Un incontro con nonna

"Tradition is a guide and not a jailer."

-W. Somerset Maughan.

"Tradition is the illusion of permanence."

-Woody Allen.

"Tradition is not the worship of ashes but the preservation of fire."

-Gustar Mahler.

The song suggestion for this chapter is kiss and makeup by Dua lipa.

I will be dedicating this chapter to Wattpad BlackPearl_4044 Grail90 Agathi_bw oa_judith PS_Jaeee

Enjoy and vote.

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His tousled dark brown hair swayed in the direction of the cool breeze as he concentrated on the road.

His face is strong and defined, his features moulded from granite. His dark brown eyebrows sloped downwards in a serious expression. His usually playful smirk has drowned into a hard line across his face. His strong hands though slightly rough from sports, held the steering wheel tightly as he manoeuvred his way through the busy road of New york. As he navigated towards my house.

His muscles flexed whenever he turned the steering wheel and a little tattoo peeked from beneath his arms that were previously covered in the denim jacket draped over my shoulders. It is a compass tattoo that has the labelling of north, east, west and south.

He saw the shock register on my face before I could hide it. A small smile played on his lips as he threw a few glances my way.

"Do you like what you see?" His regular smirk surfaced with a mocking glint in his eyes.

"Excuse me?" I raised my eyebrows feigning confusion.

"Are you done checking me out baby doll?"

My head jerked up. "Of course not, you are not so appealing to stare at." I blurted out with a roll of my eyes.

"Say that one more time and I will drop you in the middle of the sea." He threatened in a bid to stroke his ego while I released a peal of low laughter.

"Besides, how did you know I was staring if you weren't equally checking me out." I pouted watching him as his smile grew bigger.

"Fine!" He grabbed my hand with his free hand and kissed it. "I was checking you out through the mirror."

"Then we are both guilty. You stare at the tomboy, I stared at the bad boy." I inclined my head and leaned back on the chair while staring at the blurry buildings we passed. I am closer to my house.

"You don't like tattoos, do you?" He asked without all concentration on the road.

"Not really, I feel like tattoos are for bad boys, hoodlums, drug addicts and gangsters."

"Well, I'm a bad boy so it is okay for me to have a tattoo. But why don't you look at it from another angle? It is beauty, it depicts artwork and sometimes, they might have an attached symbol that reminds you of something or somebody."

"Well, you have a point so who am I to judge? Anyone who is constitutionally an adult has the right to do what they feel is right." I concluded.

We left the ice cream parlour at six pm and bid the others bye. Mike managed to get a huge bump on his forehead and only God knows who gave it to him on a silver platter.

Ralph requested to drop me off at home and here I am, perceiving home sweet home. I need to freshen up and sleep, I'm so tired. But in the meantime, I decided to learn more about Ralph.

"So, where are you from?" I blurted out, still staring at the window.

"Here and there."

I raised my brows in disbelief while he grinned. I let it slide and decide to try again.

"What do you do aside from being an asshole?"

His mouth quirked with humour as he chuckled at my tone. "This and that."

I cracked my knuckles so hard and groaned in disappointment. He definitely does know how to get to me, doesn't he?

For a brief second, I let the silence pass with the cold wind as I thought of nine hundred and ninety-nine ways to murder him in cold blood.

"Are you mad? You look mad." He asked.

"I'm not mad," I whispered and continued boiling in anger.

"Your face is screwed, you look mad." He argued.

I said nothing and watched him drive into my estate.

"You still look mad." He blurted out.

"I'm not mad! But I will be soon." I hollered and struggled to get out of the car at the first glance of my house.

He locked the car and refused to let me out.

"Ralph, let me go," I warned with my eyebrows scrunched up and my hands up in defence.

"Not until you dissolve your anger." He unbuckled his seat belt and moved closer to me.

My heart hammered fast, my pulses were racing and my hands trembled. I have to breathe deeply and relax or I'll pass out. I have never found myself In an enclosed space with Ralph and my heart just can't stop beating hard and furiously. I swallowed my fear and tried to appear neutral. I could feel sweat forming on my forehead, and a fat one tickled on my nape.

"I'm not mad." I squealed and fake smiled so brightly. "Can I go now?"

"Not without a kiss on my cheek." He declared with an amused smile as he watched my every moment.

"Ha-ha, very funny." I let out a sarcastic laugh while he stared on in amusement.

"I'm serious Anna."

My eyes almost fell from their socket as I struggled to take deep breaths.

"What?" I gasped while he leaned closer to me, making me inhale his masculine scent. Fresh, clean, and beautiful. My body began to feel hot all of a sudden.

"Do it." He commanded and tilted his face for me to plant the kiss. My hands fidgeted.

I leaned closer and kissed his cheek softly. I tried to retreat to my previous position when he held me in a still position. It is getting dark and the stars are beginning to pop out in all their glory.

He arched his face towards my lips and his breath fanned my face. Just as he was about to kiss me, he changed his mind and muttered. "goodnight."

With disappointment and sadness, I left his car without looking back and hurriedly entered my mansion.

___

The maids collected my jacket. And another collected my bag. I mumbled thanks in return and went towards mom to kiss her cheek.

Dad held out his arms and pulled me into a hug.

"I almost thought you weren't coming home tonight." A voice hollered in the dark while I stared on in stupefaction.

"Surprise!" Mom yelled excitedly, clapping her hands.

A bulb was switched on and the light highlighted the contour of my grandmother that sat at the dining table, eating her usual cake and tea.

My eyes lit up in surprise, elation and happiness as I ran towards her to give her my bone-crushing hug.

"Nonna." I cried and happiness overwhelmed me.

"Ah! Delicatamente!" Her eyes gleamed.

"Gently!" She smiled and released herself. "You will crush my fragile bones." She squirmed and placed her tender palm on my face.

"Sweet Jesus!" She exclaimed twirling me around. "Sei cresciuto splendida bella giovane donna zucca."

"You have grown into a gorgeous beautiful young lady, pumpkin." A rush of intense emotions overwhelmed us as we tried to study each other. The last time I saw her was Two? Three? Or maybe five years ago.

"Vieni Dalla nonna." She pulled me into another delicate hug as she broke down in happy tears. "Come to granny."

And here she is in full flesh. No more endless video calls where we try to see ourselves. My dearest grandmother Abigail, loud and beautiful, laughing in her rich native Italian accent as if she was a child. Her wrinkles were the map of her soul, made all the more intricate by the sweet paths she had danced since her birth.

Grandmother Abigail is father's mother. She is a native Italian. She got married to an American and produced half Americans and half Italians. She is my closest confidant, best friend, and my favourite person.

I always felt she was the definition of simplicity and happiness. I always felt it was who she truly was, that joy, that sound that tickled everyone else inside until they smiled wide and true.

"Versami il tè signorina." She commanded that I poured her tea.

I hurriedly dragged a chair and sat beside her. "Nonna?" I called after filling her mug.

"Hm!" She hummed while she slurped her tea loudly. The smell of strong green herbal tea with orchids in it hit me in the nostrils.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Why? You don't like my surprise?" Her green eyes stared at me blankly waiting for a response.

"What? Of course, I do." I squeezed her palms while she smiled. "But there has to be another reason?" I stared at her simple knee-length gown that has Italian print sewn into it delicately. "Right?" I raised my brows waiting for a response while she ate another mouthful of cake.

"Your parents twentieth anniversary is coming up next week." She started. "Wouldn't I be a bad mother if I don't attend?" She answered my question with another question while she finger-combed her white bob hair with wrinkled fingers.

I forgot my parents anniversary will be coming up soon. The two love birds have stayed together for that long and have successfully built a strong foundation of love, peace, harmony, trust, and happiness. They never fail to declare their feelings publicly or show affection to each other. They are the modern Romeo and Juliet in our present-day generation.

"Why is the living room so bland with no Italian sculptures, prints or artefacts to acknowledge your tradition?" Granny asked dad who coughed because we caught him kissing his wife in a corner.

"We thought they are not necessary for the house." Mom answered with her face red in embarrassment as she tried to hide her cheek by rubbing it repeatedly with her hands.

"Just because you live in America isn't enough reason to neglect your culture." Granny frowned. "I'm sure you hardly speak your native language and most people don't know you have Italian blood in you." She gave a sharp look of disapproval.

"Ma madre-" dad started but was interrupted by grandmother.

"You don't need to explain yourselves, I just feel you shouldn't disregard your roots, your culture." She turned towards a black bag that sat beside her and began removing artefacts and prints from them.

Amalfi coast fine art framed print was boldly inscribed in an Italian summer wall decor with Positano beach as its theme. Dad took it and hung it on the wall.

Another print that has a huge silver fork with pasta draped around it with a red background graced the table. Vintage Italian pasta retro food and drinks were written on it in italics.

"Wow! Beautiful." Mom exclaimed, picked it up and headed to the kitchen with it.

She finally zipped her bag after bringing out a sculpture that looks like the city of Morgantina on the island of Sicily with a centre of Mediterranean power and beauty.

"Lovely!" I gasped and picked it up to examine it. I clutched it tightly and stared at the originality of the sculpture. "Artists are important for beauty to reign." I sniffed the piece and savoured its raw scent.

"Oggetto di Bellezza." Granny smiled.

"Indeed it is an object of beauty." I picked it up and hung it on the wall.

"It is called, goddess of Morgantina." She snapped her finger at me and winked.

"I think it is about time we bring back our tradition." Mom walked out of the kitchen.

"Storytelling, sitting around the warm crackle of a fireplace as well lean into one another, listening to tales of historical tradition under a blanket with trays of cakes and mugs of coffee passed around amidst curls of aromatic smoke isn't what anyone should miss tonight." Nonna Abigail declared.

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~~who is ready for some bedtime story because I have secured my spot on the couch~~

~~I hope you vote and comment~~