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Orange lipstick was hard to wipe away. And every time Jack managed to wipe it off, Nonna Silvia came out of nowhere and placed another kiss on his cheek. Jack guess it was okay, because Daddy had orange marks on his face as well, but Jack's friends never talked about all the hugs or the pinches to their faces or how grandmothers can leave marks on them.
Nonna Silvia was skinny with clawlike-hands and pale blue hair. Sometimes she spoke in English and other times in a language Jack didn’t understand but Dave did. “Italian,” his father explained later.
There were cookies and candies and cakes and ice cream and all sorts of things. Jack supposed they were payments for the kisses and the hugs and the pinches. It was overwhelming, so Jack stuck close by his Daddy because he figured out Nonna Silvia was less likely to kiss him if he had a hold of his Daddy’s hand.
It was weird. It was overwhelming. It was mystifying because Nonna Silvia declared, “I love you, Jackie Boy.”
Jack turned to his father and asked, “How can she love me if she doesn’t know me?”
Nonna Silvia was suddenly at his side. “Because, Jackie Boy, my Davey calls you his son. Therefore you are my grandson. And I love all my grandchildren, even the ones I just met.” She kissed his cheek again. “Now, go and tell your Papa Davey to get washed up for dinner.”
Jack nodded and started to go down the hall. He heard his Daddy say, “Thank you, Mrs. Rossi,” and wondered why his Daddy needed to say that.
/// Finis ///