Taste: My Life through Food(9)

MY GRANDMOTHER: They’re beautiful, look.

MY MOTHER: I see them.

My grandmother adds more than a few tomatoes to the bag.

MY MOTHER: What are you doing?

MY GRANDMOTHER: I’m giving you the tomatoes.

MY MOTHER: How many are you giving me?

MY GRANDMOTHER: I don’t know.

MY MOTHER: Stop. That’s enough.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Just take the tomatoes!

My mother sighs. A silence. The men finish their wine.

MY MOTHER: Kids, get your coats.

We do.

MY MOTHER: (To my father) Are you okay to drive?

MY FATHER: Who? Me?

MY MOTHER: Yes, you.

MY FATHER: I’m fine.

MY MOTHER: How much wine did you have?

MY FATHER: Not enough for you to worry about.

MY MOTHER: Have a coffee.

MY FATHER: I had a coffee.

MY MOTHER: Then why are you having wine?

MY FATHER: Because your father poured it for me.

MY MOTHER: That doesn’t mean you have to drink it.

MY FATHER: Well, it would be impolite.

He looks at my grandfather, who nods and smiles. My father finishes the wine and stands up. My grandmother hands him the now very full bag.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Here.

MY FATHER: Thank you.

MY GRANDMOTHER: And here.

She tries to hand him a five-dollar bill.

MY FATHER: What’s that?

MY GRANDMOTHER: Just take it.

MY FATHER: No, for what?

MY GRANDMOTHER: For the chicken you bought.

MY FATHER: I don’t want it.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Just…!

She stuffs the five dollars into the bag.

MY FATHER: I really don’t want it.

He takes it out of the bag. My mother comes over and snatches the five dollars out of his hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it onto the table.

MY MOTHER: Mom, I don’t want it.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Oh, for God’s sake.

MY MOTHER: (looking in the bag) What the hell did you put in here?

MY GRANDMOTHER: Nothing.

My mother takes the bag and rummages through it, inspecting various items.

MY MOTHER: I don’t want any zucchini. I just bought some.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Well, these are good ones.

MY MOTHER: I bought good ones.

My mother removes the zucchini.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Just take ’em!

MY MOTHER: I don’t want ’em!

My mother slams the zucchini on the table.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Ugh, you are so obstinate.

My grandmother discreetly picks up the crumpled five-dollar bill from the table and straightens it.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Where’s your son?

ME: (from the living room) In here!

MY GRANDMOTHER: Where are you?

I appear.

ME: Right here.

MY GRANDMOTHER: (sotto voce) Take this.

She hands me the five-dollar bill.

ME: No. Nonna, I—

MY GRANDMOTHER: Take it.

MY MOTHER: Mom!

MY GRANDMOTHER: Well, let him keep it if you don’t want it.

ME: I’ll keep it.

My father gestures to me to give him the money. I do. He places it on the table next to my grandfather, who gives a slight shrug.

MY MOTHER: (pulling a hunk of cheese from the bag) What’s this doing in here?

MY GRANDMOTHER: What?

MY MOTHER: This is the cheese I just brought you.

MY GRANDMOTHER: You take it.

MY MOTHER: Why would I take it? I gave it to you.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Yeah, but you like it.

MY MOTHER: So do you. That’s why I bought it for you!

MY GRANDMOTHER: I got enough cheese.

My mother opens the refrigerator and literally throws the cheese in and slams the door.

MY MOTHER: Unbelievable. Okay, kids, we’re going!

MY GRANDMOTHER: I don’t know why you just won’t take the money.

MY MOTHER: Because I don’t want the money. I swear to God I’m never bringing anything to you again.

MY GRANDMOTHER: Good. I don’t need anything.

MY MOTHER: Kids!

US: (from the other room) We’re here!

MY FATHER: Come say goodbye.

My sisters and I enter and say goodbye to our grandparents. As we do my grandmother hands us each a one-dollar bill. Actually, she shoves it down our shirt fronts.

US: No, Nonna, no…

MY GRANDMOTHER: Be quiet and take the money or none of you are coming back here again!

We look to our father, who just nods his head and slowly blinks his eyes, which means “It’s okay to take the money.”

US: Thank you, Nonna.

MY GRANDMOTHER: You’re welcome. Goodbye.

We kiss her in turn but she doesn’t actually kiss back. She offers up a cheek and then bats our lips away with it. My father hugs my grandfather and kisses my grandmother on the cheek. My mother kisses my grandfather.

My mother then kisses my grandmother, meaning their cheeks collide.

MY MOTHER: Okay. Thanks, Mom.

MY GRANDMOTHER: For what?

MY MOTHER: I’ll talk to you this week.

MY GRANDMOTHER: If I’m still alive.

My grandfather rolls his eyes. My father smiles.

MY FATHER: Jesus.

We all shout goodbye to one another a few more times as we depart.

On our way out, I see my grandmother return to the kitchen and my grandfather walk to an upholstered rocking chair, take an Italian newspaper from underneath the cushion, sit down, and begin to read.