The Pioppo Trees - PT. 1

Heat intensifying, and humidity following toute suite, spring in Corbetta was strengthening.

You knew the season had truly started to cement itself when you saw little bundles of white fluff floating on every surface - pioppi seeds occupied all that they wanted to. They attached themselves to one another and formed great masses of allergy inducing clouds. Everyone who was born here, and had some portion of Italian DNA, was allergic to them. Thus began the weeks of sneezes, tissues and coughing.

Luckily, I was immune, as was the majority of my family, since we were mostly foreigners. The rest of the country, however, was done with being outside for a while.

Two weeks had passed since Ìspirah’s first shift and she’d adapted fairly well. There’d still be the occasional uncertainty in reacting to some of the odder interactions at Marilyn’s, but I assumed that to be due to cultural differences - I remembered having my fair share of awkwardness when I’d first moved here.

She carried on surprising everyone, seeming to know so much about so many things. The elders would get annoyed with having a young and foreign lady around who was so openly knowledgeable - she made them feel threatened to a noticeable degree. Other regulars had started theorising whether she could have possibly been a former spy or CIA agent, jokingly adding that, if that wasn’t the case, then clearly she must’ve been spending all of her free time binge-memorising encyclopaedias.

Sense of novelty yet to dissipate, she continued to stand out a lot.

“Seriously,” Kami thought out loud “is there anything she can’t do?”

“Or, doesn’t know so much about?” Lillian added.

“She carries a sense of order” was Cri’s observation “I like her”

“Too suspicious” deadpanned Viola.

I minded my own business, keeping my eyes on my notes - but, my cousin knew I was listening.

“What do you think, Mikey? Decoded anything yet?”

It was a Monday, after all - the lack of customers created the perfect opportunity for the girls to elaborate, or, better yet, gossip.

“If you’re all still so unsure about Ìspirah, organise a night out and invite her to come along” I proposed “It’s been a while since you’ve done anything like that altogether, so I’m sure Uncle Bill and Aunt Cel wouldn’t mind covering you guys for at least one evening shift”

There was silence.

Eyes locking between the four of them, they considered the option in an unspoken conversation.

“It has been a while” Cri murmured.

……

Friday night quickly arrived.

Excited not only at the idea of getting a break with her whole crew, Lillian was ecstatic at the prospect of learning more about Ìspirah, curiosity unwavering.

I had planned - and, was expecting - to stay at home for the night. So, one could imagine my surprise when, at 7pm, someone buzzed at my gate.

“Heya, Michael~!”

It was the entire coffee shop crew.

Letting them into the courtyard with some reluctance, I tried to figure out their intentions.

“Well~?” my cousin piped, flannel button-down and elephant jeans substituting her uniform, and a spatula holding up her chestnut bun “Are you ready to go, or what?”

Annoyed, I adjusted my weight on the side of my door frame.

“Please, explain”

“Ma come-?!” Kami cried “You didn’t think you were coming with us? We’ve been talking about it all week!” she pouted, shaking her head, neon pink hoop earrings dangling along “It was your idea after all”

Viola nodded in agreement, her dark punk-goth attire harshly contrasting Kami’s more colourful and vibrant outfit choices.

“I wasn’t exactly prepared for this” I stated “I thought it was going to be a ‘Marilyn’s-only’ night out”

I had fully intended on continuing reading Tennyson’s Poetry that evening, and I was not fond of surprises.

“I’ll pass for tonight, but thank you for the invite”

A loud “Urgh!” came from Viola “You’re such a disappointment!”

Ìspirah, who had her arm laced with Cri’s, was startled at Viola’s reaction. She fixed her loose grey turtle neck - a clear attempt to distract herself.

“What will you be doing tonight?” Cri inquired, navy blue dress looking straight out of the American fifties.

“Reading”

“But, you read every night!” Lillian complained.

“It’s my job”

“It’s your obsession” Viola poked back.

I shrugged it off.

Neither party willing to back down, we all fell into silence.

Ìspirah broke it.

“What are you reading?”

I told her.

“Which edition?”

Huh. No one outside of work would ask me something like that. I rose a brow.

“The 1999 one, edited by Robert W. Hill Jr.”

“Oh, did you make it to Georg Roppen’s essay on Tennyson and the theory of evolution?”

“I-” I was getting a direct taste of what the commotion was in town “No, I haven’t”

“I don’t want to spoil it for you” she smiled “Where are you at then?”

“I’m at Tennyson’s middle period poetry, Maud Enoch Arden”

“I love that bit, how do you fi-”

“Ok, we get it!” Viola exasperated “You’re both nerds!”

A sly grin crept onto Lillian’s face.

“Mikey, you can continue this conversation with Ìspirah all evening, if you come with us. But, we have reservations at Huan Cheng in, like, thirty minutes. So, it’s either now, or never”

Surrendering with a defeated sigh, I had to admit that I was intrigued by Ìspirah’s potential knowledge of poetry and literature.

“Alright” a smile went loose across my face “I give up. Let me get my jacket”

As I went inside, I chuckled at the choir of squeals and, of course, the “Freakin’ finally!” from Viola.