another attack.

there is a strange atmosphere tonight as i come home. an almost cheery mood is spread along the rooms, and a strange half-smile plays on my mother’s lips. actually it is not that strange. it is one of those smiles that tells me that “there is something to be said”, “there are some interesting developments” “there are words” kind of thing.

i cringe a bit inside. whenever my parents have these type of smiles playing on their lips, something is going on. and it is usually something that they need my help with. and something i will not like to help with. but that i have to do. for the sake of my parents. for the sake of family.

it usually involves a “new” piece of furniture, or a new telephone conversation my father has had with those nice girls at telemarketing. or an “El Gordo” lottery letter which invites me to claim 896,563 EURO in Spain, right after i submit my bank account and routing number. and don’t forget the social security number.

i sit down to eat and nobody approaches me. i count myself lucky.  maybe somebody’s wife gave birth to somebody or maybe my mom won $20.00 at scratch games. she usually wins enough to make my dad play again until they lose the won money.

again, i sit down in front of the computer and start adding and subtracting the budget. i hate the whole thing, but somebody has to do it. not that i am any good with it. after 15 minutes of mixing up my simple account, including the penny change and still coming up -$200.00, i give up and surf on facebook. i got karma, drinks, kisses, smiles, even a thrown book. nice.

i am basking on the virtual love of friends i have never met in person, when my mom approaches. i can feel the smile radiating from the back of my head.

‘well’ she says, ‘i got another delivery today’ and shows me a white envelope.  what can it be? i see her take a picture out of it and with a sinking heart i take it, not needing to listen to the explanation:

‘i did not even ask for it, but the sister has seen you somewhere. and it is a nice guy, now in Albania, but he’s lived in Italy too, you know. and he’s still single. and he is handsome.’

what can i possibly say to my mother? the most humiliating thing is that i actually look at the picture, and the guy seems really cute. tall, dark hair,  white skin, sitting in the de rigueur Albanian emigrant pose, in front of some steps and an old looking building somewhere in Europe? whatever, at least it is not in front of a Harley or a Benz or a Vespa or even a Mountain Bike. be still my heart, a worldy man.

if i say yes, maybe i’ll be engaged by the summer, married by fall, and have children by next spring. he’ll be near his sister and have his papers too. and we’ll both have it made. ahh the Albanian-American dream.

i give the picture back to my mother, and start to compose a very grissly and especially bloody/gory Valentine’s story in my head. featuring a tall, good looking stranger with fair skin and dark hair, fresh-of-the-boat, who meets his fiance for the first time. a good girl whose hobbies  include crochet, cooking and dismembering young men with dark hair and fair skin. and fake tom cruise sun glasses.

17 thoughts on “another attack.

  1. blete,

    I love your family stories. They are so … cute, lovely and … some more … 🙂 They love you. One of my oncles used to say: “love can be wrong smtimes, but still …. it is love. Forgive us!”

    Why has to be albanian? Why not simply a man, a man you love? As simple as that? Could it be that the albanians in NYC got trapped in the community pressure? It is my impression, that you guys in NYC live smhow in an albanian reality; cultivating
    old prejudices, gossips, demands, games, hierarchy; only the background is different. It reminds me the old photo-studios; one was put in front of a beautiful background, selling illusions. It could be paralizing, though. But … just a thought and, probably, very wrong🙂

    Waiting for the V-day story🙂

  2. E me mire dhe ti,
    Mos i bjer fatit me shqelm:-). Fati troket i here, dy here, po sdo rri te merret me ty🙂
    Shife mi i here cunin, mesoji dhe blogsferen edhe vere te komentoje, dhe me ket rast i shikon edhe mendjen. Ca do me teper ti🙂 hahaha
    Mire qe ste ka zene statusi “single” ne Shqiperi mooooj.
    Se pakten atje ku je mamaja jote ngushellon veten qe eh, eshte larg shqiperise, ska faj goca e shkrete, ku ti gjeje ketu cunat e mire. Jo po mungesa e shqiptareve, jo po diferencat kulturore me amerikanet, jo po kshu po po ashtu.
    Por po te ishe ne Shqiperi cdo te te gjente🙂, me ca justifikimi do ta ktheje mbrapsh foton mi. Ose do pranoje aty ne shesh te ‘grave” qe kam te dashur dhe te perballoje pyetje te tipit pse smartohesh me te, qysh e tek. Ose pastaj do pranoje qe je budallaqe se sje aq e zonja ta gjesh vete, e as pranon ate qe te gjen familja. Hahahhaha

    Self, nga nje veshtrim i imi (jo fort i thelle ne fakt) tek albanians in NYC, ajo cka dyshon ti, eshte krejt e vertete.

  3. BZzzz, “beja” qejfin mames dhe bej pak gallate me kete tipin e shetitur se nuk eshte keq kur nxiten fantazite njerezore. Te pakten shkembe nja dy telefonata – kushedi se c’aksent do te degjosh. Pastaj “gjymtoje” :)))))))

  4. Ca fati ka tjetri… I postum me zarf ne USA…😀

    Sa kane ndryshuar kohet aman… Se me kujtoi Lendinen e Loteve kjo pjesa…

    Shume e forte… Blete… Me pelqejne jashtezakonisht keto historite😀

  5. Hey girl, don’t give up yet! I want to believe that something good and marvelous will happen to a sweet and wonderful person like you, so be faithful!

    Tell your mom to leave the pictures aside for a while until you go home for the summer:))

    Hugs!

  6. oj oj na mbyten fotot dhe aludimet neper tel… shyqyr qe jemi larg vertete ndryshe nje muhabet do qe mengjes dreke darke…
    eksperiencat jashte dhe pseudo shkollimi jane faktore vendimtar, se fundi fundit c’te keqe ka nese e provon?🙂
    patience is a virtue, i guess

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