The Australian Daughter In Law
October 2nd 2008 12:17
The Australian Daughter In Law
Like clockwork, Maryanna sat in her favorite armchair, under the porch of her brick home and sipping a sweet espresso coffee, watched the primary school children walk past, making their way home from the local school around the corner.
Once, not so long ago, she fancied herself in this regal position, waiting for her own grandchildren.
When her son married, her heart was a flutter with the anticipation of things to come.
She sipped her coffee.
What a fool she was, she thought to herself.
"Thought I'd find you out here. You know you're so predictable, mama," Roberto joked. "Cassandra should be home by now. Want to join us for dinner?"
Maryanna shook her head, averting her gaze as she lied to her son, "maybe next time. I need to do things tonight."
"I'm sure they can wait. Please, Cassandra's been asking after you."
"I bet she has," Maryanna muttered, then bit her lip but it was too late, her son heard it.
"What's going on?" Robert asked, sitting on the armrest of the chair and taking the coffee cup from his mother's hands. "You still angry that I didn't marry a good Italian girl?"
"No!" Maryanna said, shocked. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"
Robert folded his arms and glared at his mother.
And Maryanna felt so foolish. "I love you," she whispered. "And I like Cassandra. She makes you happy and she teaches me different things,"
"Keep going. And?"
"I like coming to your house. Cassandra lets me help her," Maryanna smiled but without realizing what was happening, a tear rolled down her cheek. Was it so bad? Was the hurt so deep. She turned her head, enough to wipe the offending tear before her son saw it. "I don't – maybe I don't help enough."
"What?"
"When I wash the dishes – maybe I don't wash them well enough, but they were always washed well for you and your father. I don't know how else to wash them – to help. Maybe if I don't come to your house – "
"You're upset because you don't think you're washing OUR dishes well enough?" Roberto asked, flabbergasted.
Now the tears fell, too quickly for her to cover them up. "Every time I wash them, Cassandra comes up to me and says lavili lavili – you know, wash them, wash them. I am so very sorry, but I do the best I can."
And she cried.
Robert stared at his mother; the tears, the wringing hands and burst into such laughter that made his sides hurt.
Anger replacing any sorrow she felt for herself, Maryanna wiped her face and stood up.
"Mama," Robert embraced his mother, planting a warm kiss on her forehead. "I love you so much mama. Cassandra was saying lovely – that you were doing such a lovely job."
"Your Cassandra kept telling me to wash them. Wash them, she'd say over and over again - lavili, lavili. How many times must I wash them?"
"Mama," Robert repeated, "lovely is an Australian word for beautiful," he explained. "Join us for dinner."
"lavili is Australian for beautiful."
"Yes," Robert chuckled, gently steering his mother to his car. "And tomorrow you can join Cassandra and I in looking for a dishwasher."
[ Text and original characters copyright © 2008 by Teresa Strati ]
Like clockwork, Maryanna sat in her favorite armchair, under the porch of her brick home and sipping a sweet espresso coffee, watched the primary school children walk past, making their way home from the local school around the corner.
Once, not so long ago, she fancied herself in this regal position, waiting for her own grandchildren.
When her son married, her heart was a flutter with the anticipation of things to come.
She sipped her coffee.
What a fool she was, she thought to herself.
"Thought I'd find you out here. You know you're so predictable, mama," Roberto joked. "Cassandra should be home by now. Want to join us for dinner?"
Maryanna shook her head, averting her gaze as she lied to her son, "maybe next time. I need to do things tonight."
"I'm sure they can wait. Please, Cassandra's been asking after you."
"I bet she has," Maryanna muttered, then bit her lip but it was too late, her son heard it.
"What's going on?" Robert asked, sitting on the armrest of the chair and taking the coffee cup from his mother's hands. "You still angry that I didn't marry a good Italian girl?"
"No!" Maryanna said, shocked. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"
Robert folded his arms and glared at his mother.
And Maryanna felt so foolish. "I love you," she whispered. "And I like Cassandra. She makes you happy and she teaches me different things,"
"Keep going. And?"
"I like coming to your house. Cassandra lets me help her," Maryanna smiled but without realizing what was happening, a tear rolled down her cheek. Was it so bad? Was the hurt so deep. She turned her head, enough to wipe the offending tear before her son saw it. "I don't – maybe I don't help enough."
"What?"
"When I wash the dishes – maybe I don't wash them well enough, but they were always washed well for you and your father. I don't know how else to wash them – to help. Maybe if I don't come to your house – "
"You're upset because you don't think you're washing OUR dishes well enough?" Roberto asked, flabbergasted.
Now the tears fell, too quickly for her to cover them up. "Every time I wash them, Cassandra comes up to me and says lavili lavili – you know, wash them, wash them. I am so very sorry, but I do the best I can."
And she cried.
Robert stared at his mother; the tears, the wringing hands and burst into such laughter that made his sides hurt.
Anger replacing any sorrow she felt for herself, Maryanna wiped her face and stood up.
"Mama," Robert embraced his mother, planting a warm kiss on her forehead. "I love you so much mama. Cassandra was saying lovely – that you were doing such a lovely job."
"Your Cassandra kept telling me to wash them. Wash them, she'd say over and over again - lavili, lavili. How many times must I wash them?"
"Mama," Robert repeated, "lovely is an Australian word for beautiful," he explained. "Join us for dinner."
"lavili is Australian for beautiful."
"Yes," Robert chuckled, gently steering his mother to his car. "And tomorrow you can join Cassandra and I in looking for a dishwasher."
[ Text and original characters copyright © 2008 by Teresa Strati ]
| 37 |
| Vote |
Shared on
Subscribe to this blog
