Making Hearts by Jack Getze

Author:Jack Getze
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Papi brought Mama home from the hospital in time for dinner. A setting sun threw red streaks across the sky as they parked in the driveway. A neighbor’s cat squawked in a winter-bare maple tree and Phillip, Emily and I cheered from the porch. The orthopedic surgeon had arrived earlier than scheduled, set Mama’s broken arm in forty minutes without titanium rods or general anesthesia, and proclaimed her prognosis excellent. A flesh-colored plastic cast wrapped Mama’s right forearm, wrist and part of her hand, but her thumb and the most extreme knuckles of her fingers protruded. She described herself as dizzy but glad to be home.

“Something smells awfully good,” Mama said.

Mama had entered the kitchen like a movie star with her entourage. The air was indeed filled with delicious aromas, a byproduct of some tuned up Italian cooking. Emily had prepared a spaghetti dinner using a jar of Mama’s frozen homemade tomato sauce, fresh meatballs, fresh garlic and two pounds of imported semolina pasta. After five months in the freezer, Mama’s sauce still tasted better than any local restaurant’s.

“Are you hungry?” Papi said.

Mama touched his cheek with her good hand. “Not so much, Papi, thanks. But I’d love to watch the rest of you eat.”

Phillip slid into a chair. Papi helped Mama, then sat next to her instead of his regular place opposite. Emily collected knives, forks, spoons, napkins and delivered them from kitchen drawer to our table. She also brought and set out three dinner plates, the dinnerware clicking on the wood. I enjoyed a great view from my sink-based bassinette.

“Mama may change her mind,” Papi said. “Bring her a plate, too, Emily. Please?”

“There’s one there for Mama,” Emily said. “I’m the one who’s not eating. I’m going out.”

“You are joking?” Papi said.

“No. I’m going to a school dance. Demyan’s picking me up in a few minutes. We made plans a week ago.”

“When will you eat?” Mama said.

“Demyan’s bringing sandwiches.”

Papi’s jaw worked. “You went out last night. Your mother has had her arm broken, has been through surgery and must now exist in a stiff and awkward cast. You surely do not expect Mama to take care of your baby tonight.”

“I know. That’s why I made dinner. I figured grandfather could help with his granddaughter tonight.”

“Because you made me dinner?”

Be nice if my family would use my actual name. You know, Noelle.

“Yeah. And because this is what Mama promised—that the two of you would act like Noelle’s parents. That I could live my life as a seventeen-year-old.”

Papi glanced at his wife. “That is what you promised?”

“I did?” Mama said.

“You know you did, Mama. You said you’d be her mother.”

“I am certain she did not make that promise after she broke her arm,” Papi said.

Mama stood and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “It doesn’t matter, Emily. You’re right. Your father and I will take care of Noelle tonight and every night if we have to. Every night for the rest of our lives. That’s what I wanted. What I asked for.

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