Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
The cabbie asked, “Are you going to some kind of rave or something?”
“No. I’m just having brunch with my relatives.”
“If you say so.”
I handed him some cash and climbed out on the street side, to avoid the giant dicks. Then I just stood there for a while and tried to make sense of the scene before me. Was this my great aunt’s extremely eccentric way of welcoming me to her home? She’d always been a character, but this… this was above and beyond.
I was still standing there a minute or two later, when the front door opened and a tall, dark haired figure in a suit stepped onto the porch. He waved before joining me in the middle of the street. “Salvatore di Pietro, look at you! You’re all grown up, and weirdly, you look a hell of a lot like my brother Mike.” He gave me a back-slapping hug and asked, “Do you remember me? I’m your second cousin, Dante Dombruso. I think you were ten years old the last time we saw each other, at that family reunion in Sicily.”
“How could I forget? You saved me from a bunch of bullies, and then you spent the next hour hanging out with me and talking about comic books. That must have been incredibly boring for you, since you were about twenty at the time.”
“I’m surprised you remember all of that.”
“You were exceptionally kind to me. It made a big impression.” To a shy, pudgy little kid like me, he’d seemed like a superhero. Over two decades later, he was exactly like I remembered him, with the same mischievous sparkle in his dark eyes. But now, we were the same height and build.
We left the street as a car approached, and he said, “You were an interesting kid. I still have that watercolor painting you made for me of our great-grandmother’s house.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Even at that young age, you were unbelievably talented.”
“Art meant everything to me back then,” I said.
“And now?”
“That’s a complicated answer. It’s actually related to something I need to discuss with you, so can we find some time to talk in private later?”
“Definitely. Come on in, Nana’s looking forward to seeing you.”
“Okay, but first I have to ask.” I indicated the madness in the front yard with a sweeping hand gesture. “What exactly is happening here?”
“Nana and the neighbor across the street have been feuding for years. He’s a homophobic prick, so this is her way of flipping him the bird.”
“So, it’s always like this?”
“No. She usually puts on a show for special occasions. She also changes it up with the seasons, including a particularly raunchy holiday display involving Santa and some elves.”
“What was the occasion this time?”
“She found out the neighbor was hosting a brunch for some of his cronies today. There was no way she’d let the opportunity pass to annoy the living shit out of him.” His big grin told me he approved of her tactics.
“I see.” I didn’t really, but it was nice to know she was an ally. As we made our way to the front door, I asked, “Our of curiosity, why do you call her Nana and not Nonna?”
“When I was a baby, my first word was Nana. She was thrilled! I suspect I was actually babbling and randomly saying something like nah-nah, but she latched onto it. Now, it’s what almost everyone calls her, whether they’re related to her or not. About the only person who doesn’t call her that is her husband Ollie.”
“But she’s my grandmother’s sister, so I should address her as my great aunt.”
He shrugged and held the door open for me. “I’d suggest going with Nana. It’s not the same as calling her ‘grandmother.’ Just think of it as a nickname.”
The house was much more tranquil on the inside. We went from the elegant foyer to an inviting white and yellow kitchen, where Dante’s grandmother was pulling two pans of delicious-smelling cinnamon rolls out of the oven. As soon as she saw me, she exclaimed, “Holy shit, Sal, you’re all grown up! And you look a hell of a lot like my grandson Mikey. I can’t remember if I thought that the last time I saw you, because it was so damn long ago.”
She put the pans on a rack before pulling me down to her height, grabbing me in a hug, and patting my back with her oven mitts. She was even tinier than my Nonna, and she had a wildly different sense of fashion. While Nonna mostly wore housecoats and floral frocks, my great aunt was dressed in purple velour track pants, gold sneakers, and a hot pink sequined T-shirt. I hadn’t remembered her as being quite this colorful, literally and figuratively.
Dante said, “I told him the same thing about looking like Mike.” He found a photo on his phone and showed it to me. “This is the most recent picture I have of my brother.”