Full of Grace Read Online Free PDF Page A

unnoticed.
    Well, it could have been worse, I thought. Al could’ve chosen little boys pee-peeing or giant frogs. Or a great row of cement dolphins, leaping in unison, spewing water from their jaws, underlit by a color wheel. The possibilities for worse taste were infinite. But for the statuary and the turbo-Catholic grotto dedicated to the Virgin Mary that lurked around the corner of the house by my grandmother’s patio, this was a beautiful place. Really beautiful. Oh, the front-yard walkway situation was a mess, but that would be remedied immediately after the holiday. Over dinner my father promised my mother he would take care of it.
    We gathered at the dining table, all eyes focused on the platters loaded with cold antipasto and clams oreganata, and the fresh tomatoes and basil from Nonna’s garden. The breadbasket was being passed from plate to plate with small bowls of olive oil for dipping. Dad poured a wonderful Gavi di Gavi in small measures for the adults.
    “I’ve been saving this one for a special occasion,” he said, and everyone accepted that pronouncement had a probability that was perhaps partial truth. Maybe he had only been saving it since yesterday when someone from the Piggly Wiggly recommended it to him, but that would have been good enough to save Al from the venial sin of a lie. Spared a decade in the flames of purgatory on a technicality.
    Connie poured Orangina soda for the children and everyone couldn’t wait to eat. Al blessed the food while Frank’s offspring squirmed and snickered at his long-winded thanks for the presence of each person, their health, their long life and their worldly possessions. Nonna shot the kids the evil eye to behave themselves, to which Regina responded with a backup evil eye.
    “Buon appetito!” Al said, raising his glass.
    The first official meal of the holiday weekend was under way.
    “We’re eating light tonight,” Connie said, “because the barbecue tomorrow is pretty…well, it’s a lot of food.”
    Light? The table struggled to remain upright.
    After the antipasto was gobbled up and the platters cleared, Nonna and Mom served steaming bowls of pasta with shrimp in Nonna’s gravy and another baguette was sliced and passed around. The adults were now on their third bottle of Gavi di Gavi, and between the sun exposure and the alcohol, our tongues loosened.
    “So where is what’s his name this weekend?” Dad asked me.
    “He’s visiting his mother,” I said.
    “Yeah, she’s in a nursing home,” Nicky said.
    The table fell silent at the mention of a nursing home.
    Nonna, who could barely contain or swallow the food in her mouth, threw her arms in the air and cried out, “Madre Dio!”
    “Thanks a lot, asshole,” I whispered to Nicky.
    “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for her being in a home,” Regina said.
    “She’s has very advanced Alzheimer’s,” I said. “It’s so sad and very difficult for Michael to see his mother that way.”
    “Is that all?” Nonna said. “A little Alzheimer’s? Next thing I’ll forget where my purse is put and everybody’s gonna say that I’ve got this Alzheimer’s! Spend the rest of my life in a nursing home? Is that what you want?”
    “And she’s a severe diabetic, completely blind, and don’t ever say I said this, but she’s incontinent. Very incontinent,” I said. “I mean, Michael can’t take care of her, right?”
    I looked around the table for a little support. Nicky was staring at Al, who was staring at Connie, who was staring at Frank and Regina.
    Marianne, in her continuing campaign for brownie points, spoke up. “I could never put my mother in a nursing home, no matter what .”
    I considered slapping Marianne’s teeth out and just getting it over with. No, something stronger, like a tragic farm accident—Marianne needed a tragic farm accident…a swan dive into a threshing machine or something like that.
    “That’s very easy for you to say, Marianne,” Regina