Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
A
re you fucking kidding me? I thought it but I didn’t say it. I’m 37 and have never let out an expletive more severe than ‘shit’ in front of my parents.
Dad looks like he’ll cry. Mum looks down and my brother plays with his cutlery.
I look over at my husband. He’s known for a week.
I’ve stopped breathing.
I grew up in an Italian family, the typical southern European migrant story that starts with grandparents arriving with their kids on a boat in the mid 50’s and 60 years later we’re still holding onto the home made sauce making, gesticulating and yelling most communications and one remaining Nonna that speaks no English. Just as well I speak two dialects as well as ‘proper’ Italian better than my 28 other cousins so ‘Nons’ and I can hang.
Chubby tears roll out of the corners of his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter dad.. I don’t care.. Dad, please..” I just want him to stop being upset and I want him to stop talking. I’m tearing at him tearing.
Mums knuckles are white as she strangles her luncheon serviette.
“No.. please, daughter.. let me finish…” – throat clear, deep breath, long exhale.
“We tried for a few years to have children after we got married. When we realised we just couldn’t, we applied to adopt and we got you. You were 6 weeks old and you made us the happiest people ever by coming to live with us.”
My dad puts his arm around mum and I see two frightened people terrified by their secret given breath.
“Who else knows about this?”
“Everyone. Everyone has always known… you can’t just turn up with a 6 week old baby…and..”
“Even cousins?”
“Yes darling – they’ve always known too… we all just never wanted you feel like an outsider.. you are part of us… no one has ever loved you less… in fact we..”
I loose the ability to absorb sentences but take in ‘she was 15’, ‘maybe Maltese’.
Everyone has always known…
I wait for the hidden camera crew to jump out or the anaesthetist to bring me back.
No one’s coming.