A Woman Under the Influence

A Woman under the Influence

A twist of the lid and the jar seal breaks. The heady aroma makes her swoon. Like agates, the terracotta gems collide in the amber liquor. The stems of the elegant dolci invite. These piatti domenicali, like Sunday best clothes, are flamboyant. Her fingers slip into the jar to snare a sweet morsel. Eyes closed in concentrated pleasure, she nibbles on memories.

“Ma perche no ciliege?” Nonna demanded when her daughter crossed the cherries off the shopping list. Nonna could be prickly. She wasn’t about to be tucked away like a used Kleenex. Her lips twitched. She gestured wildly.
“Because, Mama, you take medication. The alcohol interferes with it,” Chita said. Nonna was sure this was a monstrous lie, invented entirely on the spot. She shook her head, irritated with this daughter who understood so little it wasn’t even worth it to argue.
Nonna lived in a third floor apartment. Nudging ninety-two, she didn’t climb the stairs much anymore. Her trips to the corner store were fewer, always the vigilant Chita beside her.
I hiked the curvy tunnel of steep narrow steps and wondered how Nonna was able to navigate them. She must have taken her breath from the walls. I clung to the slender iron pipe that followed the curve of plaster to her door. I knocked.
“Avanti!” Nonna’s voice was strong and clear. “Avanti!”
“It’s me, Nonna, Toni.”
“Ah, che cara, come! Come sta!” I joined Nonna, settled onto the hassock near her feet and rested my chin on her lap. Her black wool-wrapped legs crossed like two geese joined at the neck. Nonna held me close and drew her mottled hand across my face. Anisette mingled with pungent espresso.
“So, cara, I was hoping you would come to see your old Nonna. Poor Chita,” she said, pointing at the floor toward her daughter’s apartment, “she’s in bed, malatta. Two days now. And this is the last of my Lavazza.” She waved the empty cup at me.
“Nonna, I’ll go to the store for you. Here, make a list.” I reached for a paper and pencil.
“No, no, no. We go together, just to Teti’s, around the corner. I see my paisan and bring him some minestrone.” Nonna unfolded herself from a hunched double knot, eased up from the chair and got her net sling.
“I’ll tell Chita where we are going so she won’t worry,” I said.
Nonna smoothed her hair.
“We’ll be gone only a minute, don’t bother her, let her rest.”
“Piano, piano,” Nonna whispered as we passed Chita’s apartment and went out to the car. We drove around the block to the market. Mr.Teti, dodging a brood of pigeons, came to meet us.
“Benvenuta, Regina, come sta? I have fresh rabbit. Come, I’ll cut you some.” Mr. Teti scooped Nonna from the car. Heads together, they gossiped as they walked. It was an intimate thing, this exchange taking place under the hanging salamis and wheels of pecorino. Nonna gave Mr. Teti the minestrone and he grinned as he filled her bag.
“Andiamo!” Nonna called. I joined her, clutching a fistful of caramelle. Mr. Teti carried the bag to the car. Nonna put it on the floor and carefully balanced it between her legs, the handles secure on her wrist.
Back in the driveway, Nonna shot a glance to the second floor window. The shade was still down. She was right. Like swimmers fifty or sixty strokes from the shore, we hadn’t gone far enough to be missed.
“Nonna, give me the bag. I’ll check on Chita on the way up,” I said.
“No, cara. I’ll call her later. This rabbit needs to go into the icebox,” Nonna insisted, hugging the bag close.
We scaled the stairs, planting our feet cautiously on the worn treads. When we reached Nonna’s apartment, I heaved a sigh. We had made it without incident.
“Grazie, cara,” she whispered. She pinched my cheeks and the net bag swung against my chest. As she leaned in to kiss me goodbye, I heard the slosh of cherries in brandy.

Story ID:	824
Written by:	toni giarnese (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family Memories
Location:	new hartford usa
Year:	2006