Chapter 2

Mother ironing

Grandma Mazur had our grocery basket in one hand and with her other led me to to the checkout counter.

"It's OK, Grandma, I can walk."

Margarita the clerk just shook her head, glanced up at me, but said nothing. I was still stunned from the egg to the temple, head bouncing on the floor, and from Joe's fist. I could care less about the mess on my clothing, I've had worse. A big dark shadow fell over Grandma and me; it was Tank, second in command of Rangeman Security. "I'll drive," he said quietly. Bink, one of the younger Rangeman men was nearby and grabbed the grocery sacks.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as we walked towards his big black SUV.

"The men monitoring the police calls said you were having trouble."

"My name was on the police scanner…again?" I cringed inside.

"Not directly, more like a code letting Joe Morelli know. How do you think he and Ranger manage to show up so soon after your mishaps?"

"So with Ranger in Boston, you are his stand in?"

"Baby Girl, each time he leaves he tells you to call me if you need help. My job is to make certain you are alright. Keeping you safe requires advance planning. This is a case of "shit happens."

I could tell his anger was being kept under control with very thin threads but I didn't know if it was pointed at me or others.

"Give your keys to Bink, he'll drive your car," Tank said tersely.

"Good thing Ranger is in Boston," I remarked thinking Joe would be mush by now.

"Yeah, but I still had to broadcast a warning to other Rangeman to keep hands off of Joe. Let the justice system work." He then looked at me with compassion, "Are you hurt? You look pale."

"Maybe more shocked than hurt," I muttered.

Tank handed my car keys to Bink and said to him, "We will meet you at the Plum house."

Before we left the parking lot, Grandma remembered the Italian Crème Cake. Tank graciously drove first to Italian People's Bakery. I wasn't going in so he volunteered to accompany Grandma inside.

"Do you want anything?" Grandma asked.

Since I wasn't seeing double and no blood was leaking from my head, I answered, "No nothing." If I wasn't still stuck in the land of denial, I might have worried about Tank's safety from Grandma's pinches.

When they exited the bakery Grandma had her arm around Tank's. It was cute then I realized he was holding her hand to keep it away from his buttocks. Tank helped Grandma Mazur into her seat then went around to the driver's side and leaned back over the front seat, "I should take you to the hospital for your head."

"No, no, no! I've bumped my head before. I was never really out, just admiring the stars for a bit."

"Then let Bobby run the concussion protocol on you."

"I'm not dizzy. I'm not seeing double or blurry vision, no ringing in my ears, no vomiting." I gave the date and year, my location, my family members, high school attended. "Do you want me to tap dance too?"

"Can you?" he asked.

"Not since I was four nor can I play the piano or violin."

He grumbled a bit, said something about smart ass, then said, "If there is any change, no matter what, call immediately, promise?"

"Yes, I promise." I was pissed at Grandma mentioning the fall but also relieved somebody cared about me.

My car was already in front of my mother's house. Bink stood guard as if someone would actually want a sun bleached, half rusted Mercury. Tank carried the groceries into the house. As he left he quietly said, "You need to put some ice on your jaw, Baby Girl."

"Yeah, OK, thank you for ….the ride and taking Grandma to the bakery."

The house smelled of hot ironed clothes. My mother was in the kitchen ironing her anger away. "A simple request, go to the store. And the two of you end up knocking out Mr. Margola, killing Mrs. Giovanni and cursing the Morelli men including Joseph."

"Can it Helen," my grandmother shot back. "When are you going to stop listening to the Burg lies?" My mother looked up surprised. It is not often Grandma chastises her daughter.

Grandma Mazur sat down at the table. I brought the cookie jar, cups and the coffee pot. Reaching into the freezer I grabbed for a bag of peas to use as a cold compress. What was I thinking? This was the Plum house. There are no peas in the freezer. Instead I grabbed several ice cubes, wrapped them in a tea towel and placed it alternatively against my jaw, temple, and back of my head. Mother brought her glass of "ice tea:" Jack Daniels on the rocks and it was not yet noon. We each ate an oatmeal cookie in silence. With the second cookie Grandma Mazur detailed what had happened.

"When are you going to get a cell phone with video so you can actually see what happened instead of listening to second hand reports and lies? Bella was throwing eggs at us; maybe at Stephanie or maybe me. I don't know. The eggs splattered on the meat display case and fell to the floor. She then launched a giant tomato can at us; it broke the glass on the case. Mr. Margola came out from behind cursing and slipped on the egg slick floor. He fell onto the meat case's metal edge, face first. His mouth is a mess, broken teeth, maybe a broken jaw."

My mother said nothing.

Grandma Mazur continued, "Bella threw more eggs, one hit Stephanie in the head, see the yolk on her shoulder. She fell backwards over Mr. Margola and lay unconscious on the floor. I grabbed some liver through the broken glass and hit Bella in the face. It was childish, I know but it felt so good. She threw it back and hit Stephanie in the back. Look at her blouse."

My mother looked and moaned, "I'll never get that stain out."

I stared at her with my mouth open. She wasn't concerned about a concussion, no sympathy, no anger, she only cares about her laundry.

Grandma must have had the same thought as she stared at her daughter before continuing, "Angie Morelli arrived but did nothing to help Mr. Margola nor did the spectators, maybe five or six women including that harpy Mrs. Spinoza. Finally Carmen Giovanni came forward to help and yelled at Angie that her mother in law was the devil. Before Angie could get a hold of Bella, the witch cursed your daughter to be sterile."

My mother gasped, "Sterile?" I'm not sure she believes in curses, but any chance I might not give her grandchildren is a tragedy.

"Angie finally began taking Bella away but the old lady pulled away, looked at the four of us, threw back her head, pointed with four fingers, and spat the death curse, Morte."

My mother gasped again and crossed herself.

Grandma also crossed herself and continued with her recital, "I slipped into Hungarian and asked God to forgive Bella. Carmen fainted but was sitting up talking to the EMTs before they took her to the hospital. Nobody else moved to help, the useless bitches."

My eyes opened wide, Grandma Mazur does not curse or only mildly. Pausing, Grandma sipped her coffee.

"What about the Morelli men?" my mother asked quietly.

"Joseph walked in all cocky and started laughing about the incident saying if Stephanie becomes sterile he won't need a condom, right in front of all those women. He had no concern for the injured, never asked if Stephanie was hurt, he laughed. The Morelli men are worthless trash, Joseph is no different from any other Morelli men. He then hit Stephanie right there in the store and swung at Eddie. Eddie should have arrested him, but Joe was out the door. Is that the type of man you want for your daughter? You want your daughter to be another Morelli abused wife? I say good riddance to the whole lot."

"Maybe she deserved it," my mother offered.

I jumped up, sending my chair crashing to the floor. "What did you say?" I glared at her.

Grandma Mazur grabbed my hand before my mouth started flapping further.

"If it hadn't been for Eddie, she'd be missing teeth or worse, Helen."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hit her, not Joseph." My mother whined. "He'll forgive her."

My grandmother sat there furious, "Helen Mazur Plum, he made a fist and hit her, it wasn't a slap. He could and should lose his job. He should be begging Stephanie's forgiveness. He's a horse's patoot, no...he's a horse's ass. Friday after Friday he sits in the dining room eating Plum food while criticizing your daughter. I hope Stephanie finally kicks his sorry ass to the curb. If this were my house I'd never let him past the front door."

My mother wailed, "What will I say to Angie? Who is going to marry Stephanie now?"

"Helen, she married once to someone you thought was proper and he turned out to be an unfaithful jerk. Now you want her to marry an abuser? You've been trying to run her life for years. She's an adult; let her live her own life. Get your own life in order instead."

My mother glared at her, "What do you mean, get my own life in order?"

"You are an alcoholic. Nobody buys your "ice tea" charade."

"Do you blame me?"

"Yes, if you had been concentrating on your own life and marriage, not meddling into hers and Valerie's, you wouldn't need your "ice teas."

"It's not easy with you here, you know," my mother shot back."

Grandma Mazur got up, went to the phone and pulled it from the wall, threw it across the room against the floor, and went upstairs. The hard plastic covering fell from the phone's internal parts. I hoped there was more damage, but I doubted it. Those old phones were indestructible; probably a little duct tape or Gorilla Glue and it would be fine again.

I listened to Grandma Mazur stomp up the stairs. I hadn't sat down, but leaned over the table, looked into my mother's slightly blurry eyes and said, "Just so you are clear, it is over between Joe and me. O-V-E-R! He hit me, hit me in public! I'm finished with his berating me, embarrassing me. It's over; let him find some other woman to knock around and knock up, it's not me. As for you and me, saying I deserved to be hit went way beyond the line. I will not be coming to dinner tonight or any night in the future nor will I be stopping by to have lunch. Do not bring anymore Burg rejects to dinner in hopes of finding me a husband because I will not be here. There isn't enough pineapple upside down cake, chocolate cake or pudding to get me back to your table."

I went upstairs and knocked on my Grandmother's door. When I opened it I saw her with a photo album in her lap, "I was hoping you'd come see me."

I sat beside her on the bed and hugged her, "I came to see if you were alright and to thank you."

"No sweetheart, I should have spoken up sooner. I was hoping you'd get your life together and realize you don't need her running your life. You were such an independent thing but suddenly you lost your confidence. I was looking at these pictures remembering what you were, and what you became."

I looked down and Grandma had pictures of Valerie and me, but far more of me. "Why are there so many pictures of me?" I asked.

"You are my favorite. You were so independent and you had dreams, like me. Life in Hungary was difficult. The government was in a mess but then so was so much of Europe after World War I so my family came here with only hope in their pockets. I was the first to be born here. I was too young to work in the factories in Newark during World War II but I remember the rationing of food, gasoline, collecting scrap metal, old cooking fat to become explosives, newspapers, lumber, collecting cattail fiber for gas mask filters. We saved everything, made due with little. In school my parents kept telling me to work hard and be someone; a doctor or nurse, a professor or teacher. But my father died building ships for the war effort and my mother got sick a year before I graduated from high school. I had to take care of her. When she died, I had nothing. I went to work at a bakery and eventually met your grandfather. We married. I was a wife and eventually a mother."

I had never heard my grandmother talk about her life. It sounded sad, how did she remain so upbeat? "Did you like being a wife and mother?"

"I loved my husband, he was a pip. He worked hard and provided for our two daughters and me. First your aunt Marta came and then Helen. Marta was like a free bird. She did well for so many years. She became a stewardess and flew all over the world before the taxi accident in Paris. Helen was like her father, buried here in the Burg and tradition. She had no spark. I never knew what Frank saw in her, he was just out of the Army and Viet Nam, maybe he was looking for stability."

"But were you happy, Grandma?"

"Maybe if I went to college I would have hated my career. I might never have met my husband and…you wouldn't be here beside me. I am happy the way things turned out. I have two fine granddaughters and four great-granddaughters. Life has many different roads; nobody should tell you which road to choose. We determine the road and how happy we are when we get there. I am happy."

Turning back to the photo album she pointed to pictures of Aunt Marta and my mother. I looked like Marta, same blue eyes, but I got the Italian hair.

"Was she a handful like me?" I asked.

Grandma Mazur chuckled. "We had a black and white television. Marta would watch all the westerns, Roller Derby, wrestling and even Friday night fights. She loved action. After her stick horse phase like you and Mary Alice, she went into roller skates. This was back when the skates attached to shoes and often fell off. Poor Marta had perennial skinned knees and elbows, but she'd just laugh and keep going. In the winter we built an Indian village in the basement and would play for hours. Your mother stayed in her room dressing and undressing her dolls or playing on her toy kitchen. Marta loved the Beatles and all the English bands. She said she was going to live in England where all the cool people lived."

Grandma turned the pages. "Marta never married. She had many boyfriends but wanted her freedom. She didn't so much enjoy being a stewardess; she said it was a glorified waitress job in the sky. What she loved was seeing the world. Here, see the post cards she sent: Rome, Paris, London, Buenos Aires, Cairo, and Oslo. She took me to Amsterdam and we saw the women in the windows, the canals, and the tulips. It was lovely."

"Women in the windows, you mean mannequins?" I asked.

"Prostitutes advertised themselves by standing or sitting in the bordello windows to lure clients," she chuckled. Turning back to the album, "You were so much like Marta, tomboy, independent. I dreamed you too would see the world like Marta and you were on your way, until…"

I knew what she was talking about. I could see it in the photos. As a young child I was all curls and attitude. Valerie was beaming in her party dress with the big bow and I looked like I was ready to shred my dress with my hands. My knees were constantly skinned, my hair was a frizzed mess from home permanents trying to straighten the natural curl, and my expression was a scowl. My mother insisted I participate in "lady-like activities" such as tap dance, ballet, both of which I failed miserable. My last attempt to placate my mother was baton twirling. There I was in my white boots, tall hat, and short skirt moments before I lost the baton in the trombone section and was nearly decapitated by the trombone slides. Just a few months later I got a job at Tasty Pastry and had my encounter with Joe Morelli. I didn't think losing my virginity to him behind the pastry counter affected me that much but the pictures said otherwise. I had not only lost my virginity and innocence but also my self-worth. Joe had written about our exploits on the stadium walls. I became a target for every horny high school boy, "You put out for Joe Morelli you need to put out for me." In a way I became the woman in the window providing entertainment for the Burg. From my failed career with EE Martin, my failed marriage to Dickie Orr, my bounty hunter job and on-again off-again relationship with Joe, I am a failure. I threw my arms around my grandmother, "What am I going to do?"

"You took it today. You finally stood up to Joe. I don't know what you said to your mother after I left, but it's time for you to totally leave her nest and cold heart. Don't surrender your life to being something you can't be. Fly free and if that means leaving the Burg and Trenton, so be it. I want to leave this life knowing you are happy just like Marta was happy."

"What about you Grandma?"

"It's time I move on…"

"Grandma, NO!"

"No Stephanie, to the senior living facility. Mabel Jeruski has asked me to room with her to cut costs. She has a two bedroom apartment. She's a lot more fun than your mother. The only problem is I won't see your hot young men, especially Ranger. Now there's a hunk of a man with a fine package, of course the big black guy kinda takes my breath away too."

"Tank?"

"Oh yeah, supersize."

"What about mama?"

"She has Johnny Walker and Jim Beam to keep her company. Your father will be happy, maybe he might help with my rent!"

"If I had the money, I'd help you," I sniffed.

"I know dear."

Leave the Burg? Leave Trenton? In the past that sounded impossible, now maybe it was the only answer.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. Your questions and comments keep me on track. Eleni