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.I place my napkin on my lap.I listen while my brothers-in-law and father talk college football, and as always, the chatter loops around to Notre Dame, and will the Fighting Irish place in the polls this year.The number of the year may change, the children may grow older, and we may add in a new baby or spouse here and there, but every autumn, and every Thanksgiving, the talk turns to Notre Dame football and will they or won't they.Alfred returns to the table with a look of concern on his face."Is Pamela okay?"He nods that she is.But I notice that my brother isn't eating.I'm not hungry either.Something is going on, something under the surface, looming in the depths.I can see the shadows.I can't name the beast, but it's there, lurking.I can feel it.And when I look at my brother, I know that he can too."Oh, Val, tell Feen about Buenos Aires.She hasn't heard any details," June says.My mother kicks me under the table."It was really nice," I say."That's all?" Feen says critically."I get on the bus and go gambling in Atlantic City--now that's nice.But Argentina? That should be something more.Am I right?" Feen waves her fork around."Tell about the river walk, and the cobblestones," June persists."They were lovely."Silence settles over the table."But you have people there, right?""Yes, Aunt Feen.""I never saw any pictures.""I have them.I can show you later.""Okay.Nothing like waiting months on end to see your relatives who I never met and probably never will.I'll be dead, and then maybe you'll get off your duff and think, Sheesh, should've shown Aunt Feen the pictures.You'd think you'd have made a video or something.I'm never gonna get on a plane again.I'd like to see your long-lost cousins before I die.""You will, Aunt Feen," I assure her.The kids giggle as they poke the glitter pumpkins with their forks."Don't destroy the table," my mother says to them nicely."You know, when you get to be my age, it's a bad idea to withhold anything.That includes mail.I could win the lottery, and if I died, right before I found out, let's say.You know, none of youse could collect the money? That'll show you.You know, I could go in a heartbeat.Boom.One minute here, the next, I'm code blue.So, if you wouldn't mind, get the pictures.""Later, Aunt Feen," Tess pipes up.My brother-in-law Charlie shifts uncomfortably in his seat."Who wants to go to the park?" my brother-in-law Tom says.Chiara, Rocco, Alfred, and Charisma leap out of their seats."The baby is fussy.She needs air." He kisses Jaclyn on the cheek.The truth is, Tom needs air.These family dinners don't sustain him--they literally choke him.Tess helps the girls into their coats.Alfred zips up the boys' parkas."You want me to go with?" Alfred asks Tom."Nope.We'll be fine," he says as he drops baby Teodora into the snuggly."The big girls and boys will help.""We will!" Chiara promises, but that devilish look returns to her face as she narrows her eyes.She probably plans to hail a cab, throw the baby in, and send her on a joyride through the five boroughs."And when you guys get back, we'll go up on the roof for chestnuts and marshmallows, okay?"The kids shout in delight as they race down the stairs."Kids, they are balls of energy," June laughs."That's why I never had any." Feen takes the napkin from her lap and tucks it into her collar and spreads it across her chest."They destroy everything they touch."I drain my wineglass.I look down at my food, which I still haven't tasted.But I'm on my third glass of wine.Not good."So get the pictures," Aunt Feen insists."Later." I force a smile."Val's not done eating, Aunt Feen," Mom says hurriedly."She can eat, and I can look at pictures.""We are not looking at pictures!" Charlie bellows."Why the hell not?" Feen demands."Not while my children are here.""Technically, they're at the park," Mom offers helpfully."What difference does that make?" Aunt Feen looks around, confused.Her eyeballs bounce around in her head like slot machine lemons."I don't want them to walk in and see the pictures," Charlie says firmly."Are they pornos or something?" Feen throws up her hands."They are not.pornos." My mother squeezes the word out, not wanting to allude to pornography at a family meal (or any other time, for that matter)."Tell your aunt what the problem is, Ma," Charlie says."There isn't a problem," I correct him."At least not to thinking people.""What are you saying?" Charlie looks at me."Stop squabbling and get the pictures," Aunt Feen says."When Tessie and I die, you people are all that's left.Our blood line will collapse like a tapped vein.So you found some relations on your side and I want to see them.What's the big deal?""Not now," Mom says."But I don't understand why.," Aunt Feen persists."Because they are black," Charlie blurts."That's right.African American."Aunt Feen is confused."They can't be African American--because they are not American.They are Argentinian," I correct him."But even that isn't exactly right--they are a mix of many cultures, Ecuadorian, African, and Italian.""No matter how you mix it, there's still one predominant color--and that would be black," Charlie corrects me."No, it's a mix.""A mix." Feen is surprised.I guess Gram didn't paint the fine details about our long-lost relatives.Aunt Feen thinks.Then she says, "Well, what did you expect? They're south of Mexico.""That doesn't have anything to do with it," Mom interjects."Huh.Look at a map." Feen shrugs."Okay, look.Before this careens headlong into a stone wall, let me just say that I met our family, I like them, they're good people, and Alfred and I are in business with them.Yes, they are black, and they are also Italian.""Blah blah blah," Feen mumbles."That's right.They are both.And they're beautiful people." I sound like an idiot.But I realize, in the center of this ridiculous argument, I react like one."Of course you'd say that [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]