you're not gonna hurt her, are you?

her mother

made

me sit down with her father,

Angelo

from the old country,

and ask

for his permission to marry

his youngest

daughter. Delores.

i gulped and sat down

in the dark

corner of his little

man cave.

he put down his girly

magazine,

and his

Ballantine beer can,

and stroked his mustache.

he lit a cigar

and offered me one.

i said, no,

but he insisted.

i choked on the stale air,

my eyes watered

and my throat felt like it

was bleeding.

so tell me, boy, he said.

what do you want to ask me?

oh, nothing,

really.

i was just thinking that maybe

Linda and i could

get married

in the spring.

he sat up from his chair

and put his hand

on my knee.

you're not gonna hurt my

little girl are you?

because if you are i have

friends that will want to talk

to you.

capiche?

we stood up and he shook

my hand. don't worry son,

he said.

we'll get you a job down

at the docks

before the wedding.

then her mother called us in

for a plate of gnocchi and sausages.