Folio 26

For No Reason, Wallace Stevens…

How can I name you
if I do not know where
one mountain ends
and another begins?
How can I tell my children
of my navigable waterways
if I know not what they have been called?
The PINNACLE!
Is it?
LEVIATHAN!
Where?
What does the diocese
have to say about Diocletian?
People it. It is written.
People What? Hovel, burg, Metropolis, ghetto?
Come here with those lips
I think I know

~W.H. Smigiel

Ravioli

"Yes, right. ..next week, so...I'm really going to do it," said Ann and tears trickled down her cheeks. She kept the phone tightly in her grasp.
"Ok, I'll be ready. Ten o'clock. We have to finish...my mom is coming, so...thank you for helping me, Kate, bye, bye. OK, next Monday, bye," Ann abruptly ended the conversation and slammed down the phone in a hurry. She took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen. Her hands shook. She took one more deep breath and put her hand in the middle of the dough. She started to knead it in preparation of a dinner for her family. Michael, her husband, now at work, and their four boys gathered every day around the table for dinner at 5 o'clock.
"Hi, Ann. Anything new down your way?" Ann's mother said from the door. She removed her wet coat and put it in the closet. She changed her shoes so that her feet would dry. Ann's mother loved to visit and help her daughter with the housework. She loved Ann's small home-always warm, always clean and welcoming.
"Hi, mom," Ann said from the kitchen. Though only 3 p.m., she gave the impression of being rushed as she worked nervously with the dough.
"How do you feel today? This weather can make you tired. One day we have beautiful sun, the next day-heavy rain. However, I like rain. What about you, Ann?" said her mother, coming close to Ann. "You don't look well, Ann. You look sad. Are things getting you down?" she said looking straight at Ann's face.
Ann kept quiet and didn't look at her mother.
"Where are the children ?" her mother asked, trying to avoid the thoughts so uneasy to her. She knew that things were not going well for Ann. She would have to talk to Ann about her problem.
"They're playing in Mark's room. Charles, the neighbor's son, is with them," answered Ann, looking intently at the dough, kneading it, trying to avoid her mother's eyes.
"Charles, you mean the lovely ten-year-old boy from down the street? He's an only child. His parents can't have any more children, so he loves to play with your boys," said her mother as she placed her bag on the chair. She moved slowly toward Ann. "My dear, how are you today?" she asked, looking at Ann's white face.
Ann kept her eyes on her hands, working more intensely with the dough. "I'm fine, mom. I'm fine, and I hope everything will be fine." Ann shook the flour from her hand. "I am fine," she added with a quivering voice.
"So, we'll have ravioli today. The children like it a lot. I'll help you," her mother said putting on the apron.
"Thank you, mom. You're always here at the right time. Michael's coming from work, and I'm not ready with dinner. This morning I was with Tony at the doctor's, just to check his arm." Ann tried to calm her voice.
"And what?" asked her mother, bringing the bowls with the ravioli filling to the table.
"Everything seems to be OK," answered Ann as she filled the first ravioli.
"See, you were so worried. I told you he would be OK I'm so glad that we're having ravioli. I'm so hungry, Ann. ..and the soup smells wonderful! Ann, I'm so proud of you. You're such a good mom and wife," she said, looking at Ann. She stopped her work.
Ann paled. Her hands were shaking again.
"Yes. Mom. No. I'm not," she said, and her eyes filled again with tears.
"Ann, I really don't know how to tell you this... but I washed your coat...and I know that you'll need me Would you mind telling me what you want to do Monday?"
"Mom. What do you mean?" Ann turned her face and looked at her mother with fear-her large eyes fixed in panic on her mother's face.
"Ann, I was going to wash your coat yesterday, but before I did it, I checked its pockets, and I found a small doctor's note about your Monday appointment. I know you wouldn't go. Ann, you cannot. I love you. This isn't the kind of thing we should be doing, Ann." Her voice sounded encouraging. Her mother's arms embraced her, but Ann stepped away.
"You don't want to do it, for it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Am I right, Ann? Will you be able to handle it?" Her mother's voice betrayed a deep concern. She was more than aware of the difficult situation. Finding the note with the doctor's appointment on it flustered her, but she decided to talk to Ann without pushing her into a worse situation.
"Mom, I can't believe what you said. I don't need to hear it. Some things are better left unsaid." Ann closed her eyes and sat on the kitchen chair. She tried to calm herself. "Do you understand? No! You don't! You don't know. Michael doesn't want this child. He wouldn't understand. I love him, and I love my children. But I don't want any more. We don't want any more. ..That's the way it's going to be." Her face turned red. She cried. Her eyes hardly saw the next ravioli she struggled to make.
" Are you really going to do something silly? Do you expect me to believe this? I guess not," her mother said.
"Besides, things are looking bad for us financially. Don't you know? Don't you understand the situation? Do you realize what I have to do? I'm really tired of all this." Ann seemed to say the last words to herself.
"Don't become anxious. Everything will be all right." Ann's mother tried to comfort Ann; however, her own words seemed empty and powerless.
The door opened and Michael appeared.
"Hi, ladies. Mom, nice to see you! I finally got here. What weather! I'm starving and something smells good!" said Michael, entering the warm kitchen. He approached Ann and touched her shoulders, his face bent down meeting Ann's face.
"When do we eat?" said Michael with his joyful, welcoming voice. He felt Ann's tears. She turned her face and started weeping again.
"Ann, what happened? Why are you crying? What's wrong? You look just terrible." He was completely ignorant of the situation.
Ann remained silent. She felt her heart beating wildly in her chest. She tried to control herself.
"I'm too busy to talk to you now, Michael," said Ann, but her voice betrayed her hesitation.
"Mom, can you tell me?" Michael asked.
"You two should talk," her mother answered and left the kitchen.
"No, no, no," Ann clenched the dough between her fingers.
"Ann, tell me, please!" Michael looked at her eyes. "Tell me, my dear."
"Michael, I'm pregnant."
He closed his eyes for a moment as if relieved. After a while, Ann, embraced by Michael, felt his heart beating next to hers.
"My dearest Ann...don't cry...you'll just have to make a few more ravioli."

~Sister Edith Gardas

~Joseph M. Klein III