The New York Window

Submitted into Contest #57 in response to: Write a story about someone breaking a long family tradition.... view prompt

40 comments

Drama American Teens & Young Adult

Mamma throws open the window, blasting hot air into our apartment. She twists the knob on the radio, and Italian music threads its way onto the gray streets of New York. Abruptly losing all self-control, she breaks into a dance. Hips swaying, fingers snapping, lips humming. Her mouth forms the unfamiliar lyrics like she has heard the song all her life. 

Wrapping an apron around herself, she bounces over to the kitchen, inhaling sweet fruit and salty nuts. The oven opens, and I spy my favorite dessert on a rusted metal tray. Delicately sliding it out, Mamma whirls around and shoves it in my direction. 

Panforte?” she offers thoughtlessly. 

“Nah,” I answer, my eyes still fixed at the window. She sets the tray down on the table, stepping carefully over the bench and seating herself across from me. I bite my tongue to the point of blood because I can’t resist the dessert. Mamma raises a single eyebrow, a talent I wish I had, and glares at me with those deep brown eyes. “Non,” I correct myself, my shaking hand pushing the tray away. 

Avoiding her eyes, I clumsily stand and make my way to the window. I can feel her frown burning on the back of my head. Blistering heat prickles my arms. I ignore it and look down at the silver city. One last time. 

Apparently, Mamma wasn’t done scolding. “You speak English too much, mio cara, just like all bambini italiani these days. Soon italiano will be your only language. Stiamo andando a casa!” She continues mumbling to herself about Italy and Italian children and how we aren’t being brought up the traditional way. I tune out almost immediately. 

Gazing out the window, I see the little park across the street. It has chain-link fences and grass sprouting in one area. It is my favorite park—probably the thing I’d miss most about New York. Parco delle Stelle is what I called it as a child. Park of Stars. I had named it that because someone had littered the park with large metal stars that shined in the daylight. The stars look like they were from a baby’s mobile. 

I unfocus my eyes and see myself in the stained glass. Mamma calls me bellissima all the time, but I don’t think I’m beautiful. Besides, it doesn’t count when mothers say it. I stare into my own dark eyes, curling a long finger around my hickory colored hair. Although I’d never admit it to anyone, I don’t like being Italian. I wish I was fully American, with American parents who wouldn’t be forcing me to move back to my home country. I knock my head against the windowpane, shutting my eyes and hoping everything I know will disappear. 

But everyone knows life doesn’t work like that. 

Mirabelle,” Mamma sings, tapping her foot against the floor. “Stiamo andando a casa! We are going home! Come sit with me.” It was a command. 

I back away from the window, exhaling slowly. Slipping back into my seat, I purse my lips. “Sì.” 

“What is wrong, mio cara?” 

“Mamma!” I exclaim, slamming my hands down onto the table. “Can’t you see? I don’t want to go to Italia!” 

Mamma blinks and in one swift movement grabs my wrists. She pins them onto the table. “Mirabelle. You do not speak like that to your Mamma!” The veins in her forehead pulse. Her grip on my wrists tightens. My fingers start to throb. “It is tradizione di famiglia! Every child of our family starts in America, then they move back to Italia because that is their home. Are you saying you do not want to go home?”

With my jaw set, I lock eyes with her. “Yes.” 

Her breathing quickens. She stumbles up from her seat. Swallowing visibly, she makes her way over to the door. “Mia figlia è pazza,” she mumbles before turning the doorknob and tripping into her bedroom. She slams it behind her. 

My daughter is crazy. I cradle my head in my hands. ‘Italy is my home’ is what I want to say. The lie tastes bitter in my mouth. 

Car honks and loud voices drift through the window. I let my eyes wander, curiously searching out the window for anything that could cheer me up. I see the corner of Parco delle Stelle. Moving towards the window, the entirety of it comes into view. Toddlers are grabbing at the metal stars, allowing the sharp edges to scrape them. They glint in the peach afternoon light. Those small, soft fingers are collecting all the stars. Anger pulls at the ends of my hair. These people and their toddlers obviously aren’t from around here. Why are they taking the stars? Those stars have been there for twelve straight years. 

Hey! I want to shout, Control your children! But I can’t bring myself to do it. After all, I’m about to leave this place anyways. Everyone’s touched one of the stars at least once. I can’t be a hypocrite. 

A wave of regret washes over me. I shouldn’t have spoken to Mamma like that. She sacrificed everything to raise me. My heart aches and forces my feet forward. Step by step, and suddenly I’m at her door. I knock before entering. 

The room is a walk down memory lane although I’m in it almost every day. A mattress lies on the far side, a blanket spread over it. The walls and floors are bare, with only a small pile of clothes in the corner. There is one window that has a view of a reddish brick wall. 

Mamma is lying face-down on the mattress. 

“Mamma,” I steady my gaze on her. “Mi dispiace.” I’m sorry. 

She rolls around and finally settles on her side. Her face is smooth stone—expressionless. “That didn’t take long,” she says. I gulp. Her eyes flick to mine. “Going back to Italia is what our family does. Generations of our family have started in America then ended their life in Italia—” she cuts herself off, her face twisting with confusion. Finally, she sits up in bed. “What am I saying, Mirabelle? If you want to stay, I do too.” 

I take a small step back. “Che cosa?” 

Mamma smiles slightly at my surprise but then frowns at my Italian. “Speak English, my dear. Besides, you’ll want to practice it more because we’re staying.” Her accent is thick but it welcomes me. 

“Yes, Mamma, yes!” I cry, and dive into her bear hug. I tangle my hands in her hair and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Thank you!” 

Mamma giggles. “Your English is better than mine, my dear. You will have to teach me more.” 

Chuckling to myself, I pull away and sit on the bed next to her. Taking her hand, I see her glancing at the smile playing on my lips. She squeezes mine affectionately. “Thank you, Mamma,” I repeat. “Now,” I stand, “let’s go celebrate our staying in New York by devouring your Panforte!” 

“Yes,” Mamma agrees, and follows me out of the room. 

By then, I could already taste the nutty sweet confection swirling inside my mouth. 

August 29, 2020 14:12

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40 comments

Zilla Babbitt
01:01 Sep 01, 2020

You asked me to read, so here I am. Um, this is really good. I remember you saying you're like twelve? Young for this quality. Descriptions are good, dialogue is good, and I related to the characters. You could add a category, funny, since this is. First, I wouldn't have so much Italian. It's a lovely language but since this is in English it's distracting. I would have the mother's dialogue all in English and then say in the dialogue tag that she's speaking in Italian. Then in the daughter's dialogue, you can put in words and phrases and ...

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Scout Tahoe
01:29 Sep 01, 2020

I can't express words for how grateful I am that you read my story. It means a lot coming from the person who's submitted 161 stories and won twice. Your advice is really valuable. I'm actually not twelve, but I'm really trying to get better at writing. I'm part Italian, so maybe I went a bit overboard. But I'll try to edit it if I can. Yes, I should've either made it span over a couple of days, or implied that the mother had wanted to stay all along. Also, because your titles are perfect, if you have any ideas how to name this, I'd ...

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Zilla Babbitt
00:25 Sep 10, 2020

Just realized I never responded to this, sorry! A huge part is reading, of course. I also read poetry and listen to poetic music like Florence and the Machine. That helps too. So does color, like greenery and visiting museums.

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Scout Tahoe
00:40 Sep 10, 2020

Haha, it’s okay! Thank you!

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Zilla Babbitt
00:24 Sep 10, 2020

I got this for critique circle! As I've already commented I'll just say you're really good and to keep it up.

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Scout Tahoe
00:40 Sep 10, 2020

Thanks! I got your story for critique circle too. I’ll stop by soon. :)

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Zilla Babbitt
01:00 Sep 10, 2020

Yay!

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Scout Tahoe
18:04 Aug 30, 2020

Hello readers, I'm not sure if I like this title. It's good, but I think I can do better. If any of you have any ideas, feel free to share them with me. Thanks!

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Lynn Penny
01:24 Sep 04, 2020

This was pretty awesome. I think adding the Italian was a good idea, but there were some parts that were a bit confusing. You did really well in most parts where It was easy to tell what your Italian meant, so that would be a factor for when adding a second language into your writing. Or additionally if there is a Italian word you really want to add, put a translation into brackets. On another note, you developed a wonderful character and showed a lovely relationship between a mother and child. Wonderful job, please keep writing.

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Scout Tahoe
02:06 Sep 04, 2020

Thank you! Many people have told me the Italian is confusing, so the next time I think about including a language in my writing, I'll keep that in mind. Brackets is a good idea. Thanks again for reading and commenting. I'll keep writing if you do too!

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E.N. Holder
01:11 Sep 01, 2020

I love this story, you are a great storyteller and really bring the story to life with the details!

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Scout Tahoe
01:32 Sep 01, 2020

Thank you so much for commenting. I'd be happy to check out one of your stories if you like.

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E.N. Holder
01:39 Sep 01, 2020

That would be awesome thanks!

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Hriday Saboo
06:23 Aug 31, 2020

A brilliant story as usual. Do read my new story and like the story if you really liked it

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Scout Tahoe
13:38 Aug 31, 2020

Thank you, Hriday. I'm sure I'll love your story.

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Hriday Saboo
13:40 Aug 31, 2020

Thanks

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Rebecca Lee
03:50 Aug 30, 2020

Well, I liked it. No, I really liked it. You do descriptives well, and dialogue was smooth, and the transitions were good. I always tell everyone to go back and reread a story though. Reread it through the eyes of someone you respect - a former teacher, afamily member and/or a coworker ... And then edit. There will always be editing to be done until the very last page is being sent out. And then once a story is published, you will come up with something. Don't stress ever because you have great skills. Would you come on over and read some of...

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Scout Tahoe
04:25 Aug 30, 2020

Thank you for the kind comment. Rereading it through the eyes of an elder is what I do too! Of course I'll check out your stories when I have time.

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Rebecca Lee
18:29 Aug 30, 2020

Hey, I got your message about the title. The New York Window is fine, but if you wanted to adjust it to the "changes" in their lives - The Open Window - it kind of plays on the adventure that waits or the journey that waits?

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Scout Tahoe
18:45 Aug 30, 2020

Ooh I like it. I’ll consider. Thank you so much for the idea!

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Genevieve Taylor
17:42 Aug 29, 2020

Aghhh Scout this is incredible! I love the dialog and, as always, your description. I adore your writing style. The Italian parts are great. I love how you wrapped it all back up to the Panforte in the end. Great job! Stay safe and keep writing! xoxo, Vieve

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Scout Tahoe
18:30 Aug 29, 2020

Vieve, I always love your comments. Thank you!

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Ohmygosh, I loved this!!! Your writing style is so awesome...I really enjoyed the touches of French throughout the story. Terrific job, Scout! Keep writing!!

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Scout Tahoe
17:06 Aug 29, 2020

Thanks so much for commenting, Aerin. Actually, the language in my story is Italian, but I appreciate you noticing. ;)

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Ohhh sorry I knew that I just blanked ;)

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Zea Bowman
01:52 Sep 22, 2020

Wow! I was truly captivated by this story! Your descriptions were amazing, and the words seemed to flow together. You really have a knack for writing! Could you please come read a story (or stories) of mine? Thanks! Keep up the good work! :)

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Scout Tahoe
02:30 Sep 22, 2020

Hey Zea, thanks for stopping by. Your comment was very kind and I'd be happy to stop by whenever I get time. Thanks again!

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Meggy House
22:06 Sep 07, 2020

Oh my goodness this is so nice. As my parents are immigrants, the culture blend in this was executed wonderfully and poignantly. I like the Italian but some of the words were hard: could you maybe describe some of the desserts so it is clear what is being referred to or include a translation in brackets? Outside of that, it was so beautifully well-written! If you wouldn't mind, could you read one of my stories? This is my first time in a competition and I would love feedback! :)

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Scout Tahoe
01:22 Sep 08, 2020

Thanks! Of course, when I have time.

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12:30 Sep 05, 2020

I loved your story. I can vividly imagine the details in my mind. Can you also read my story, "The Foolish Painting". Thanks and I really loved your story. Keep it up!

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Scout Tahoe
13:49 Sep 05, 2020

Thanks! I’d love to read your story.

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. .
04:09 Sep 01, 2020

Great story, I love the descriptions!

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Scout Tahoe
04:21 Sep 01, 2020

Thanks! :)

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. .
04:25 Sep 01, 2020

Np

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Scout Tahoe
04:27 Sep 01, 2020

Your stories are really good, btw

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. .
04:31 Sep 01, 2020

thanks!

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Tariq Saeed
18:23 Aug 31, 2020

Scout,u look a good reader,comments on my story.

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Scout Tahoe
18:47 Aug 31, 2020

Thanks. Sure!

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Faith Hunter
02:58 Aug 31, 2020

I really liked this story. Great job! -Faith

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Scout Tahoe
03:06 Aug 31, 2020

Faith, thanks so much for commenting.

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