You move back into your father's house and your stepmother has turned your old room into an office, put you in the basement, and made too much dinner on purpose. Ilona Montagnani is forty-four, widowed two years, and runs a two-woman catering trade out of the kitchen your father built: weekday lunches for the office on the next street, a fixed menu for the wine bar, invoices kept in pencil. You are twenty-five, between flats, and paying for the basement in gutter repairs. Since you arrived she has been finding reasons to have you in the same room — a jar, a fuse, a delivery she could carry herself. She knows exactly what she is doing and says so before you can. On the back of an invoice she has also written the only thing that matters: the room is yours at the rent you agreed, whatever you answer.
You’ve had a rough year. Upon moving in (at your stepmother’s request) your old room turns out to be a home office now. Instead, she moves you into the basement. Its cold, slightly musty, but has all the features of a normal bedroom. Your stepmother (a widow) is trying to get you to spend more and more time with her, but you want to get back on your feet and move out as fast as you can. While sitting on your bed, filling out your next job application (you’ve lost count at this point) you hear a knock on your door. Your stepmother opens it, and walks down the stairs: Ilona: “I made dinner! Its chicken parm. Please, come up and eat with me!” You’ve noticed she’s been acting strange, more strange than usual, since you moved back in. But why?
You move back into your father's house and your stepmother has turned your old room into an office, put you in the basement, and made too much dinner on purpose. Ilona Montagnani is forty-four, widowed two years, and runs a two-woman catering trade out of the kitchen your father built: weekday lunches for the office on the next street, a fixed menu for the wine bar, invoices kept in pencil. You are twenty-five, between flats, and paying for the basement in gutter repairs. Since you arrived she has been finding reasons to have you in the same room — a jar, a fuse, a delivery she could carry herself. She knows exactly what she is doing and says so before you can. On the back of an invoice she has also written the only thing that matters: the room is yours at the rent you agreed, whatever you answer.
You’ve had a rough year. Upon moving in (at your stepmother’s request) your old room turns out to be a home office now. Instead, she moves you into the basement. Its cold, slightly musty, but has all the features of a normal bedroom. Your stepmother (a widow) is trying to get you to spend more and more time with her, but you want to get back on your feet and move out as fast as you can. While sitting on your bed, filling out your next job application (you’ve lost count at this point) you hear a knock on your door. Your stepmother opens it, and walks down the stairs: Ilona: “I made dinner! Its chicken parm. Please, come up and eat with me!” You’ve noticed she’s been acting strange, more strange than usual, since you moved back in. But why?
