Ospitalità (Nonno Flirts with Death)
“A clean place to work is one thing,” Carlo’s nonno said. “A clean place to die? Ha! That’s another.” Nonno looked out through the window, the view was grey and wet. “How soon, you think?”
“How soon dinner?”
“Dinner! Fa nable! But it would do the trick. How soon dinner, give or take? I won’t hold you to it.”
“You’re not dying, Nonno.”
“Heavens no.” He smiled. “I’m the picture of health.” Carlo saw the origins of his own small underbite. A shitty grin his mother said before his molars dropped. “But how soon till we eat?”
“Maybe an hour,” Carlo said. “Maybe a little more.”
The old man waved his hand. “What kind of service is that, goombah? How’d’these places stay in business?”
The unit was in an old wing of the hospital given by the family of a famous poultry rancher. After dinner, Thanksgiving kind of spread, the nurses came to lift and clean him. “Don’t stick around for this part, Guapo,” Nonno said.
“I’ll go for a walk.”
“This one,” he said, meaning the big, pink nurse pulling down the bed sheets. “What’s the matter?” she said.
“Your hands––like cold dead fish.”
“Mr. Siampa, that’s not nice.”
“Ciampa,” he said, biting. “Ciampa, like with teeth.”
“Mr. Ciampa. Sorry.”
“Like cold fish,” he said to Carlo. “Not that it matters. Nothing works here south of Rome.”
“South of Rome?” the nurse said.
“The mezzogiorno,” Carlo answered.
“My grandson’s been to college. They only call it that in books. You ever been to southern It’ly?”
“No.”
“Would you like to go?”
“Someday, maybe.”
“Make sure to lick the boot!”
“Pop!”
“My family’s from the tip.” He bit the air again. “Chompa, chompa, chompa!”
“Jesus, Pop,” said Carlo, but he was also laughing.
“Don’t take the Lord’s name lightly, boy-o.”
“I didn’t mean to, Nonno.”
Nonno looked back at the nurse. “I suppose you’re going to clean my asshole now.” “I’ll take a walk,” said Carlo.
“Dead fish, almost frozen. I hope it don’t take long.”
Chris Cocca is from Allentown, PA. His work has been published or is forthcoming at venues including Hobart, Brevity, Pindeldyboz, elimae, The Huffington Post, 8 Poems, Rejection Letters, Schuylkill Valley Journal, Perhappened, Anti-Heroin Chic, Feed, Appalachian Review, Bandit Fiction, Free Flash Fiction, The Shore, and Dodging the Rain. He is a recipient of the Creager Prize for Creative Writing at Ursinus College, and earned his MFA in Creative Writing at The New School.
