slipped by in a flurry of chopping, tasting, baking, and setting the table.
When everyone was finally gathered in the dining room, with the flickering candlelight casting warmth across the table, Elly felt a sense of accomplishment as she looked over the meal she’d helped prepare. The roast beef set amongst the roasted beets, yams, fennel, and potatoes. Sprigs of rosemary finishing off the platter. The oblong tray of encrusted cheese that held layer upon layer of light, homemade pasta sheets and a mixture of ground beef and ground sausage browned to perfection. A salad of fresh greens mixed with pears and a crumbling of blue cheese. Broccoli drizzled with olive oil and served with bright lemon wedges. It was perfect.
“Merry Christmas!” said Anthony, who’d picked a seat next to Elly. He tried to place his hand over hers, but she pulled away her hand. Embarrassed by her awkwardness, Elly picked up a glass of sparkling cider and made a toast. “To family,” she said.
Mimi, Fee, and Anthony raised their glasses. But not Itsy. Itsy stared down at her hands. “Don’t mind her, Elly. She’s always been moody,” yelled Fee.
Itsy wrote on her pad. And you’ve always been FAT.
“I have not. Tell her, Mimi. Remind her that I was thin, when we were young!”
Mimi slammed her hand on the table, clattering the gold-plated silverware together. “ Abaste! ” she yelled. “You all stop this nonsense and celebrate with me. Look, I have my granddaughter home, and it’s Christmas !”
“Fine,” Fee said as softly as she could.
“Hey, has anyone heard the one about the three witches and the priest?” asked Anthony, breaking the ice.
Elly stole looks at him throughout what turned into a delightful meal, despite its rocky beginning, thanks to him. How could any man be so kind? It worried her, and it tugged at her. Maybe men weren’t all like Cooper. Maybe some could be trusted.
* * *
After the plates were cleared and the pots and pans cleaned, Fee, Itsy, and Anthony all went home to their respective apartments.
“We are done. Christmas is officially over. Come, sit and talk to me. I want to know everything,” said Mimi.
They sat together on the couch. Mimi put her feet up on an embroidered ottoman and reached beside her into a yarn-filled basket taking out a crochet hook and a small multicolored square. She began to crochet in the round.
“I guess you pretty much have the whole story, Mimi,” said Elly, fascinated by the swift movement of her grandmother’s hands.
“Maybe. But how are you feeling?” Mimi tapped her head. “In here.”
Mimi set aside her yarn and went around the back of the couch, gathering Elly’s long hair up and making a thick braid.
“That summer you spent with us, the one you can’t remember? We spent a week in the cottage at Far Rockaway. What a wonderful summer that was. We had you baptized. You received your first communion and were sealed into the church by confirmation. Old Father Martin, drunk and senile, petitioned the church so we could do it all at once. But the thing is … You felt safe. You told me so. You always felt safe here.” Mimi smiled, remembering and laughing, “Babygirl.”
“I wish I remembered. Why can’t I remember?”
Mimi dropped the braid and tilted Elly’s head back with her finger looking into her eyes and seeing the truth. “You will. It’s already starting.”
“I hope so,” said Elly, looking upside down at Mimi.
“Well, let me know when you do. It was the summer Itsy decided to speak. She told you something.”
“What did she say?”
Mimi sat down and picked up her crochet again.
“I don’t know. All we heard was mumbling from the upstairs room. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Itsy … or remember it yourself. It’s always killed me, not knowing what made her break her silence that day.”
Elly wanted to remember.
She looked at her grandmother. The perfectly black hair in the flawless set, the
When everyone was finally gathered in the dining room, with the flickering candlelight casting warmth across the table, Elly felt a sense of accomplishment as she looked over the meal she’d helped prepare. The roast beef set amongst the roasted beets, yams, fennel, and potatoes. Sprigs of rosemary finishing off the platter. The oblong tray of encrusted cheese that held layer upon layer of light, homemade pasta sheets and a mixture of ground beef and ground sausage browned to perfection. A salad of fresh greens mixed with pears and a crumbling of blue cheese. Broccoli drizzled with olive oil and served with bright lemon wedges. It was perfect.
“Merry Christmas!” said Anthony, who’d picked a seat next to Elly. He tried to place his hand over hers, but she pulled away her hand. Embarrassed by her awkwardness, Elly picked up a glass of sparkling cider and made a toast. “To family,” she said.
Mimi, Fee, and Anthony raised their glasses. But not Itsy. Itsy stared down at her hands. “Don’t mind her, Elly. She’s always been moody,” yelled Fee.
Itsy wrote on her pad. And you’ve always been FAT.
“I have not. Tell her, Mimi. Remind her that I was thin, when we were young!”
Mimi slammed her hand on the table, clattering the gold-plated silverware together. “ Abaste! ” she yelled. “You all stop this nonsense and celebrate with me. Look, I have my granddaughter home, and it’s Christmas !”
“Fine,” Fee said as softly as she could.
“Hey, has anyone heard the one about the three witches and the priest?” asked Anthony, breaking the ice.
Elly stole looks at him throughout what turned into a delightful meal, despite its rocky beginning, thanks to him. How could any man be so kind? It worried her, and it tugged at her. Maybe men weren’t all like Cooper. Maybe some could be trusted.
* * *
After the plates were cleared and the pots and pans cleaned, Fee, Itsy, and Anthony all went home to their respective apartments.
“We are done. Christmas is officially over. Come, sit and talk to me. I want to know everything,” said Mimi.
They sat together on the couch. Mimi put her feet up on an embroidered ottoman and reached beside her into a yarn-filled basket taking out a crochet hook and a small multicolored square. She began to crochet in the round.
“I guess you pretty much have the whole story, Mimi,” said Elly, fascinated by the swift movement of her grandmother’s hands.
“Maybe. But how are you feeling?” Mimi tapped her head. “In here.”
Mimi set aside her yarn and went around the back of the couch, gathering Elly’s long hair up and making a thick braid.
“That summer you spent with us, the one you can’t remember? We spent a week in the cottage at Far Rockaway. What a wonderful summer that was. We had you baptized. You received your first communion and were sealed into the church by confirmation. Old Father Martin, drunk and senile, petitioned the church so we could do it all at once. But the thing is … You felt safe. You told me so. You always felt safe here.” Mimi smiled, remembering and laughing, “Babygirl.”
“I wish I remembered. Why can’t I remember?”
Mimi dropped the braid and tilted Elly’s head back with her finger looking into her eyes and seeing the truth. “You will. It’s already starting.”
“I hope so,” said Elly, looking upside down at Mimi.
“Well, let me know when you do. It was the summer Itsy decided to speak. She told you something.”
“What did she say?”
Mimi sat down and picked up her crochet again.
“I don’t know. All we heard was mumbling from the upstairs room. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Itsy … or remember it yourself. It’s always killed me, not knowing what made her break her silence that day.”
Elly wanted to remember.
She looked at her grandmother. The perfectly black hair in the flawless set, the
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