Brava, Valentine

Mom leans back in her chair, relieved. “He did spend twenty-three years on Wall Street. Every day you pick up the paper and some other muckety-muck is on his way to the slammer for things he was unaware he was doing. The financial world is so complex.”

“Then what in God’s name did you do?” Feen barks at Alfred.

“He had an affair!” Pamela shouts. “An affair. He cheated on me. Happy Holiday, everybody!”

“Pam…,” my sister Tess says quietly.

“Don’t Pam me. I’m Clackety-Cluck-remember?”

“Clickety-Click,” Jaclyn corrects her.

“Whatever. Feel free to call me anything you want because I’m outta here! You made me feel like the outsider all these years, and guess what? It was true. I was different. I was normal-and you, you’re all crazy! I knew you were a pack of loonies before I married him, but it’s only gotten worse. And I only put up with you quirky bastards because I loved your son. But your son has decided he doesn’t love me anymore. He went out whoring around-”

Alfred leaps to his feet. “That’s not true, Pam. I love you.”

“Words! Words! That’s all you got for me? They got a million of those in the dictionary!”

Dad nods. “True, true.”

Pamela runs her hands down the sides of her body, from her bust to her waist and down to her hips. “Alfred. Look at me,” she commands.

Alfred looks down at the table; his head hangs in shame.

Pam lowers her voice to a growl. “I said. Look. At. Me.”

Alfred looks up at Pamela, his eyes filled with tears.

“I kept the deal. I am the girl you married. I didn’t change. I didn’t gain fifteen pounds, then lose five and gain back twenty on that Je

My mother gasps.

“That’s right!” Pam shouts. “Lose the damn weight already!”

My mother, horrified, pulls her tummy in and sits up straight.

“Look at me. Size two December 1994 and size two November 2010. How many women can say that at forty-one years of age when they’ve given birth to babies with heads the size of bowling balls?”

“Sweet Jesus,” my father mutters.

“I got you all pegged. Each and every one of you. He cheats, but you all cheat! You all lie! You spread stories, you gossip-”

“We discuss things, yes, but-” my mother tries to defend herself.

“Ma, you’re the worst!” Pamela charges the table. “Everybody knows you tuck tags into dresses you’ve bought and wear them once and return them for a full refund!”

“Only once! I did that once!”

“It’s cheating, okay? It’s against the law!”

“It was a chartreuse gown, and it didn’t do a thing for me. But my back was against the wall, and I had to wear it.”

“And you.” Pamela points to me. “You’re a thief. Your neighbor, Mr. Matera, was dead for two years and you took his newspaper and read it every morning.”

“It was a glitch. I reported it to USA Today eventually.” My face burns hot with embarrassment.

“And you-” Pamela points to Tess. “Telling the ticket guy at Great Adventure that both of your children were under six, when they were seven and nine at the time. You made your own children crawl into the park on their knees to get in for free.”

“They wouldn’t honor my coupon,” Tess says in her own defense.

“It’s still cheating!” Pamela screeches.

“And you-” She points to Jaclyn. “You re-gift! That’s right. I gave you the Estée Lauder makeup kit for your birthday, and it wound up under the Christmas tree for Tess…from …you!”

“It was more her palette, not mine,” Jaclyn stutters. “I’m a winter, and she’s a summer…”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still cheating!”

“I was with you till the re-gift,” June says generously. “That’s just a skin tone thing.”

“Her point would be that we’re all si

“Yeah, Dad, that’s my point. And chew on this. I can’t believe I got mixed up with this bunch when I knew better. I saw all the signs, but I loved you so much, Alfred, I sucked it up and joined this lot of losers! Out of all the families in Queens, out of the millions of families, I marry into this one!”

“I take umbrage-” My mother raises her voice.

“Take the umbrage. Take it all. I’m done with you people.” Pamela paces back and forth behind the table like a prosecutor on Law & Order. “And you know what? Charlie and Tom feel the same way. That’s right, when you’re whispering about us, you got it: we’re talking about you! That’s right, the in-laws carp about you! Why do you think Tom is always going out for walks? Nobody likes fresh air that much! He can’t take you people! And Charlie? Tell ’em, Charlie. Tell them how you make up phony excuses about work so that you’re only forced to attend two major holidays a year!”

Tess turns to her husband. “Is that true?”

Charlie shrugs that it is.

“Well, then-” Tess explodes. “Guess what? Our next vacation destination is Buenos Aires! That’s right! We’re camping out with the South American side of the family!”

Charlie, embarrassed to be outed, reaches to put his arm around Tess. She lurches away from him.

“I’ve listened to you people complain for eighteen years, and I’m over it! If it wasn’t politics, it was religion. If it wasn’t RC Incorporated, it was your almighty gravy.” Pamela holds her hands tightly in fists and shouts. “I don’t care if you use garlic powder or real cloves in your gravy! It’s just sauce! Tomatoes and water! Eat it and shut up already! Stop complaining!”

“Who complains? I don’t hear any complaints,” Feen says.

Pamela ignores her and continues. “Thank God I didn’t let myself go! I wanted to-believe me. I wanted to wear Uggs and eat potato chips and watch The Real Housewives of South Bend, but I didn’t! I kept it all together! I hung on! It’s a damn good thing I kept my figure, because now I’m go

Gabriel is draped over the kitchen counter with his face propped in his hands as though he’s riveted to Night 3 of The Thorn Birds on TCM. Without taking his eyes off the theatrics, he dips a spoon into the bowl of ca

I read the crumpled e-mail silently to myself.

Dearest Alfred,

Our time was not now, our days were not our own, but our feelings were real. Never forget how much I love you. Happy Thanksgiving, dear Fredo, I will always be grateful for the time we had together. My love always, Kathleen

The laptop computer, open on the kitchen counter, rings once. Then again. Then a third time.

“It’s Gram on Skype,” I say.

“Close the lid!” my mother shouts, turning to Gabriel. “Close it!”

Gabriel turns as Gram’s face comes up on the screen. He snaps the screen shut, then takes the moppeen from his shoulder and wipes his brow.

“Let her hear! Let Gram hear it all! I got nothing to hide! I don’t care if the whole country of Italy knows I’ve been besmirched!” Pamela shouts.

“It’s not you.” Alfred tries to calm his wife down.

“I know it’s not me! It’s you. You’re one of them, even when you tried not to be. You’re just like them. You turned on me too.”

“Pamela…,” he says gently.

“She calls you Fredo.” Pamela pushes against Alfred’s chest as he holds her close. “I call you Fredo. I call you that.” She weeps as Alfred puts his arms around her. “Let me go. I want my boys. Where are they?”

“At the park,” Tess and Jaclyn say in unison.

Pamela breaks free of Alfred’s grip and turns to go.

“Pam, please sit down. Please don’t go.” My mother stands. “Maybe we can help.”