Page 32 of The Vow

“Um... nothing. They never wanted me, that’s all.”

“Oh, Madonna Mia. What kind of parents don’t speak to their own child? Stronzi, that’s what!”

Both me and Alex were fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot, like a couple of kids who’d been caught stealing from their father’s liquor cabinet.

“What’s stronzi mean?” Alex whispered.

“She’s saying they’re assholes. Sorry. Ma shouldn’t say that,” I whispered back.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“They’re not Italian, are they?” Ma asked.

“No, our bloodline is Scottish.”

“Aspetta. Wait. Is this the girl you were telling me about, Pippo?”

There was no point in lying. “Yes.”

Ma stopped what she was doing, walked over to Alex, and held both her hands. “Give me something, Alessandra. Anything. Do you have an Italian aunt? Uncle?”

Alex thought for a moment. “I like Tony Bennet!”

“Meh... it’s a start. What else?”

“I thought The Godfather was a great film.”

It was probably my mother’s least favorite movie. She said it perpetuated the notion that all Italians are in the mob. To prove her disdain for the film, she pretended to spit on the floor. “I spit on The Godfather!”

“Um... Pizza! I love pizza.”

“Not with pineapple, I hope. If you want a sweet and savory pizza, you use figs and prosciutto. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And none of this Shake ‘n Bake garbage. I tried it once and my grandmother cried from heaven.”

I remembered that night as one of my favorites. Ma let me shake the bag. I prayed she wouldn’t open the cupboard and see the canned ravioli.

“No, ma’am. I would never.”

My mother was scrutinizing Alex like a judge would for the Miss Universe pageant. Later, she’ll be on the phone with all our friends and relatives to tell them what a lousy son I am. They, in turn, will remind my mother of all my wonderful qualities until eventually, the noise will die down, and we could yet again avert World War III.

“What’s this?” Ma held up one of Alex’s hands. “Why is your nail white? Are you sick? Are you bringing diseases into my son’s home!?”

“It’s Liquid Paper,” I said.

“What’s Liquid Paper?”

“Like nail polish,” I said, not bothering to explain.

“Oh. Well, don’t worry about your parents, child,” ma said, focusing on Alex. “When you have kids, they will want to know them. All parents can’t wait to be grandparents.”

“I don’t want kids.”

“Shhhh!” Ma pressed her fingers on Alex’s lips. “God will hear you, and punish you, and not give you babies!”

“But I don’t want any.”