November 3, 2008
Mamma looked at me in disbelief. I was looking straight ahead, she was to my left. I could feel her looking at me; could tell what her expression meant. Out the corner of my eye was the look I’d been receiving for thirty years. Mamma didn't need to speak, her silence was loud enough. There would be words though, after she had effected her silence for long enough. "I canta believe dis Roberto! What am I supposed to do-a with dis- you tell mamma!" I didn't move. "who told you to puta de pears in a cassata? Tell me? Who?"