Food, Family, and Dysfunction

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

About the Author

This book is dedicated to my parents. Thank you for sharing your love, incredible sense of humor, and passion for the literary arts.

A special thanks to my husband and our two children

for their endless love and support.

Thank you to my entire family

for encouraging me to realize my dream.

Thanks to Roseanna Giuliano-Lytle, Robin Graves,

and Vanessa Ball for your support and feedback.

CHAPTER 1

Ms. Azzerella, this is Jan Walker calling in regards to an injury your mother sustained this evening. I’ll be here until at least 10:00 p.m. and look forward to hearing back from you at your earliest convenience. Jan’s message has me a little shaky. I’m wondering what could possibly have happened at the nursing facility.

As I’m dialing the number, I’m led to wonder how Mom sustained an injury when my sister Gina is supposed to be there to help her with her evening walk. Meadow’s, answers the receptionist.

Yes, hi. This is Sofia Azzerella returning Jan’s call.

One moment, please. As I patiently wait for Jan to take my call, I grab my calendar to verify that it is indeed Gina’s evening to help Mom. This rotation is quite simple, and it has been key in keeping Mom active. My siblings and I take turns going in the evening and getting Mom out of bed for a walk. She uses a walker but manages to do okay. The physical therapist takes her around the building in the mornings and follows up with a series of various exercises. But that is only three times a week.

Hello, this is Jan.

Hi, Jan, it’s Sofie, Francis’s daughter.

Yes, hi, Sofie. I called to let you know we’re icing your mother’s knee and awaiting the results of her X-ray.

What happened to my mom?

Well, unfortunately, we received a bomb threat over the telephone, so we notified the authorities, and they demanded an immediate evacuation and sent the bomb squad. I get the sense that if the decision were left to her, she’d be the only one evacuating and wishing good freakin’ luck to everyone else.

She goes on to confirm that it was a false alarm and says how appalled she is to learn how my mother behaved and how she didn’t know my mom had it in her to run. She seems the most bothered by Mom allegedly leaving a path of destruction behind her. Dummy me, I have to ask what she means by that. Long story short, Mom injured herself while kicking and pushing the elderly residents that were blocking her from the exit door. They are currently awaiting X-ray results as well.

After speaking to Jan, I telephone Mom to see how she is and, of course, to hear her side of things. She conveniently doesn’t answer, so while I have the phone in hand, I ring my sister Gina. She answers on my fourth attempt. This is just like my big Italian pain-in-the-ass family: when all is good, they love to take your call, but when the shit hits the fan, they go incognito. The fact that she does not answer the first three times is a clear admission of guilt.

Hi, Gina, I say.

Why are you stalking my mobile? Gina asks.

Well, let’s see, Gina. Mom and many others are undergoing X-rays for injuries due to an evacuation at the facility, and you are supposed to be there. It’s your night, and you are nowhere to be found, so what part of why I’m calling don’t you understand?

What kinds of injuries? Gina asks in a concerned voice.

Mostly mild, I guess.

Well, that is good. I’ll talk to you later, Sof. I have to get back to my friends.

Wait one minute, Gina. You never answered my question! It feels like forever before she says anything.

Sofie, you can’t get mad, okay?

No, I respond.

I’m out with friends having a well-deserved good time, she says, and it occurred to me that tonight is my night to walk Mom, and you always bitch if I have to cancel, so I did what I had to do.

Which was what, Gina? To ditch Mom?

I didn’t ditch Mom. I made sure she got out of the bed and moving around, didn’t I? I begin deep breathing to calm myself as Gina continues to tell me what an ingenious idea it was to call in a bomb threat.

•

I have woken up particularly early today, wanting to get a jump start on what I know is going to be a busy day. After a quick shower, I run the brush through my wavy black hair. I decide I don’t want to take time to blow dry, so I pull it back into a ponytail. As I climb into the car and shut the car door, I pull the visor mirror down to do a face inspection. Hair—um, acceptable; teeth—A+, brushed and pearly white; eyes—desperate for concealer and mascara, which I can apply at those pesky stoplights; lips—perfectly covered in lip balm and a soft shade of gloss. It’s off to work!

Awesome! I’m the first family member here. Being the first to work allows me the chance to sip my coffee and start my workday in a calm, peaceful manner. However, my excitement is a bit premature. I hear my business partner, who happens to be my aunt, shouting, Some little SOB is parked in my reserved space, and I’ve been forced to walk clear across the parking lot! See how winded I am? I have asthma, you know! Continuing to yell, she exclaims, Well, don’t just stand there; do something!

I’m not sure what she wants me to do. Aunt J, I can’t pick up the car and move it, but I can call a tow truck. But first let’s see if someone comes for it.

Like hell I’m gonna wait! Everyone knows that’s my spot! Aunt J stands a whopping 4'11" and is exactly what people mean when they say dynamite comes in small packages.

The next one in, and just in time, is my brother Jackamo (Jacky) with the greeting, Good morning, girls!

I blurt out, Jacky, am I glad to see you! Aunt J wastes no time telling Jacky about her parking dilemma.

Jacky looks like he wants to laugh, but instead he politely says, Aunt J, I’m so proud of you!

You are?

I sure am. Just six months ago you would’ve put your SUV into drive and floored it into that car! Today you’ve handled it like a lady.

You know, Jacky, you’re right. Aunt J holds her head high and trots around the corner to her office. I look up at Jacky as he gives me a wink. Jacky is also a partner and invaluable at handling Aunt J.

On a normal day, our final two partners would be here as well: my sister Gina, who so kindly arranged for mom’s walk yesterday and is best described as something ending with cotic, and Dominic (Dom), largely responsible for the growth of the company—and his waistline. Dom and Aunt J have a very sophisticated lunch schedule. I believe they typically plan their meal choices months in advance.

And then there’s me: Sofie Azzerella. My family-owned business deals in wholesale produce. With an Italian name like Azzerella, people usually expect our family business to be more interesting than produce. Although our business may not seem all that interesting, our family certainly is. I’m thirty-two years old and mostly my time is devoted to work and family, with an occasional weekend outing with my dear friends. At 5'5", I have a slim build with perky, average-size boobs and a cute face, tan complexion, and long, wavy, dark hair. I’m the fourth-born of six children. The youngest two are Marie and Tony. Tony, who is away at medical school, is Mom’s favorite and has been since he was little.

Sweet Marie, like Tony, has opted out of produce and chosen to follow her own passion. Mom feels Marie’s occupation is an embarrassment to the family. On the other hand, I feel Marie’s occupation is meaningful to her and to many canines. Marie is a dog psychologist—and, from what I hear, a damn good one. Every time Marie’s profession is discussed in front of Mom, she raises her hand up toward heaven. This is Mom’s dramatic display of displeasure. Thankfully, Marie is often absent during such discussions, especially when Mom refers to her as a pet mind-reader or something, making sure she complains that she and Dad sent her to an Ivy League school just to study some bullshit like that.

My dad passed away five years ago. You see, Dad was diagnosed with cancer and died a mere three weeks after his diagnosis. I believe he was genuinely pissed off about the whole unexpected cancer thing. About twice a day, Dad would call. Sofie, it’s me. I haven’t shot through yet, but I feel like crap. This was usually followed by, Can you believe I’m dying, when your mom has been sick her whole life? It was during conversations like that when we feared Mom would kill him before the cancer did. Sadly, Mom’s health deteriorated so quickly after Dad’s passing that she became totally dependent on me and my siblings.

I like to fill my days so I never have a chance to feel lonely or desperate for love. The whole pity-for-the-lonely-single-girl really isn’t my thing. Besides, I have great friends who gladly keep my social calendar alive. They plan our weekend getaways and shopping excursions that sometimes end with dinner and lots of drinks. My two best friends are Jill and Popper. Popper is also my cousin, and we’ve been besties since childhood. She and Jill are nothing alike, but both have very strong personalities.

Just like yesterday and the day before, I have arrived at work after being stuck in bumper-to-bumper construction traffic. Believe me, traffic in Chicago is bad enough without road work. I always come into work with some friendly hellos before going into my office, sitting down at my desk, and logging onto my computer. Today, deciding to check my voicemail and decompress from the road rage, I discover that my day is actually going to be busier than I intended, as I’ve been called to a mandatory meeting at Meadow’s Rehabilitation and Long-Term Care Center. Mandated meetings are never a good sign, especially when we are trying to put things like the bomb ordeal behind us. I wish Mom didn’t need their care, but the fact is, she does. She wound up there after her last hospital stay, when she wasn’t well enough to go home, but she wasn’t sick enough to stay in the hospital. The care center can also be a place where people go when they are sick enough to be in the hospital, but the hospital staff can’t take one more day of them. To put it mildly, Mother can be a bit of a handful at times.

I dial Meadow’s, hoping that just this once they can work around my schedule.

Meadow’s, this is Cara. How can I help you? comes the cheerful voice.

Hi, Cara. Can I speak to Jan Walker?

Sure, please hold.

Instantly I hear, Jan Walker. Can I help you?

Hello, this is Sofie Azzerella. I’m returning your call in regard to today’s meeting.

Jan replies in a serious voice, Oh, yes. We need to go over some of the requirements of our residents so that we are all on the same page here.

Okay, that’s fine, but I’m wondering if you would mind if we moved the meeting to later this afternoon, say, three o’clock?

I have to check with my staff. Can I call you back?

Definitely. Try my cell number first. We disconnect, and I know at once that this is going to be a sticky meeting.

I go out to the warehouse to find Scott, one of our best buyers and a good friend of the family. We need to discuss a business deal that we’ve been working on for months. We have been working with a farm that has excellent quality and is willing to sell directly to a wholesaler. He is one choosy farmer and has a few different companies battling for a contract. I guess when you’re good, you can be persnickety. Scott’s a great communicator and understands our commitment to excellence and desire to stay ahead of the competition.

When I find Scott, he gives me great news; it sounds like the whole deal is about to wrap up with a good outcome.

Enough about business, though! Scott says. I have some really good personal news! I have asked Melanie’s hand in marriage, and she’s accepted!

Good for you, Scott! You two make such a great couple. I’m so happy for you.

Scott’s is beaming. Thank you, Sofie. You have always been so supportive of me.

Why wouldn’t I be? You’re a terrific guy!

With a somber look, Scott replies, Well, some people have told me that Melanie is not the girl for me, and some have even gone so far as to say they just don’t like her promiscuous ways. But she’s changed.

Regardless of what people say, I am happy for Scott and hope it works out for him.

Evidently I have missed the call from Meadow’s, so I listen to my messages, and thankfully they have been able to move the meeting to three o’clock. I shoot an e-mail to my siblings in case they are able to attend (what a joke) and go straight back to working until lunchtime. Dom and Aunt J invite me to Rex’s for lunch.

Rex’s restaurant has a lovely down-home feel. The walls are decorated with autographed pictures of local celebrities, while the tables always have a vase of fresh-cut flowers on top of country linens. With a line always extending out the door, the lunch crowd is a good mix of young and old. Unfortunately, waiting is not Aunt J’s cup of tea.

She goes straight through the crowd and asks the hostess to send Rex out. Rex is the owner, and I think he has a little crush on my aunt. He stands a whopping 6'1", towering over Aunt J’s petite frame. He sports a buzz cut and wears enough jewelry to send metal detectors beeping for miles.

Rex comes out and seats us at a cozy booth with a window offering us a view of the delightful autumn day. The friendly waitress who comes to take our order has flaming red hair cut into a perfect bob and gives us great service. I can tell Aunt J makes her nervous, so maybe that is why everything is perfect. I catch Aunt J up on things with Mom and the meeting at Meadow’s. Aunt J offers to come, but I nip that in the bud right away. The last thing I need is her going in there with guns blazing. Besides, I know she is upset that we have allowed Mom to go there. She doesn’t have a clue what I went through trying to work and care for Mom.

I find myself lost in thought during lunch, thinking about the last few months Mom was at home and how much care she required. She was too stubborn to face the fact that she needed help. I tried to get her to live with me and hire nurses during the day, but she said she would never move in with one of us kids—she didn’t want that. I’m not really sure if she’s being reasonable, but she’s still pretty lucid. Sometimes I think she is just a spitfire.

I did hire nurses to stay with her during the day while I was at work. In a month’s time, Mom went through five nurses. Finally, toward the end, I simply hired a lady to pop in from time to time during the day, but Mom would never let her in. She claimed she didn’t hear the doorbell. Amazingly, she always heard the doorbell when Meals on Wheels came to deliver her lunches. She can be impossible to reason with, but when her legs finally began to give out from underneath her, I knew we had to do something.

Sofie, our food is here. Aren’t you going to eat? I look down at my plate and my mouth begins to water. I have a yeast roll the size of my head, dripping with butter, a scoop of mashed potatoes with gravy, homemade coleslaw, and fried chicken. I am in paradise! In an effort to savor each bite, I take a pinch of my buttery roll with each bite of mashed potato, moving next to the fried chicken—to be eaten simultaneously with the coleslaw. Who cares about all the shit I have to do today. I am in food heaven!

As we stand to leave, Rex comes over to walk us out. Aunt J and Rex stroll behind me and Dom—which is great. It gives me a chance to catch up on my brother’s life. I will say that I find Rex’s arm around my aunt shocking, not to mention that it is distracting me from what my brother was saying. Oh, for crying out loud—his hand is on her butt, I mutter to myself.

It is hard for me to believe that Dom doesn’t find the scene distracting, as he continues boasting about what geniuses his three boys are. Personally, I cannot lose the disgusting mental picture that these apparent lovebirds are putting into my head—not even long enough to think about how full of shit Dom is. Although I love my nephews dearly, they are nothing like he describes. The youngest has a pet rock he takes everywhere; the middle kid’s been sick twice from eating clay and other nonfood items; and the oldest stuck a marble so far up his nose that doctors had to surgically remove it. The list goes on, but that is just enough to give you the idea.

We get into the car, and as we pull away, Dom asks Aunt J, So, are you and Rex an item or what?

Aunt J beams. I can’t help myself around that man.

I can’t take it. Say no more. We get the picture!

We arrive back at the office, and I make a beeline in the opposite direction from Aunt J. I am afraid to hear any details about her relationship with Rex, but I am failing miserably in my attempt to avoid too much information. She is following behind me.

She initiates what appears to be the start of a good conversation. You know, Sofie, I have been lonely since my husband passed, and I’m glad for the companionship of a man like Rex.

I know you have been, I said, and I’m glad you found someone you enjoy spending time with.

You make this sound like Rex and I are only friends! I’ve got news for you; we are far more than that.

I’m so sorry that I’ve offended you. I did not mean to imply only friendship. It’s, well, awkward to discuss more than that with my aunt.

Oh, Sofie, don’t be such a prude. We are both adult enough to know a woman has needs. Besides, why shouldn’t I be allowed the pleasure of a man that’s hung like a horse?

Breathe, breathe, I remind myself as I walk back into my office. She is so inappropriate. Why must she tell me such things? For crying out loud, doesn’t she think it makes me sick to know my elderly aunt gets more action than I do?

I shake off my frustration and throw myself back into work