Warm Dough
The sun was setting as the cool air settled softly on the ground, flowing between the looming shadows cast by the masses of pine trees. Connecticut was beautiful this time of year. The soft whispers of the wind called out quietly to the cozy houses nestled between the trees, each house responding with silence. One house, however, was making quite a bit of noise, the walls and windows barely muffling the harsh screams coming from inside it.
Inside the Dunn house, Stella was standing over a hot stove cooking eggs in an old iron frying pan. She was wrapped in a loose, dull sleeping robe, her graying hair adorned with perky pink curlers. One tired hand was busy spreading the wet egg around the pan, while the other was tightly pinching a half-smoked cigarette. The smell of smoke and eggs clashed and mixed around the furniture in the living room, just outside the kitchen, where Stella's adult daughter and Italian mother were sitting. Her twenty-two year old niece was on the floor. The insides of their noses burned from the smell coming from the kitchen. In between chopping up egg and sucking on her cigarette, Stella turned her head and screamed over her shoulder at her twenty-two year old niece, who was screaming back just as loudly.
Evette was sitting cross-legged like a child on the plain white carpet in the living room, her small fingers clawing at the carpeting as she shrieked at her old aunt. Her long brown hair hung down past her waist, twisting into a pile on the ground behind her. She wore a loose-fitting blouse, no bra, and a long, dirty skirt. A shining peace sign hung from her dainty neck, which swung and danced, unnoticed, as Evette tensed and reddened with each screaming retort. The pungent scent of lavender seeped from her clothing and hair, adding to the clash of odors in the air.
“You need to shut up about things you don't understand - and don't even try to tell me you understand it!” Stella squawked at the top of her lungs, as she angrily waved her cigarette in the air like a judge with a gavel. “You're just a naïve little bitch, acting up for attention! You and your bum hippie friends don't know anything!”
“Oh, it's so easy to stand there and say that, isn't it?!” Evette's back arched like that of an angry cat as she leaned forward, bombarding her aunt with harsh words. “Your problem is that your whole damn generation is closed-mined as hell! I'll bet the only thing you know about Communism is that Kennedy said it was 'scary,' and 'evil!' Ooooooh, scary! Ooooooh, evil! Me and my 'bum hippie' friends know more about it than you because we actually think!”
Stella was fuming, it was hard to tell it the steam rising over her head was from the eggs or from her. “Think?! Any sane person – hell, any insane person – knows that Communism is completely insensible.” She took a long drag on her cigarette, angrily spewing smoke from her mouth as she shouted more insults at Evette. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You've rotted your brain on acid, that's what!”
Evette's nails dug into the carpeting as she released another volley of screams at Stella. Their loud conflict had grabbed the attention of the girl on the couch and the old woman sitting in the corner of the living room.
Laurie was sitting with her legs up next to her on the couch, her senses overwhelmed by the swill of smells invading her nose and the shrill cries assaulting her ears. She was transfixed on Stella and Evette; her mother and cousin fought quite often, but this was definitely the most aggressive she had ever seen them. She thought about trying to continue reading her novel, her finger still resting on the page she had been reading before the fight broke out, but she felt that the scene in front of her was much more entertaining.
Tussles of any kind between her mother and Evette didn't surprise her very much anymore. In fact, she expected them on a regular basis. A tiny smile snuck out from the corner of her mouth, which she covered lightly with her hand, lest her already enraged mother see it and turn her fury on Laurie.
She couldn't help but feel superior to the two women screaming at each other in the middle of the house. That feeling always came over her when Stella and Evette fought. For a brief moment she felt like royalty, resting comfortably on her couch as she watched two fools squabble at each other for her amusement. She quietly snickered at her aunt and cousin, and in that instant she heard someone next to her laugh as well.
Laurie turned to her right, still covering her smile, to see her old Italian grandmother, Anntonetta, trying not to laugh at the craziness unfolding before them. She was struggling with a mouth full of ricotta cheese, which she had peacefully been munching on before the fight broke out. When Laurie and her grandmother's eyes met, they both burst into laughter. Neither of them could believe how easy it was for Stella and Evette to fight so senselessly over something so pointless. Communism wasn't exactly a huge issue worthy of debate, even in 1979. Arguing over something like Evette's boyfriend was one thing, but arguing about Communism? While Stella was making eggs? Laurie and Anntonetta couldn't stop laughing at the stupidity of it all.
Laurie rolled back and forth on the couch, holding her chest as it heaved with laughter. As she pushed strands of her long, dark hair from her face, she looked up at her grandmother. Anntonetta's dark, wrinkled skin stretched across her face, her mouth gaping open as she laughed, bits of ricotta cheese tumbling from her toothless mouth. That made them both laugh even harder. Laurie loved her grandmother's laugh; throaty and unfiltered and wonderful. Laurie's grandmother always had a way of making her laugh, whether it was with her own laughter or her Italian witticisms; Anntonetta tended to respond to every downside with a heavily accented “Whatcha gonna do?” She closed her eyes, tears of joy rolling down her blushing cheeks, and lost herself in the wonderful absurdity of the laughter and screams.
Stella and Evette suddenly stopped screaming at each other upon hearing the jeering laughter coming from the living room. They both glared furiously at Laurie and Anntonetta, who were both in fits of laughter in their seats. Stella had stopped thrashing the eggs about the frying pan. Her angry, pale fingers clenched the spatula so hard that she broke a nail. She crushed the remains of her cigarette in a nearby ashtray and raised her voice, this time at the two laughing women in the living room.
“And just what in the hell is so funny, huh?!” Her voice was cracking from all the yelling. Stella's stare was cold and piercing, which was her specialty, but Laurie and Anntonetta were not phased by it.
“What's-a so funny? You! You and-a her is crazy! Siete tutti pazzi! ” Anntonetta's Italian accent clung onto her words like warm dough. It was music to Laurie's ears. Sometimes she would try to imitate her grandmother's accent when she was alone. She wanted her voice to tickle and warm others' ears like Anntonetta's did.
“Crazy?!” Stella's eyes almost popped out of her head, she was so mad. She turned her gaze on Laurie, who, still smiling, looked to her grandmother for help. Anntonetta looked at Stella, glowing red with anger, then looked at Laurie, smiling and gasping for breath on the couch. She smiled lightly, shrugged, and with her warm Italian voice said:
“Eh, whatcha gonna do?”
