We weaved in and out of the narrow cobblestone streets and fought for space in between the scooters shooting madly back and forth amid crowds of people. Tourists seemed to mingle with the residents, and I savored the everyday routine that took place before my eyes: shopping at the local markets and filling baskets with fruit, bread, and salty meats to cook for dinner; children playing ball, laughing and zigzagging in a game of tag, while rows of laundry dried on ropes that were strung up and down the streets like Christmas lights, flapping in the wind. It was alive—the Naples my mother had always described to me—and I savored every footstep and felt my mother’s presence sinking into my soul.

We stopped at Sorbillo—one of the most famous pizzerias—and ate the most spectacular thin-crust pizza I’ve ever experienced. With buffalo mozzarella and only the most special of tomatoes and a light, crisp crust—the flavor and textures exploded in my mouth. Allegra groaned, and we got into a lively discussion of the specific ways the Neapolitans made pizza that could not be matched anywhere else in the world. She swore she’d come back and study the art before returning to dazzle Americans.

This time, Frannie didn’t make any mocking comments about her being a chef one day. I was grateful—Allegra didn’t need any further excuses to reject her mother’s peace offerings.

“I’ll be back. I have to go to the toilet,” Allegra said, wiping her mouth and disappearing.

I sipped my water, still reeling from the culinary experience. Frannie propped her elbows up on the table and leaned forward. “Mom, I didn’t realize you and Daddy kind of grew up together. It must’ve been hard to live with strangers at only fifteen.”

I sighed. “Yes, it was, but I was grateful I had a place to go. Daddy’s parents were wonderful to me.”

She seemed to struggle with her next question. “Did you—did you ever question your relationship with Dad? Since you were so young? It seems like being in the same household would be hard.”

And there was the heart of the problem. Did I tell her the truth or keep the lie to soothe my child? Did I give her a real piece of myself or allow her to believe the tale I’d spun to make things nice?

Right now, in Naples, I wanted to tell the truth.