Nordic Heat

by Lizzie T. Leaf

  “Shit.” This was the thing nagging at the back of her mind. She’d told her mother they’d pick out the drapes and have dessert at Angela’s favorite pastry shop a few doors down from the decorator’s.

  “Don’t swear, dear. You know I don’t like that. A foul mouth’s not becoming to a lady.”

  She pictured the look of reprimand on her mother’s face. Damn, the woman was good. She only had to use a certain tone of voice and Isabella felt like she stood in the room. “Look, Ma. I’m getting a late start today. Why don’t we do this next Saturday? I promise I’ll be there with bells on.”

  “No. I’ll wait.” Angela gave a long sigh. “I have to get this done today. Your father and I have guests coming tomorrow, and you better be one. I can’t have a house full of people thinking I have no taste. The windows are bare, except for the shades.”

  Great. She used the ‘poor me, my daughter doesn’t care about me’ voice. Lord help her Jewish friends if their mothers were any worse with the guilt trips than an Italian Catholic mother. “Okay, okay. I get the picture. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hung up and banged her head against the wall, then regretted her action. She guilted me into something I don’t want to do, again.

  Damn, how did I forget the party tomorrow? Her parents were throwing a birthday party for her father’s oldest brother. Another fun family event. A room full of pregnant cousins holding their bellies, while their mothers clucked sympathetically to Angela over poor Isabella’s inability to find a man.

  Isabella swallowed several aspirin before stepping into the shower. Drugs combined with the caffeine she’d pick up on her way to the subway might give her the strength to survive this expedition with her mother.

  An afternoon spent with Ma while hung-over is sure to give me abetter appreciation of Dante’s Inferno.

  The party was in full swing when Isabella arrived. Her parents came from families who felt it their duty to take the Bible literally “to go forth and multiply.” Her mother’s parents were blessed with six kids, and her father’s did even better with eight. The current generation seemed to have inherited the same philosophy. She counted at least seven female cousins with protruding bellies.

  “Scary, isn’t it?” Her brother Gino came in behind her.

  “’bout time you got here. I thought I was going to be thrown to the piranha alone. There’s been a regular feeding frenzy up to now.” Isabella hugged her brother and laughed. The two of them had to stick together since both were a disappointment in the area of marriage and reproduction.

  “I wish Ma would get the idea through her head I’m gay and leave me out of the mating rituals she cooks up.” Gino’s voice reflected his frustration.

  Isabella looked at her brother. His looks were the kind that made women’s heads swivel when he walked by. Probably some guys, too. He was gorgeous, tough, and dangerous looking with dark hair brushing his collar and the muscular body a longshoreman or a body builder would envy.

  In fact, his build probably came in handy in his non-family approved choice of employment. He ran numbers, and Isabella didn’t want to know what else, for Joey DeBenedetto, a known Mafia don. Yep, one of Joey’s boys was gay, and Isabella often wondered how well that little detail would go over if his working peers figured out Gino’s sexual preference.

  “Oh, Gino. It’s just a phase. You’ll grow outta it and give your mama beautiful babies before she’s too old to enjoy them.” Isabella did a pretty good imitation of their mother’s response when the subject of Gino’s sexual orientation came up.

  “So, what’s so funny?” Hands on her hips, their mother looked from one to the other.

  Thank heavens the noise level in the room was loud enough Angela’s bat-like sonar didn’t pick up the joke at her expense. “Nothing, Ma. Gino and I were talking about how much this gathering looks like a maternity ward.”

  “You should be so lucky.”

  Angela shot her one of ‘the looks’ and Isabella mentally kicked herself. Damn. Talk about sticking your foot in your mouth. Now, if she doesn’t give the lecture to go with it I’ll be home free. No such luck.

  “Bella, look at your cousins, blooming with the new life growing in them. When are you going to give up this career foolishness and find a nice husband?”

  Career foolishness? She didn’t think being named the top weather forecaster in New York State, not just the city, foolish. Isabella took her job as Chief Meteorologist for WDWI television seriously and wished for once, so would her mother.

  “Your father and me, we’re not getting any younger, and we want grandchildren to bounce on our knees and the sooner the better.” Angela sighed for effect and batted her wet eyes. “Do you know how much it hurts us to see all the grandchildren our brothers and sisters have and us without any?”

  No, no. Not the tears, Ma. Please don’t start with the tears. Damn, she hadn’t been here fifteen minutes and things had already reached the waterworks stage.

  A glance at Gino didn’t help the situation. Her brother’s face turned red from trying to hold back laughter. She fought the impulse to poke him in the ribs when her mother took care of things for her.

  “And, you.” Angela turned to her only son and pushed her finger in the middle of his chest. “When are you going to find a nice girl and settle down? Find a decent job that’s not going to end up getting you put in jail? Mark my word, working for Joey DeBenedetto is going to get you nothing but trouble.”

  “Ma, I told you a thousand times. I’m gay. I don’t like women in that way. When I find a life partner, I don’t think he’ll be able to conceive a baby. So give it up already.” Gino’s chin jutted out in stubborn defiance just as it had since he was a little boy.

  “Ahh, it’s just a phase. You’ll outgrow it.”

  Isabella didn’t dare look at her brother in fear they’d both end up rolling on the floor with laughter.

  Her father’s voice calling “Precious” saved them.

  The lump of gratitude she always felt when Lou Girardi saved Isabella from a conflict with her mother clogged her throat. I definitely scored big in the father department.

  “Precious, people are asking when Bruno is going to cut his birthday cake.” Lou winked at his son and daughter as he led his wife away.

  “Wow. Pop to the rescue again.” Gino let out a long sigh and shook his head as he watched their parents.

  “Amazing isn’t how he knows when she’s pushed us to the limit. Pop never says much, but he sure knows how to manage Ma when it comes down to the wire.” Isabella was sure the relief flowing threw her body matched her brother’s.

  “He never gets the chance to say much. Ma talks enough for both of them. What never ceases to amaze me is how he still calls her “Precious” after all these years even if that is her family nickname. If I were married to her I’d be calling her PITA, for Pain in the Ass.”

  “Gino, that’s not a nice way to talk about our mother.” He was right though, and Isabella admitted to herself if she’d thought of the term first, she’d have said the same thing or worse. She loved her mother, but there were times, especially when she got on the grandchild kick, trading her for anyone else seemed like a good idea.

  “Here they are. My favorite niece and nephew.”

  Well, maybe not just anyone else.

  Isabella smiled weakly at her brother as Aunt Rose, the wife of Angela’s youngest brother Tony, swooped down on them, giving kisses and pinching cheeks, like they were still five year olds.

  Done with greeting Gino, Aunt Rose turned her round body to face Isabella. “So, you find yourself a husband, yet?”

  “No, Aunt Rose. Can’t say I have.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw her brother’s attempt to ease away brought to a halt. One of the claws Aunt Rose called hands clamped around his wrist. The woman’s fingernails were a good two inches long. How she accomplished housework was one of the great mysteries Gino and Isabella spent hours discussing as children, but admitted her floors were so clean th
ey could have eaten off them.

  “You need to let me fix you up with my butcher’s son.” Rose never gave up in her efforts to fix-up her niece.

  “You mean Tony Ramboni?” No way in hell would that happen. Isabella knew ‘the Octopus’ only too well from high school.

  “Anthony. He’s called Anthony now. His father’s ready to retire and Anthony is going to take over the butcher shop so the business stays in the family.” Rose smiled.

  “I’m happy for Anthony and his father, but the answer’s still no.” Anthony, Tony, or whatever he called himself these days was definitely in the right business.

  I doubt the slabs of meat he spends his day groping offer many complaints. Unlike the ones he received from the girls during our high school days.

  Isabella smiled at Aunt Rose. “He’d obviously made a good career choice, but Tony and me…not in the cards.”

  “Such a shame.” Rose shook her head. She turned her back on Isabella and focused her attention on Gino whose arm she still held in her grasp.

  “For you I have such a nice girl.” Rose relaxed her death grip, and her hand now lay on Gino’s shoulder.

  “Aunt Rose, I’m gay.”

  “Oh, pish-posh. You’ll grow outta it.” Like their mother, all the other women in the family consider Gino’s statements of being gay a phase he was going through.

  Isabella grinned and winked at her brother.

  Amazing the only one who doesn’t poo-poo his life-style announcement is Nonna Piccoli, and that’s probably because no one, not even Gino can muster the courage to tell her.

  “Now this girl, she’s new to the neighborhood so you can’t have the preconceived ideas like Miss High and Mighty,” Rose shot a dark look at Isabella, “does about the boys I try to fix her up with.”

  Isabella observed Gino’s eyes glaze over as he steeled himself for what was to come. She slipped away as Aunt Rose launched into the virtues of her latest discovery for her dear nephew. True she did feel a little guilty, but that dissipated when she recalled he’d tried to disappear when their mother had her on the spit.

  She’d just finished the snack she snagged and wiped the crumbs from her mouth when she heard another voice that made her groan.

  “I must be living right. My favorite weather forecaster is here.” Jimmy Congnomi tried to plant a kiss on Isabella’s lips, but quick action on her part only got him a cheek.

  “Hello, Uncle Jimmy.” Isabella pushed his hand from her ass. She never understood how her father considered this man one of his best friends. Maybe Jimmy stood a better chance for a score with the women in his age group if he tried a couple of those new-fangled ideas. He needed figure out taking a shower and washing his hair was popular with females these days. The man oozed oil from the pores on his face and his hair always looked like it’d been dipped in olive oil, plus he emitted an odor she couldn’t identify. Combined with his playing grab-ass since she turned eighteen, being alone with him became a challenge she never allowed to happen. She counted her blessings once again that this man wasn’t really a blood relative.

  “What? You don’t sound too happy to see your old Uncle Jimmy. You getting too big for your britches with all the awards you’re winning down at that television station?”

  “Thank you for noticing the awards.” Isabella slipped out of the grasp he had on her waist.

  “Who couldn’t help but notice the way your father goes on about them? You’d think he was proud of you or something.” Jimmy’s grin showed off his tobacco stained teeth.

  “Oh no.” Isabella raised hand to her mouth and widened her eyes in a look of dismay. “Uncle Jimmy I forgot. Pop was looking for you earlier. Did you connect with him?” Jimmy looked around the room for her father. “I think he may be in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, kiddo. I’ll go see what he wants.” Jimmy tried to steal another kiss but Isabella dropped her napkin and bent down to retrieve it in an avoidance maneuver.

  Glancing at her watch, she groaned. She’d been here less than an hour, but it felt like an eternity. Another scan of the room and her gaze landed on the one thing Isabella feared most. There were a lot of things that annoyed her, a few she didn’t care for, and some she tried to avoid. But only one really terrified her. Grandma Pia Piccoli.

  Isabella’s ears still rung from the childhood boxing they received when she told her grandmother this was America and she should learn to speak English. The old woman continued to insist she be addressed in Italian.

  No doubt about it, Nonna Piccoli was one tough cookie. Even her five sons trembled when she erupted with one of her infamous temper tantrums. The only one who seldom received her ire was Assai, her baby daughter and Isabella’s mother. Angela’s older brothers translated their sister’s nickname into English and now all the family, including Isabella’s father called her Precious.

  Everyone, that is, but Nonna. Angela was still her little Assai.

  Well, may as well go and greet the old witch, Isabella decided. No way to avoid it. Her mother would have a cow if she didn’t speak to grandma.

  “Ciao, Nonna.” Someday I’ll learn more than limited Italian so I can have a real conversation with her…okay, probably not.

  “Ciao, Bella. What’s a madda you. You eyes, they red.” The old woman focused her beady stare on Isabella, dissecting her inch by inch.

  Just like the crone to notice the lingering effects of Friday night’s partying. “Nothing, Nonna. I’m fine.”

  “You still on the telabision?”

  “Yes, Nonna.” Man this conversation was going no place fast. Thank heavens her mother burst through the kitchen door singing off key; carrying a birthday cake containing so many candles Isabella was sure a fire permit was required to light them.

  Everyone in the room joined in singing Happy Birthday to Uncle Bruno, who sat at the head of the dining room table like a king waiting to receive his subjects. Once the candles were extinguished and the cake distributed, the old man attacked the mountain of gifts. Isabella wasn’t sure what to get him so she’d picked up a gift card for his favorite bakery.

  Gino appeared by her side. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure, what’s up?” Her brother’s face bore more emotion than usual. A blank expression was a requirement for his job and he’d become adept at keeping one in place.

  “Not here, private.” He took her hand and started working their way through the mob of relatives.

  They slipped down the hallway to his old bedroom which Angela turned into what she now called her private retreat. Gino sat down in a delicate chair and Isabella held her breath in hopes it didn’t collapse under his weight.

  She selected the recliner her mother used for watching her soap operas and taking cat naps. “Are you going to keep me sitting here in suspense or tell me what’s on your mind?”

  Gino crossed his knees and bounced his foot up and down. After staring at his bobbing brown loafer for a couple of minutes he looked at his sister. “You know Anthony, the one Aunt Rose was trying to set you up with.”

  “Well, yeah. I went to high school with him.”

  Uncrossing his legs and fidgeting in the chair until the chair creaked in protest, Gino got up and moved to the window, twisting the blind cord around his fingers. “Oh yeah, I forgot you were a year ahead of me. Well, you see, it’s like this.” He paused to clear his throat. “We’ve been seeing each other for the past three months or so.”

  “What? Oh. My. God. You’re telling me The Octopus is gay.” Isabella burst into giggles. Wiping the tears from her eyes she started to speak and another roar of laughter escaped instead.

  “Yeah. He sorta was back in high school, too. He, ahem,” Gino cleared his throat. “He was my first, and I was his.”

  “Holy shit. There is no way. You mean you lost your virginity to that creep.” Isabella was dumb founded.

  “Oh, he wasn’t so bad. Just confused, like me, about the whole sexuality thing.” Gino turned beet red. “We only did it the one time, an
d then we both tried girls. He lasted with them longer than me.” Gino turned to stare out the window again.

  “You see, we ran into each other a few months back when I went to collect a little debt owed to Joey from this guy who hangs out at the same bar Anthony frequents. We started talking, and one thing led to another and…well, things are to the point he says he’s ready to come out of the closet if I’ll move in with him.”

  “Oh, I see.” Isabella was at a loss on what to say beyond that comment. Her brother needed her support and she searched to come up with something to help.

  “How do you feel about him? Are you ready to make a commitment, and what if the living arrangement doesn’t work out? Will he hold coming out of the closet against you?” She could envision the scene if the relationship failed.

  “That’s part of the problem. I like him, but I’m not in love with him. To be honest, the passion for me has stated to fizzle.” He shrugged. “I’m trying to find a way to let him down easy.” Gino started to pace.

  “Stop.” Isabella stood in front of her brother to block the pacing. “You can’t be concerned about letting him down easy here. If you don’t want to make the same kind of commitment, you need to be honest with him.” Even a dirty little weasel like Anthony Ramboni didn’t deserve the repercussions of coming out of the closet about his sexual preferences and then being dumped.

  Gino placed his large hands on Isabella’s shoulder. “I know. I’ve been telling myself the same thing, but guess I needed to hear the words said by someone else. Especially my big sister.” He pulled her into an embrace and squeezed. “I’ve tried to get you alone since Aunt Rose brought his name up. The last thing I want is for you to get involved with him.”

  “Not to worry, little brother.” Isabella patted his cheek. “But do you need to give me a list of guys to avoid?”

  “Ha, ha. I think you’re safe except for Anthony.”

  “Good. You had me afraid dating was going to become even more complicated.” Dating the guys we grew up with was never high on my list any way, but that detail is on a need to know and little brother doesn’t need to know. “If you’re done with confession time we probably need to get back out and see how many more gray hairs we can give Ma.”