Italian In the Kitchen

By Philip Lear

Lila, his wife's second cousin is talking to Joe on the phone telling him about her dad. Joe vaguely remembers meeting her once twenty years ago. “He was sick with Alzheimer's for ten years and finally died.” She says. “Even when he didn't know where he was or who he was he fought the good fight.”

Lila goes on for ten minutes explaining in detail what her father’s last days were like. Joe tries to imagine how a man in that semi-comatose state “fights the good fight”. But Joe is thinking about his coffee getting cold and how it never tastes the same when it’s reheated. He tries to be kind.

“I know how I felt when I lost my dad,” he tells her. “He died in 1987 and I still think about him. And I don’t think about how he was in those last days either. I remember how he was before that and still have warm memories. I know it’s hard for you now, but maybe some day when this is behind you you’ll remember your dad like that.”

She weeps a little and gives Joe directions to her house in Wanaque, the Funeral Home and the Cemetery. She hangs up.

Should he feel sad? Should he have some empathy or compassion for Lila? Most normal people probably would, but he doesn't. He’s agitated at the prospect of having to make a trip to a funeral in North Jersey and then out to Long Island for the burial and after that, of course, a trip back to north Jersey to the mourners' house to be with the relatives.

Tomorrow he was planning to run and then spend the balance of the day working on his new and long overdue book. Now I'll be running in a different way- all over creation. Joe was supposed to have ten chapters ready for June 1 and it's now September 1 and Jack, his publisher, is getting edgy. He can't blame Jack. But tomorrow was the day Joe was really going to buckle down.

The mail, which is normally delivered by noontime, still hasn't gotten there and it's now 3: 30. Last week when Joe spoke to his publisher he assured him that despite the delays a check for $5,000 was in the mail. Joe needs the money to keep going.

People think that writers are rich, and maybe some of them are, but he’s not. Joe’s had his first book published and a book tour and some signings but he’s not that well known. He goes out and checks the mailbox for the fourth time. The mail still hasn't arrived.

He turns on the TV and starts watching the Houston Atlanta game. He can't stand Atlanta. They always win, but today they're in a jam and Joe’s enjoying every minute. The bases are loaded and the Houston pitcher is batting. The count is three balls and one strike and Hampton, the Atlanta pitcher, throws ball four. The pitch is two feet outside and the ump calls it a strike. Then on the next pitch the pitcher strikes out and Atlanta escapes unscathed. He turns off the TV.

His wife, Sally, who has been out shopping, returns. She drops her keys on the table. “I bought out the store.”

The she shows him two beautiful silk blouses, slacks and a strapless bathing suit.

“I couldn’t believe anything was so cheap at Bloomies. Only $200 for the lot.” Sally’s a fortyish short brunette with beautiful brown eyes and translucent sepia skin and long black wet looking curls. He tells her about the call from Lila.

She says, “ You remember my second cousin Lila.”

He reminds her that he only met her once twenty years ago.

“We were very close growing up,” she says. “We'll have to go.”

Then as if that wasn't bad enough she reminds him about her aunt Doris's 80^th birthday party. It's a weekend affair up in the country. And what irks him most is that Sally was just up there last weekend. Joe points this out to her.

"I know, but this is special," she says.

He tells her that nobody on her side of the family other than her aunt gives a hoot about them and that he can't stand going up there. He reminds Sally that those relatives have broken dinner engagements, uninvited them to parties and talked about them behind their backs.

She agrees that they're obnoxious but then goes on to tell Joe that his son Victor and daughter Renee will be there. He doesn't get to see them very often. He knows Sally's trying to corner him but plays it cool.

Joe tells her, "Well then you'll have plenty of people to go with. "

"You mean you're not going?" She asks. He detects a slight touch of disappointment in her voice.

"I don't think so," he answers. “I have these chapters long overdue and Jack is starting to run out of patience.”

“Maybe you could do some writing up there,” she says. “You could sit by the lake and have all the peace in the world.”

“But you know I can only work in my study,” he answers. “And besides that with all your relatives up there it will be too noisy to think. They're the loudest humans on the planet. I don’t know how the fish survive in that lake.”

The other thing Joe doesn't like about her aunt or her oldest daughter Francine or cousin Hilda or her cousin's wife Sandra is that they have a low opinion of men. They're all very warped. And when Sally is with them she tends to act like them.

Sandra’s the worst. She’s is an absurd feminist. When she was down visiting Joe gave her daughter Hillary the Richard Scary children's book that he had read to his boys. It’s a remarkable treasure. The Book has the most beautiful detailed pictures Joe’s ever seen in a children's book. But Sandra thought the book was sexist. The drawings show men in the roles of firemen and policemen, not firewomen and policewomen. Joe explained to her that the book was written twenty-five years ago when there were no fire or policewomen. But Sandra felt her daughter Lucy would be damaged by being exposed to this. Joe tells her that he’s sure that this was the farthest thing from Scarry's mind when he illustrated the book and that if she doesn't let her daughter see the book she'll be depriving her of seeing Scarry's art. But in Sandra’s mind art must be politically correct.

Sally knows that he’s caught. If he goes he'll be miserable and if he stays at home he'll be desperately lonely. Joe loves Sally and knows she loves him. It's just that she has this insatiable need to be with her family, even if they're crude and obnoxious.

He'll end up going up there and listening to this for two days. When they leave Joe will swear that he won't do it again, but during the 25 years of their marriage he’s been burnt repeatedly.

Maybe he would be better off not going, he thinks. He could do many things without her. Like playing bridge, running, visiting some friends and of course, writing.

But there are little things Sally and he do together that he loves. There are those times when she fixes tuna sandwiches and they sit at the kitchen table eating them or when they go for walks in Worthington Park. They don't need to say much. It's just being with her that he likes. And if she goes away for that weekend and he decides to stay home he knows he’ll miss her.

The following morning Joe gets up at 8 AM and the first words out of Sally's mouth are, "I have to call Randy."

Randy's her brother. And he knows it's about the funeral. Joe anticipated the pressure to go to the funeral. He knows he'd feel bad if he doesn’t go, not because anyone died but because he'd miss spending the day with Sally. But he doesn't say anything and waits for her to say something. She calls Randy but doesn't get him. Time passes and after awhile Joe realizes she's not going and he feels relieved.

Sally makes pancakes with sliced strawberries and he brews the coffee. They sit having breakfast talking and sharing the Sunday Times. She's reading the book reviews and he’s reading the sports section.

It's 10:00 o'clock now and she's puttering around the kitchen taking her vitamins and he’s standing behind her. He pinches her ass softly.

"Italian in the kitchen, " he says.

She laughs, "Those Italians are everywhere."

He rubs his hand gently up her thigh.

"I'm going in to take a shower," she says.

"Want me to wash your back?” he answers.

She turns her head and gives Joe one of her mysterious looks and says, "No."

He lets her go. But then a few minutes later he slips into the shower behind her and she hands him the soap. He washes her back and works his way down to her ass and to the insides of her thighs. It's hard to describe her ass but it has a mystical quality. There's an unimaginable resilience about it and yet it's incredibly soft. Joe starts to get hard and she backs into him. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her on the neck. She turns around and kisses him. Joe soaps up her breasts and his hands glide down her body. They kiss again and then she starts to soap him up.

“Oh, Mr. Peter is very hard today,” she says. He likes when she talks about it in the third person.

"Would you like to shake hands with Mr. Peter?" He asks.

“Oh yes.” And she starts to stroke him.

"I think he likes that," he says.

She steps out of the shower and Joe follows. They towel each other off. They jump into bed and kiss deeply and make love. Afterwards they fall asleep.

When Joe awakes He’s calm. He turns on his side facing her and she gives him a kiss on the cheek. Joe puts his arms around her and she snuggles up to him. She strokes his shoulder and gives him a totally joyful look.

A few minutes pass and he say to her, “Hey you know that weekend thing at your aunt's.”

“Yes” she answers.

“Let's go. I'll make the reservations.”