Romano's careful tending of the tomato garden came to a screeching halt when a sudden summer rainstorm appeared one late afternoon, showering his property with a deluge of warm water from the Mediterranean. The Southern Italian cursed profusely as he was soaked to the bone. Gathering up his gardening tools and pulling his feet from the muddy ground with a loud squelching noise, he stared at the stormy sky with immense annoyance, before making several incredibly rude hand gestures at the rain clouds and heading back to the gate as fast as he could.
He only made it a few feet from the kissing gate of the tomato garden when he realized that his little Amato would end up all alone in the rain if he went back empty-handed. Crap, if I go back now, Amato's gonna end up out there all soaked. Tomatoes need water, but they don't need to be drowned in it.
He stood there for a moment, thinking. If he went back inside now, Amato would be lonely, but he'd be dry. If he didn't, Amato would have company, but he'd stay wet and probably catch a cold too.
...Dammit, I'm going soft.
Heading back through the gate, he made a mental note to scold the little one when they got back inside.
Dashing over to "Mataya" as fast as the mud would allow, he tried feverishly to remember if Amato had grown big enough to be plucked from the vine. Amato was about the size of a fist now, round and slightly more toasted looking, a nice golden brown tan. Looks like this'll have to do.
Muttering several curses as he felt his socks become heavy with mud, Romano pulled out his hedge clippers from his apron pocket, and carefully cut Amato from the vine, catching the little "tomato" with one hand as it dropped. Stashing the tool back in his apron, he gently placed the little grayish-white fruit into his remaining empty apron pocket, making sure to close the pocket by buttoning it shut to keep out rain.
Heading back through the gate, he tried very hard not to think about the fact that Amato was coming inside for the first time, and thus he would have company over for the first time in...quite a while.
Once he'd gotten back to his house, Romano all but yanked the door open in his haste to get in, kicking off his muddy shoes as he went. Yanking his tools from his apron pockets, he dumped the gardening equipment onto his kitchen table, wincing slightly as the heavy clattering of the tools sounded throughout the empty house. Damn, that's loud.
There was a moment of quiet, before he unbuttoned the apron pocket and scooped out Amato, saved from most of the harshness of the rain and thus only slightly damp. "Well, Amato, looks like it's just you and me."
He hadn't really been expecting a reply, but he got one anyway. The "tomato" in his hands vibrated slightly and let out a soft mumbling noise, as if agreeing with him.
Romano almost dropped Amato, he was so surprised. It was true that he knew that Amato was alive, he'd felt it breathing when he'd first found it, after all, and then Nonno had shown up and told him, essentially, that he needed to take care of it. But that didn't mean it was any less surprising when his tiny charge started making noises, almost as if trying to talk.
I wonder if this is how parents feel when they hear their kid's first words.
He felt a warm feeling bubbling up inside him; it took him a moment to realize that the feeling was pride. Pride that he'd gotten Amato to grow enough to actually start trying to talk, even if right now the "talking" was still in the "make funny noises" stage.
Basking in the warmth of the feeling, Romano slowly grew aware that he was still rather wet, and would need dry clothes of he didn't want to end up sick. Cradling Amato in his hands, he headed off to his bedroom, intent on getting a dry pair of pajamas. Even if he didn't always sleep in them, they were good clothes to laze about in, especially on rainy days like this, when all an Italian could hope for was a nice warm bunch of blankets to nap the day away in.
Pulling the door open, he placed Amato on a pillow on his bed, before yanking his closet door open and rummaging about in a pile at the bottom, grinning victoriously as he pulled out some dark red shorts and a tank top. Hurrying off to the bathroom, he quickly exchanged his uniform for his sleepwear, before dashing back to his bedroom, flopping down on his bed with a sigh of contentment.
Turning his head slightly to look at Amato, he wondered vaguely if the little "tomato" was uncomfortable, resting on the cold material. Amato, he knew, had some semblance of body heat as a living thing, but it wasn't much, just a mild heat, like holding a freshly laundered towel. The warm outdoor sunshine had done most of the work in keeping Amato warm, there was no warm sunshine in here, just rain outside. The pillow certainly wasn't going to keep Amato warm either.
Well, at least no one's around to see me do this.
Scooping his tiny charge off the cold pillow, he cradled Amato to his chest, curling into a ball to help keep more body heat. Blankets were pulled up his chin as he felt around to his left for a few moments before managing to find the light switch by his bed.
As the room darkened and he felt sleep overtake him, Romano managed to mutter a quiet, "Night, Amato..."
Just before he fell asleep, Romano could have sworn he heard a soft, almost unnoticeable whisper back of, "Night, Mama..."