

"Ma!" I called, rushing over to my red headed mother and taking her into my arms. Her warm laugh shook both of our bodies as she kissed my cheek, her arms around my shoulders. My grandmother laughed at the site, clapping her hands and pulling them to her chest. I could hear the voices of my aunts, but I hadn't spotted them yet. I should have known they would be here. You are never really alone when you belong to an Italian family. You're practically neighbors, because you see at least one member of the family every day.

"Victoria, it's been too long." My mother scolded, placing her hands on each side of my face and taking in my appearance.

"No scratches, no bruises, and those shoes are incredible." She gushed.

It was my turn to laugh, as I shrugged my mother away. "I'm fine mamma, I've just been busy working. I have some good news to share with you all tonight."

I gestured to my shoes. "There a size seven, you can have them if you want."

She waved her hands at me and tisked, returning her green eyes to the boiling pot on the stove in front of her. "I'm too old for those. Comfort over beauty these days."

"You're always beautiful dolcezza." My father beamed, earning him a touching kiss from my mother. Gag me.

I quickly made myself scarce and hugged my grandmother Karmella, one of the two I was named after. She scolded me for not being around lately, but after a few choice words she was pinching my cheeks and complementing me on my verbal skills. My Italian had gotten a lot better over the years, especially my cursing. She took pride in the fact that I inherited her cheeky tongue. The old bat was a real piece of work.

"Great, look what the dog dragged in." A voice drawled from my left.

My green eyes turned to land on a tall dark skinned boy. His pink lips were turned into a smile, his brown eyes glinting playfully in my direction. His hair was gelled back like he had chosen to mimic John Travolta in his musical debut, Grease. I rolled my eyes to the chandelier and back. "It's 'look what the cat dragged in' dumb fuck."

His laughter boomed from out of his chest. "Same old Tori."

I grinned from ear to ear and took my cousin Roberto into my arms. "Nothing will ever change me Bert, you know that."

"How's work?" He asked, before bringing his beer to his lips and stepping out of the patio doorway.

I took the opportunity to join him and the rest of my family, cousins and uncles, on the deck before answering. "I actually have a lot to tell you guys."

"Tori!" My uncle Vincent hollered, drawing everyone's eyes to me as they yelled their hellos.

Us Italians are loud.

"Juicy or disappointing?" Bert joked, his eyebrows rising with curiosity.

"Ma, Papà." I hollered back into the kitchen, leaning my back against the open sliding glass doors between the room and the patio. "I have to tell everyone something, you paying attention?"

"Shoot baby." My mother nodded, her red hair bobbing from her movements, her green eyes never leaving the food before her. She took her cooking seriously, especially considering my grandmother had to teach her most of what she knows. She is terrified my grandmother wont approve and my father wont like it, even after all of these years.

"I got offered a really neat job last week and I accepted." I grinned, my family all yelling their appreciation.

"Mio gattina! That's great!" My father belted, his eyes shining with pride. "What did I tell you, eh? I told you that Marissa woman would see your worth."

I bit my lip to keep myself from breaking my face and nodded. "I'm leaving for London, Saturday."

My mother gasped, dropping the ladle and looking at me in shock. "For how long?"

I shrugged. "For as long as it takes, I guess. I'm not really sure. We haven't discussed deadlines yet, other than the books I am currently editing."

"I don't like this iníon." She scolded. "Who are you going to be staying with?"

"I'll be sharing an apartment with whomever the boys choose to illustrate their book. I don't know who they hired to be the photographer, yet."

"You're traveling outside of the country without your father and I and going to live in some strange city for God knows how long! Are you trying to give me an anxiety attack?" She sighed, clutching her heart, my father chuckling softly next to her.

I frowned and threw my hands up in the air. "Mamma," I shot her a pointed look. "I am twenty years old, I can handle myself."

"Yeah Ailene, no sweat." Bert jumped in. "No one would be stupid enough to try and take Tori down. Have you seen her right hook?"

I chuckled and elbowed my cousin in the ribs. My father shot me a wink and I let my eyes dance across the room to see what my Nonna thought. She was beaming at me, my aunts all whispering to each other beside her. I knew they had to be bickering amongst themselves, two of them agreeing with my father and the other trying to convince them all my mother was right to be worried. They always bickered. I guess it was a sibling thing.

"I don't like it Roberto!" She scolded, holding the ladle up and shaking it at him. "She's my baby girl, my only baby girl. You'll understand one day."

I sighed and her shoulders fell. "My sweet Victoria, I am so proud of you baby girl, I just worry. I'm your mother, I am allowed to worry."

"You have an iPhone and a laptop Mamma, we will talk all the time, just like we do now. You guys can always video chat me during dinner. It will be like I'm still here." I joked.

Vinny chuckled and agreed. "Yeah, this is uncle Nico's daughter we're talking about guys. She'll still find a way to be a pain in the ass from five thousand miles away."

"Fuck you!" I yelled, holding my middle finger up in the air.

The house filled with laughter, my heart floating in my chest from all of the love in the room. My family was and always will be my rock. Without all of them I wouldn't be the person that I am now. I wouldn't have a smartass mouth, an odd accent, my father's right hook, my courage, my self-esteem, nothing. Each of them all had an effect on me, and I held a piece of them all in my personality. Being away from the whole of them was going to be hell.

I mean, my mother was already complaining and she just saw me on Monday. When you can't go four days without seeing someone, how are you going to go four months or longer? I consider myself to be a pretty independent person, and I can take care of myself, but I haven't been away from my family for longer than a week in my entire life. This was going to be tough.

I spent the rest of the night cherishing every moment spent with my outrageously loud and vulgar family. I didn't want to take any of the time I was spending with them for granted, because I knew I would be homesick in record timing. So I took the mental pictures of all of us gathered around the dinner table on the patio, sharing laughs and yelling at one another, and locked it up in the safe inside my heart.

Two more days and I would be on a ten hour flight heading to London, England. I would be spending the next couple of months of my life 4,798 miles away from Seattle, Washington and 8 hours ahead of my family.

Suddenly, I wasn't so happy about this business trip.