defending them from my aunt.
My zizi grumbles.
“What was that?” asks my Auntie Alicia. The second oldest sister of my Aunt Larissa.
Loud enough to be heard over the crowd, my zizi puts on a smile that makes me slightly nervous and announces to all, “I said, here come my sister’s children!”
All heads turn to the doors, and the heads of the people that are just coming in turn to meet them. There’s less of the later group, though, so they do a lot more turning. Bernoulli principle, or something like it. My zizi bustles over to them.
“Hello, dears, we’re all so excited you could drop by, even if it is so late. The food is out, please help yourselves. I wish you’d come earlier so you could’ve had it hot but oh well. Here, I’ll reheat some of the meat for you. Come with me.”
After stepping up to each of them to receive their kisses, she spins without delay. They trail her to the back, which I think shows good sense. It makes me think they haven’t come for trouble.
I look around to see what everyone else thinks. Most still watch them, their straight spines and hunched shoulders, the quick steps out of my zizi’s way. Again, good sense. As for my family, stares are muted, faces are impassive, and there are some well-monitored shifts of position that can’t really be called fidgeting for to the amount of planning and intention I’m positive are going into them.
The din builds again. Down our table, I notice my brother’s just taken a seat. I smile, so surprised to see him. He must have brought those guys here because he wanted to come see us. I clutch the sides of my chair to keep from bouncing.
My brother smiles and his eyes widen at me. I shrug one eyebrow, then take a prim sip of my water. He lifts his cup, raises both his eyebrows to the boy next to me, because he can’t do one at a time no matter how hard he tries, then sips as well.
Meanwhile, my Auntie Alicia swings her gaze over everyone at our table. Andrew doesn’t know that he should really be studying his bit of cheese right now, or perhaps examining the tablecloth like I am, so he’s the one that ends up being caught. I place my hand on his.
“Well. Isn’t that something.”
“Ah, I, uh, don’t understand. Are they relations of yours?”
“Oh, you could say that. They’re Zizi’s youngest sister’s kids. I can’t believe they showed up here. And so late, too. Thinking they can just pop over whenever. Their parents should have told them it was too late, but what can you expect. Their manners are different. Crusa, honey, I’m sure they’ll all be on their best behavior, and if not, someone will take care of it, so don’t you worry, sweetheart.”
“I’m not worried. I think they’re friends of Camillo’s,” I say.
“Yes, well,” I get one nod, one set of pressed lips, and a few brushes of her fingers on her lap. Next to her, my Uncle Stonington takes a bite of antipast. That was a hot pepper. I watch as he tears up and steals my Aunt Alicia’s cup of wine.
“They’re probably just curious, is all,” she says.
“It was generous of them to stop by. Pay their respects. I’m sure they brought a gift,” says a great uncle of mine as he shuffles behind us. I make a face like really? And he pats me on the cheek. I shrug at Andrew.
“I suppose,” says my Aunt Alicia.
I go to share a look with Milo, but I stop. My brother’s turned a deep red and is sitting very stiffly. Huh. What’s his problem. I check to see if Andrew’s done something to offend him, brotherly speaking, but the boy’s just sitting there. Doing a pretty decent job of not looking as baffled as he is.
“Of course,” my aunt goes on, “after all that’s happened lately, I thought none of them would want to come by. But, I guess not.” She shrugs and smiles.
“I would have thought the same, Alicia, if Angie’s son had
My zizi grumbles.
“What was that?” asks my Auntie Alicia. The second oldest sister of my Aunt Larissa.
Loud enough to be heard over the crowd, my zizi puts on a smile that makes me slightly nervous and announces to all, “I said, here come my sister’s children!”
All heads turn to the doors, and the heads of the people that are just coming in turn to meet them. There’s less of the later group, though, so they do a lot more turning. Bernoulli principle, or something like it. My zizi bustles over to them.
“Hello, dears, we’re all so excited you could drop by, even if it is so late. The food is out, please help yourselves. I wish you’d come earlier so you could’ve had it hot but oh well. Here, I’ll reheat some of the meat for you. Come with me.”
After stepping up to each of them to receive their kisses, she spins without delay. They trail her to the back, which I think shows good sense. It makes me think they haven’t come for trouble.
I look around to see what everyone else thinks. Most still watch them, their straight spines and hunched shoulders, the quick steps out of my zizi’s way. Again, good sense. As for my family, stares are muted, faces are impassive, and there are some well-monitored shifts of position that can’t really be called fidgeting for to the amount of planning and intention I’m positive are going into them.
The din builds again. Down our table, I notice my brother’s just taken a seat. I smile, so surprised to see him. He must have brought those guys here because he wanted to come see us. I clutch the sides of my chair to keep from bouncing.
My brother smiles and his eyes widen at me. I shrug one eyebrow, then take a prim sip of my water. He lifts his cup, raises both his eyebrows to the boy next to me, because he can’t do one at a time no matter how hard he tries, then sips as well.
Meanwhile, my Auntie Alicia swings her gaze over everyone at our table. Andrew doesn’t know that he should really be studying his bit of cheese right now, or perhaps examining the tablecloth like I am, so he’s the one that ends up being caught. I place my hand on his.
“Well. Isn’t that something.”
“Ah, I, uh, don’t understand. Are they relations of yours?”
“Oh, you could say that. They’re Zizi’s youngest sister’s kids. I can’t believe they showed up here. And so late, too. Thinking they can just pop over whenever. Their parents should have told them it was too late, but what can you expect. Their manners are different. Crusa, honey, I’m sure they’ll all be on their best behavior, and if not, someone will take care of it, so don’t you worry, sweetheart.”
“I’m not worried. I think they’re friends of Camillo’s,” I say.
“Yes, well,” I get one nod, one set of pressed lips, and a few brushes of her fingers on her lap. Next to her, my Uncle Stonington takes a bite of antipast. That was a hot pepper. I watch as he tears up and steals my Aunt Alicia’s cup of wine.
“They’re probably just curious, is all,” she says.
“It was generous of them to stop by. Pay their respects. I’m sure they brought a gift,” says a great uncle of mine as he shuffles behind us. I make a face like really? And he pats me on the cheek. I shrug at Andrew.
“I suppose,” says my Aunt Alicia.
I go to share a look with Milo, but I stop. My brother’s turned a deep red and is sitting very stiffly. Huh. What’s his problem. I check to see if Andrew’s done something to offend him, brotherly speaking, but the boy’s just sitting there. Doing a pretty decent job of not looking as baffled as he is.
“Of course,” my aunt goes on, “after all that’s happened lately, I thought none of them would want to come by. But, I guess not.” She shrugs and smiles.
“I would have thought the same, Alicia, if Angie’s son had
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