baby [h.s.]

thirty nine

[NOTE: italicized parts are in italian]

            The few days leading up to the holiday were hectic. My family refused to get over the fact that Harry spoke Italian. My aunts attempted to dissect every aspect of his life and our relationship. Needless to say, Harry did a good job of charming his way out of uncomfortable questions.

My mother only spoke to us occasionally. Each time Harry and I entered a room where a lot of the family sat, she would look away or whisper to one of my aunts. She wasn't a fan.

At Christmas Eve dinner, Harry and I were split. The women pulled me into the kitchen to prepare for dinner with them while Harry had a wine glass placed into his hand and was shoved into the living room with the men. I had always resented the traditional sexism.

We cooked a pasta dish, but I wasn't sure what. Nonna assigned me to cut the vegetables for the salad. We were all quite grumpy, as Nonno had insisted we fast all day to save our appetites for dinner. That was traditional for Italian families, of course, but that meant we were all hungry.

The kitchen was steamy. Voices yelled over each other in two different languages. My aunts tossed kitchen tools to each other. They demanded taste tests. Classic Christmas tunes softly played from the radio on the windowsill. I sat at the wooden table with my cutting board, slicing through tomatoes.

After a few minutes, my mother took a seat beside me. I looked up from my slicing and raised an eyebrow, and then I looked back down to continue.

"I'd like to have a word with you." she said.

"Yeah?" I said. "What's that?"

"I don't know what you said to your Nonno for him to allow that boy-"

"I told him that I'd like to bring someone to the holiday, and he agreed." I said.

"Whatever," she said. "But I don't think it's appropriate that he's here."

"Good thing I didn't ask what you thought then, yeah?"

"Matilda."

I looked up and set the knife down. "Mum, you told me the family wanted me here. I was not going to get through this holiday without him, nor was I going to leave him alone in London. Harry has been there for me for months now. He means a lot to me. I don't care what you think of him or of our relationship. He's sticking around."

"Dinner's about ready. Matilda, make sure the children have set the table and the men are ready." Nonna said. She pointed at my mother. "Mix the salad."

Without another word, I left the kitchen. The children danced around the table. The laughed and sang songs. They had already set the table.

I drifted into the living room, where the men argued over memories, but still laughed. The room bubbled with laughter and warmth.

"Dinner's ready. Let's eat." I said, over the chatter. Harry looked at me and smiled. I leaned against the doorway as the other men walked through and he was the last. He grabbed my waist and kissed my cheek, then pulled me through the doorway with him.

People settled into chairs at the long wooden table. They yelled over each other and shoved dishes in the middle. I sat next to Harry at the end opposite of my mother, beside Nonno. The steaming plates were passed around. Pasta and sauce where smacked onto plates. People yelled for the parmesan. Before we ate, though, we joined hands and said grace. It couldn't have been an Italian dinner without giving thanks for the meal.