Mary hurried inside her parents’ house, left Grady in their living room, and made a beeline for the kitchen, which looked different from ever before. There was no food on the table, and nothing bubbled on the stovetop. Tony Bennett was silent, and there wasn’t even the sound of coffee percolating. The room was empty except for her mother, who sat slumped in her chair, her hand in her chin, her body a forlorn pile of flesh and spandex.
“Maria,” she said, her voice choked and quivery, and Mary rushed over, sat beside her, and hugged her tight, breathing in her faded perfume.
“It’s gonna be all right, Ma.”
“No, no.” Her mother looked over, her gaze red-rimmed behind her bifocals and her rookie mascara making dark quarter-moons under her eyes. “Fiorella come, and everyting go bad.”
“Ma, it can’t be. You and Pop love each other.”
“No, Maria. He no love me no more.” Emotion mottled her papery skin, and red tinged the tip of her nose. “He cheat!”
“How, Ma? What happened?”
“Your father, he kiss her, inna restaurant!” Her mother’s eyes brimmed with tears, but Mary couldn’t believe it was true.
“That’s impossible, Ma.”
“No, e vero.”
“How do you know?”
“Johnny, he works inna museum, he’s a grandson from the TV man down a block.” Her mother pressed a balled-up Kleenex to her nose. “Johnny, he call the TV man onna phone, and the TV man tell Camarr Millie, and she tell Camarr Franny, and she call me.”
Mary felt mortified for her. “What restaurant? What museum?”
“Non lo so, I dunno. He take Fiorella, inna city. Art museum. She want to go. Anywhere she want, he take her, alla time.”
“Kissed her?” Mary still couldn’t believe it. “It’s just a rumor, gossip. Pop would never kiss another woman, never.”
“No, no.” Her mother squeezed her hands together, squashing the Kleenex, and Mary hugged her closer.
“Ma, I’m sure there’s an explanation. Pop loves you. You have the best marriage ever. Everybody knows that.”
“No more, no more. Ever since operaysh…” Her mother’s voice trailed off, and Mary knew what she meant. Her “operaysh” was her operation. Her hysterectomy.
“Where is he?”
“Non lo so. He’s a suppose to come home for dinn’. He no come, he no call.”
Suddenly there was a commotion in the living room, and Mary heard the screen door slam closed, then her father talking to Grady.
She and her mother looked toward the living room.