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The current show was what I’d call a soap opera, although I wasn’t sure if it was called the same thing here. The woman was dramatically crying, clutching the strand of pearls around her neck as she clearly begged for the very handsome man in front of her to stay. She’d reach out to him only to snatch her hand back and glare, then start up with the crying again.
Although I assumed she was distraught he was leaving, I couldn’t understand what was being said, so for all I knew, she could be cursing him out for having a small dick and not satisfying her in bed.
Mini started shouting from the small kitchen, and Andrei rose. “Dinner is ready. I hope you brought your appetite. My grandmother doesn’t get to cook like she used to, so she’s made a feast.”
I smiled and followed him into the dining area and felt my eyes widen at the spread on the table.
“Oh my,” I said low, my stomach growling at the sight and smells. Everything looked incredible and delicious. “She had to be cooking all day,” I added absently, embarrassed that it had come out of my mouth.
“Oh yes. She was very excited to prepare dinner.”
Mini gestured to the dishes and started rattling them off, which Andrei would then translate.
Sarmale—cabbage rolls. Mamaliga—polenta. Mici—grilled minced meat rolls, or something to that effect Andrei translated, as he wasn’t sure of the exact English translation. Cozonac—sweet bread. Papana?i, which looked like tiny donut holes with delicious cream and jam on top.
He went on to name five other dishes, more desserts, and I was so overwhelmed but incredibly hungry.
I was grateful, never having anyone—not even from my family—go to this kind of trouble. I thanked Mini many times, and her smile coupled with a chin lift right before she waved off my gratitude told me she was proud I was pleased.
We sat down and began to eat, and Mini started speaking, Andrei once again translating. She described each dish and a memory attached to it, and I found myself transfixed with the stories, wishing I had a fraction of the upbringing she had.
She and her family didn’t have much in the way of materialistic things, but what they did have was love and coming together as a unit over cooking and eating.
And to me, that sounded like heaven.
It was a far cry from my stiff, somewhat distant upbringing, where my modern-day parents were strict to the point they were cold at times. There hadn’t been wonderful dinners where we sat around the table and talked about our days. There weren’t memories attached to the dishes cooked or recipes passed down from other family members.
And wasn’t that just sad as hell?
We sat there and ate, an hour and a half passing yet it seemed like no time at all. Mini stood and started clearing off the table, and I tried to help. I went to pick up a plate, but Mini spoke fast, her tone very disapproving as she shooed me away. Andrei just shook his head and smirked, gesturing for us to head out into the living room.
“Set in her ways,” he said as if that was the key to everything.
She came out with coffees for us, then shuffled back into the kitchen. I felt bad I couldn’t be of more help, but it seemed as if it would be an offense to her, so I followed Andrei lead us to the couch where we sat down.
The conversation between Andrei and me was light, with him asking about my life in the States. I reciprocated by asking him about his life here in Romania. I was fascinated to learn how different things were, how much harder he had to work for the things that had come so easily for me. It was also very clear that the normal day occurrences and conveniences in my life… I clearly took for granted, because to Andrei, they seemed as though they were luxuries.
Mini came and joined us shortly after and stayed silent as she sipped her tea and listened to Andrei and me speak about easy, normal things. But then the silence descended upon us, and I could feel this weird thickness in the air. I knew Andrei felt it as well, because he shifted on the couch, seeming as if he was uncomfortable with whatever was being charged around us.
That’s when Mini started speaking, but not in her normal quick pace like I was accustomed to in this short time, but slow and steady, her eyes staring right at me as she continued to speak.
The way Mini spoke had a shiver racing up my spine, had goose bumps raised along my arms and legs. And the whole time, she stared right at me, looked right in my eyes, as if she were pleading with me, as if what she said was imperative.
“What is she saying?” I asked Andrei without breaking my focus on Mini. The older woman gestured toward the front door, presumably to the thick forest right outside. I didn’t know why or how I knew what she was referring to, why I felt so strongly about it, but it was as real as the air I inhaled deep into my lungs.
I heard—and felt—the rise and fall of Mini’s voice as she spoke, the tone and pitch of her words telling me she was explaining a story, telling a tale.
I glanced at Andrei, and he listened to his grandmother with this raptness on his face, as if he was hearing it for the first time as well. I glanced back at Mini, her old, wise eyes still on mine. Finally, she stilled, stopped, and leaned back, finishing her tea as she clearly waited for Andrei to translate whatever she just said.
I glanced at him, waiting expectantly.
He ran a hand over his jaw and shook his head.
“What did she say?” I asked with impatience, not meaning to sound that way, but feeling like I was at the edge of my seat, waiting for the finale of a story.
“She tells a story she heard when she was younger, about one of the wolves in the woods that frightens the villagers.”
Mini said something else, and for some reason, I knew she was saying, “Tell her all of it.”
