Honorable Mention, Prose

Cherries in Brandy
by
Toni Gianese
New Hartford, Conneticut

A twist of the lid and the jar seal breaks. The heady aroma makes her swoon. Terracotta gems collide in amber liquor. The stems of the elegant dolci invite. Her fingers dip in to snare a flamboyant morsel. Eyes closed in concentrated pleasure, she nibbles on memorIes.

"Ma perche no ciliege?" Nonna demands when her daughter crosses the brandied cherries off the list.

"Because, Mama, you take medication. The alcohol interferes with it," Chita says.

I hike the narrow steps to Nonna's third floor apartment. Nudging ninety-two, I wonder how she climbs the stairs. She must take her breath from the walls. Trips to the store are few, always the vigilant Chita beside her. I cling to the rail that follows the curve of plaster to her door. I knock.

"Avanti!" Nonna says. "Cara, come! Come sta?"

I settle on the hassock near Nonna's feet and rest my chin on her lap. Her legs are wrapped in wool, crossed like two geese joined at the neck. She lays her mottled hand on my cheek. Anisette mingles with espresso.

"I hoped you would come to see me. Poor Chita," she says, pointing at the floor toward her daughter's apartment, "malatta, sick, and this is the last of my Lavazza." She waves the empty cup at me.

"I'll go to the store for you."

"No, we go together, to Teti's, around the comer. I see my paisan, bring him some minestrone, si?" Nonna unfolds from a hunched double knot and gets her net sling.

"I'll tell Chita where we are going," I say
.
Nonna smooths her hair.

"For what? Don't bother her."

"Piano," Nonna whispers. We pass Chita's apartment and go to the car. Around the block at the market, Mr.Teti is dodging a brood of pigeons.

"Benvenuta, Regina, come sta? I have fresh rabbit. Come, I'll get you some," Mr. Teti scoops Nonna from the car. Heads together, they gossip as they walk, an
intimate exchange under hanging salamis and cheese. Nonna gives Mr. Tetl the minestrone. He hums as he fills her bag.

"Andiamo!" Nonna calls and I come, clutching a fistful of caramelle. Mr. Teti carries the bag to the car and sets it on the floor. Nonna steadies it between her knees, thehandles secure on her wrist.

Back home, Nonna glances at Chita's window. The shade is still down. She was right. Like swimmers fifty strokes from the shore, we hadn't gone far enough to be missed.

"Nonna, give me the bag. I'll check on Chita," I say.

"No, cara. I'll call her later. I must get the rabbit into the icebox," Nonna insists, hugging the bag close.

We scale the stairs, planting our feet cautiously, and reach Nonna's apartment without incident.

"Grazie, cara," she whispers. She pinches my cheeks and the net bag swings against my chest. As she leans in to kiss me goodbye, I hear the slosh of cherries in brandy.

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