hey! what are you doing here?
i gotta pain in my left side, and my leg throbs like a drum.
i gotta pains in my shoulder too. i have a pain in my hip, and my right arm aches so much i can't sleep. it's a curse to be old. how you feel?
that's nice.
that's nice. i gotta letter from my husband's cousin in abruzzi. his mother died.
do you remember emilio digiorgio, owned the tavern in abruzzi?
well, he died. you know who else died?
you know the old man upstairs in this house. old irishman, always drunk. he got pleurisy. he was inna hospital two weeks. he died yesterday.
i wake up this morning, i hear the baby crying. so i wake up. i come in their room. that girl is shaking her hand atta baby. i said, "you brute! don't you strike that baby! that's my son's baby!"
that's my son thomas's baby.
did i tell you she threw the bottle- a milk at me?
she's a witch, that one. i tell you what happen yesterday?
she gave me the evil eye.
i keep one eye open when i sleep, because she's gonna come in, stab me in my bed.
ah?
who?
when was this?
what they say?
my son thomas came to see you this afternoon, and he said to you he wants to cast his mother from his house?
so i am an old garbage bag, put inna street.
it pains that they should do this.
these are the worst years, i tell you.
these are the worst years. i tell you. it's gonna happen to you. i'm afraida look inna mirror. i'm afraid i'm gonna see an old lady with white hair, like the old ladies inna park, little bundles inna black shawl, waiting for the coffin. i'm fifty- six years old. what am i to do with myself? i have strength in my hands. i wanna cook. i wanna clean. i wanna make dinner for my children. am i an old dog to lie in fronta the fire til my eyes close? these are the terrible years, theresa! terrible years!
it's gonna happen to you! it's gonna happen to you! what will you do if marty gets married?! what will you cook? what happen to alla children playing in alla rooms? where is the noise?! it is a curse to be a widow! a curse. what will you do if marty gets married?! what will you do?
i will put my clothes inna bag, and i will come to you tomorrow.
hey, will you go to mass, please. this one, he woke up this morning with salt in his nose. do this! do that! will you leave me in peace, ah?
i was at mass two hours ago.
who?
your son marty?
were the lights on?
they're the worst. college girls are one step from the streets. they smoke like men inna saloon. my son joseph, his wife, you know, she types onna typewriter. one step from the streets, i tell you. mrs. pilletti ponders this philosophy for a moment.
well, that's all. you will see. today, tomorrow, inna week, he's gonna say to you, "hey, ma, it's no good being a single man. i'm tired-a running around." then he's gonna say, "hey, ma, wadda we need this old house? why don't we sell this old house, move into a nicer parta town? a nice little apartment?"
you will see. a coupla months, you gonna be an old lady, sleeping onna couch in her daughter-in-law's house.