Part 22 (1/2)
Papa took a deep breath and straightened. His face, which had been gray a second ago, turned red. Rosalie hadn't seen him look like that since the day after she'd gotten her learner's permit, took the car out by herself, and hit a police cruiser.
Rose pushed past Rosalie to get to the stove. ”I'm going to take the roast out of the oven so it doesn't end up tasting like cardboard. Paulie, take this pasta to the dining room and sit down.” She handed him the bowl. ”We don't need you getting in our way. Rosalie, you stay and help make gravy.”
Rosalie shut her mouth and did as she was told while Aunt Rose pulled the roast out of the oven and placed it on a plate before deglazing the roasting pan with wine.
She took a deep breath and continued. ”It isn't easy being your mother. She don't know what she don't know, and she don't know you. You go your own way; you always did. She tries to make you go her way. She thinks what she's doing is right. She does her best. She worries about you.”
Rosalie gathered the ingredients for gravy. ”I know.”
Aunt Rose continued to sc.r.a.pe the drippings with a wooden spoon. She pulled the spoon out of the pan and pointed it at Rosalie, swinging it back-and-forth, splattering everything in the area. ”When you go out there and eat, be polite and forgive your mama for what she's done.”
”Okay.” Man, the way that woman wielded a spoon, who needed guns?
”And leave your papa alone. You already said what you needed to say.”
She handed Rosalie the spoon to continue with the gravy and picked up a knife.
Rosalie took a deep breath and a step back-the woman was a menace with a spoon, with a knife she was downright terrifying. ”Aunt Rose, I know.”
Rose crossed herself and looked up to heaven. ”Yeah, so do I.”
”You know?”
Aunt Rose nodded as she sc.r.a.ped the knife against the sharpening steel. ”When men get to be a certain age, they do something stupid. Some buy an expensive sports car; some buy a toupee. Your father, he has all his hair, and he can't afford a second car.”
”But Aunt Rose...”
She pointed the knife at Rosalie and shook it. ”You stay out of it, Rosalie. No good can come from getting in the middle of something that has nothing to do with you.”
”But Mama-”
Aunt Rose made a slas.h.i.+ng gesture with the knife, effectively cutting off the rest of the argument. Rosalie stepped back. Aunt Rose looked as if she'd been one of The Three Musketeers in a past life.
”Your mama made her own bed years ago. She's content to sleep in it. Who are we to judge? Wait until you're married, you'll see.”
”Oh, yeah, like that's going to happen. I'm never getting married.”
”That's what you think. I see the man you'll marry. You'll be married within the year.”
”I see you're crazy. Why would I do something stupid like that?”
”Amore, Putto, Cupido. You can't run from your fate, and you can't stop it. Love dumbs you up, takes your eyesight, and changes you. You could get a little dumber. You're too smart for your own good. You always were. You take after me.” You can't run from your fate, and you can't stop it. Love dumbs you up, takes your eyesight, and changes you. You could get a little dumber. You're too smart for your own good. You always were. You take after me.”
Good Lord, Rosalie hoped not. She watched Aunt Rose slice the meat in perfect thin slices and stayed well away from her. ”Yeah, well, you're wrong, old lady.”
”You think calling me what I am is going to change your stars, you're the crazy one.” She picked up the roast and carried it into the dining room. Rosalie was left stirring the gravy and contemplating slipping out the backdoor.
”Okay, Rosalie.” Annabelle strode in. ”Things are getting tense out there. Mama's wringing her hands, and Pop looks as if he wants to kill someone. Joey's nervous. Even Johnny's starting to shake. You better get out there.”
”What the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do?”
”I don't know. You're the smart one in the family. You'll think of something.”
”Bring out more wine. That might help. And for G.o.d's sake, take that knife away from Aunt Rose. We don't need weapons at the table.”
”Good point.”
Rosalie filled the gravy boat, grabbed the ladle on her way to the dining room, and took a deep breath. Someday she'd laugh about this. Not now, but someday.
”Gravy's done.” Rosalie set it on the table.
Joey jumped out of his chair. ”Hi, Rosalie. It's nice to see you.”
He pulled out the chair for her; of course, it was the chair next to Johnny the Octopus. She looked up into Joey's eager face and mentally winced. What was she supposed to do? Lie and say it was nice to see him, too? Nope, she couldn't stomach it.
”Thanks.” She smiled and sat. ”Hi, Johnny.”
Johnny never stopped stuffing his face full of pasta. He nodded with spaghetti still hanging out of his mouth. G.o.d, how did Annabelle put up with such a pig?
Aunt Rose gave Johnny the evil eye. ”Johnny De Palma. What? Were you raised by wolves? Don't your people say grace?”
”Sure. Before we eat. But I'm already on the second course.”
”We wait until everyone is seated to say grace and eat nothing until the food is blessed.”
Johnny looked around and saw he was the only one eating. He shrugged and put down his fork and spoon.
Grace was said, and Joey stuffed his face after a fast ”Amen,” not even bothering to make the sign of the cross. Mama pa.s.sed Rosalie the pasta, puttanesca. puttanesca. How appropriate that she'd made a dish that, if translated into English, would be wh.o.r.e's pasta. Rosalie a.s.sumed it was a not-so-subtle hint. She put about one-tenth of what she wanted on her plate. It was all she could do to ignore the urge to eat right out of the d.a.m.n serving bowl. The pressure was killing her. How appropriate that she'd made a dish that, if translated into English, would be wh.o.r.e's pasta. Rosalie a.s.sumed it was a not-so-subtle hint. She put about one-tenth of what she wanted on her plate. It was all she could do to ignore the urge to eat right out of the d.a.m.n serving bowl. The pressure was killing her.
Rosalie watched Joey, who sat across from her, between Papa at the head of the table and Annabelle. She didn't know how she'd spent two years looking at Joey's face. Not that anything was wrong with it, but it was suddenly annoying, and that was before he opened his big mouth.
Aunt Rose told her she was getting dumber-ha! Joey was living proof that Aunt Rose was wrong. The smartest thing Rosalie had ever done was refuse to marry Joey. Of course, since meeting Nick, the t.i.tle ”the idiot” had replaced Joey's name in her thoughts. She could see Nick in thirty years asking, ”You remember the idiot you used to date before you met me?”
Rosalie dropped her fork and spoon at the same time. The clatter made everyone jump. Oh, G.o.d! What was she thinking?
”Sorry.” She reached across the table-she knew it was bad manners, but hey, these were desperate times- grabbed the wine bottle, and filled her gla.s.s.
d.a.m.n, why couldn't her family get with the program and serve wine like the rest of the world? In winegla.s.ses with stems. Italian winegla.s.ses were what everyone else refer to as juice gla.s.ses. They don't hold enough to deal with a dinner like this. Maybe that was why Italians had the world's lowest rate of alcoholism-stingy wine gla.s.ses.