‘Just stop getting older. You’re making me feel really ancient. Now, where is your wife?’
‘I’m here, Aunty Cibi.’ A beaming Pam kneels beside her husband and holds both of Cibi’s hands in her own.
‘She doesn’t look any older,’ Cibi says to Odie. ‘But she is even more beautiful.’
‘Aunty,’ says Pam. ‘Odie and I have something very special to show you, all of you, later.’
‘You can’t show me now?’
‘No, you’ll have to be patient, but I can get you something to eat,’ Pam offers.
‘A glass of red wine would be nice.’
Livi looks around her home. Every inch of the large dining table is covered with plates of food. Glasses are being filled, small hands sneak into bowls of fruit, crisps, small cakes, and snatch the food away.
Cibi’s great-granddaughter is crying. ‘Will you take her?’ her granddaughter asks, thrusting a squealing baby into Cibi’s arms.
The baby reaches a fat hand for Cibi’s glass of wine.
‘You’re too young for that, but in a few years come and see me,’ Cibi says to the one-year-old.
‘You won’t be around when she is old enough to drink.’ Livi laughs.
Livi weaves her way through her family, ducking as Yossi throws his eight-year-old granddaughter in the air. The young adults, the third generation of the family, have escaped onto the balcony.
‘Mind if an old girl joins you?’ Livi asks her grandson, stepping outside.
‘Ema, I will be old before you are,’ he says, taking his petite grandmother in his arms and lifting her off her feet.
‘Have you seen all the food in there?’ Livi says.
‘It’s about normal,’ her granddaughter says. ‘You know we’ll eat it all, don’t you?’
‘Hey, I’m hoping we don’t eat it all so I can take some away. I rely on these family gatherings to feed me for a week,’ her cousin insists.
‘I will leave you to talk about whatever it is young people talk about these days,’ Livi says, as she turns to go back inside.
‘We talk about what you and your sisters talked about at our age.’
‘That’s what worries me, and that’s why I am leaving.’
Ziggy grabs her as she comes back inside, placing a loving arm around her waist. ‘Come and get something to eat. God knows there’s enough food,’ he says.
‘So much noise, Ziggy. I don’t know if I love it or hate it,’ Livi says, leaning into him.
‘You love it – always have, always will.’
‘I will put some food on a plate and go and talk to Magda. Everyone is standing up and she is the only one sitting down,’ Livi says.
‘Cibi’s sitting.’
‘Cibi’s in a wheelchair.’
Livi drags a chair next to Magda. Without an invitation, Magda begins to pick from the plate. ‘Cibi doesn’t look good,’ she says.
‘If only she would get out of that wheelchair and use her legs, she would get better much faster,’ Livi replies.
‘Ema, Aunty Amara and Uncle Udom are here!’ Dorit yells from the other side of the apartment.
Livi looks round to see her daughter wrap her arms around Amara, her friend from the orange groves, the shy girl who introduced her to dates. Her husband, Udom, is holding a huge plate of falafels and a small wicker basket of dates.
‘Take the plate, Dorit,’ Livi yells back, rising from her chair and making her way across the room. ‘Now the whole family is here.’ Livi beams as she hugs her old friend.
‘I think Odie wants your attention,’ says Amara.
Odie is clinking a knife against his glass, asking for quiet. The chatter in the room rises in volume as each person tells the one next to them to be silent.
The young adults step inside the room, and the younger children immediately seize their opportunity to claim the balcony for themselves.
‘Ema, Aunty Magda, would you please come and sit next to Aunty Cibi?’ Odie says.
The three sisters sit side by side at the front of the room.
Odie reaches for Pam’s hand. ‘Pam and I are so happy to be here with you all and we thank you so much for coming. I want to take this moment to show you something very special.’
‘What is it?’ Cibi says, in a loud whisper to Livi.
‘Let’s just all wait and see,’ Livi tells her.
‘Pam and I have been working on a glass sculpture for a long time now. It is currently on display in an exhibition called “WAR Light Within/After the Darkness” at a gallery in Toronto. We called it The Miracle of Three Sisters.’