way we don’t get on each other’s nerves. I like her a lot, but I like my space even more.”
“I miss Lisa like crazy. I want her back. I’ll do anything to make that happen.”
Bill’s lawyerly instincts came rushing to the fore-front. “Whoa, buddy! Don’t start talking like that, or she’ll have you by the balls before you know what hit you.”
“I don’t care. Lisa’s the only thing in this world that matters to me. I just wish I’d let her know that. She probably hates me now, probably thinks I’m as shallow as my parents.”
“It’s hard to know what a woman’s thinking, Alex. I find it’s easier not to even try. It’s just too damn frustrating. And being men, we usually end up guessing wrong anyway.”
Alex shrugged, wondering if his friend was right.
“The Eagles are playing the Washington Redskins tonight at nine. Let’s order in some Chinese and drown our sorrow in a few dozen beers while we watch the game. Things might be clearer in the morning when you’re not so tired.”
Alex nodded. He was tired and confused and hurt. And he had no answers for any of the unsettling questions that kept popping into his mind.
The only thing he knew for sure was that Lisa was gone, and he had to figure out a way to get her back. How he was going to do that, he wasn’t certain. He knew only that his future happiness depended on it.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you’re going to look for an apartment? You’re married. Have you forgotten? Married women live with their husbands. And they don’t live with other men, even if those men are fanooks.”
At times like this, Lisa wondered why she visited her mother. It was too early in the morning to be driven insane, and Josephine definitely made her crazy with her unwanted opinions and advice. But after her talk with Francie the previous evening, she’d had the strongest urge to see her mom.
Now, of course, she wished she had just taken an enema and gotten whatever it was out of her system.
Lisa gulped down the strong, black liquid that her mother tried to pass off as coffee and replied, “I told you, Mom, Alex and I are through. I’m not going to live with a man who doesn’t respect me and is tied to his mother’s apron strings. I didn’t know when I married Alex that I was marrying a mama’s boy.”
“How could you know? You barely knew the man.”
Lisa winced at the truth of her mother’s words.
“And so what if he shows respect? What’s wrong with that? A son should respect his mother. Look at your brother. Jack’s crazy about me. He’s a good boy, your brother.”
“First of all, Jack is a teenager and should still be tied to your apron strings. Alex, on the other hand, is a grown man—a grown married man. He should have cleaved to his wife, like the Bible says. Go ask Father Scaletti if you don’t believe me.”
Josephine was of the opinion that everything that came out of the parish priest’s mouth was gospel, so Lisa figured she might as well use it to bolster her case.
“For someone who rarely goes to church, it surprises me that you would know what the Bible says.” Josephine took her daughter’s hand, her tone softening.
“Why must you make everything so difficult, Lisa? You made vows with this man. Now you must try and work it out between you. Just because something isn’t perfect doesn’t mean you should throw it away.
“Marriage takes work. No one said it was easy. You think your father and I didn’t have our share of problems over the years? We did. But we stuck it out, for better or worse.”
Lisa heaved a dispirited sigh. “I knew you wouldn’t take my side, Mom. You never do. Now if it were Francie having the problem, things would be different. You always stand up for her.”
“Your sister uses her head before she rushes into things.”
“You mean before she rushes out of the church, don’t you? I hope you’re not forgetting the three failed wedding attempts you paid for before Mark Fielding came along to hog-tie and drag Francie to the altar.”
“I’m not saying your sister can’t be stubborn, but most of the time Francie listens, something you don’t do. You think you know everything.
“I tried to tell you that the kind of men you were dating were wrong for you. Who dates a female impersonator? Tell me that? But would you listen? And now that you’ve found a normal one, you want to get rid of him.” Exasperated, Josephine slapped her hand to her forehead.
“If you met his parents, you wouldn’t think Alex was normal.”
“I spoke to his mother on the phone, after you told us you had eloped. She’s a cold fish, that woman. I could tell right away. But I’m sure she loves her son the way I love you and wants him to be happy.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. Miriam wants Alex to be happy, just not with me. She doesn’t think I’m good enough for him, Ma. And his father feels the same way.”
Upon hearing that, Josephine let loose a string of curses, and then crossed herself to atone for her sin. “What is this woman, Mussolini, that she thinks my daughter isn’t good enough? I should call her up and give her a piece of my mind.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. Honey oozes out of Miriam Mackenzie’s sweet Southern belle mouth. She looks right at you and smiles, and then pushes a knife into your back. I’ve got so many holes I should be leaking like a sieve.”
From the start, Miriam had gone out of her way to cause trouble between Lisa and Alex. The woman was always bringing her son’s old girlfriends into the conversation, going on about how accomplished they were, how beautiful, how much Alex had adored them, trying to get a rise out of Lisa. She would probe for information about Lisa’s education, knowing her daughter-in-law had only a two-year degree from a junior college, or ask her about certain poets or composers in an attempt to make Lisa look stupid, which usually worked.
Lisa was up on her Aerosmith and Bono, but didn’t know a thing about Bach or Beethoven.
Crossing herself again for good measure, Josephine pondered her daughter’s comments, and then tried to reason with her. “I didn’t get along good with your father’s mother, either, before she died. God rest Carmela’s miserable soul. She was a nasty old woman, your grandmother. In fact, Carmela Morelli was so nasty that she made my mother, who’s no picnic, look like a saint.”
“I heard that!” Grandma Abrizzi shouted from the living room, making Lisa smile.
The elderly woman, who lived with Lisa’s parents, was a feisty old gal who said what she thought, shooting straight from the hip and rarely taking any prisoners.
Lisa liked to think she was a lot like her.
“But you didn’t marry Alex’s mother,” Josephine continued. “You married Alex. And I assume, since you went to so much trouble to marry him quickly and outside the sanctity of the church—” she kissed the gold cross hanging around her neck “—that you love this husband of yours.”
Not
