"What kind of oven does your mother use? Gas or electric?"
"Electric", I answered with a smile, without hesitating, thinking back to the bread, the pizza, the tarts and the cakes she had made for me since I was a child. As soon as I was about to finish one, she was ready with another. Getting up a couple of hours earlier in the morning, if necessary, just so I would never go without.
Linda raised her eyebrows: "I knew it. Women who work outside the home don't have time to look after the house. They have to find quick solutions. I only use a gas oven. Of course, it takes effort and attention, but things have to be done properly. But of course, if you have to go to work, you don't think about these things and you neglect the house."
Puzzled, I smiled.
One morning, Linda's husband felt unwell. He was at work, as always, and he was very stressed. He had a sharp pain in one leg and was taken straight to the hospital. He wasn't young anymore, and that kind of pain could mean many things: his colleague decided not to take any chances and put him straight into the car. When they arrived at the hospital, they immediately realised the situation was fairly serious: his life wasn't at risk, but that pain had to be treated right away to avoid worse problems. My parents were already there, and I arrived shortly after. Only Linda was missing. The doctor decided to call her, reassuring her and explaining the situation. "Do I have to come right now? I've just got everything ready to mop the floors and I don't want to leave the house upside down." The doctor's insistence convinced her to come. I rushed to her house to pick her up. She came out slamming the door. "Do you think it'll take long? I've got things to do, you know!" We reached the hospital in a few minutes. Standing in front of her husband, she asked him how he felt. "Fine, don't worry. I'm fine." The doctor was of a very different opinion: "Your husband needs rest and some tests. We'll keep him here for a couple of hours, under observation, while we wait for the results. Then he can go home, but he'll need to be back here tomorrow morning at 8 for further checks." Linda looked at us: "Can you bring him?" The doctor frowned. "Or... does it really have to be at 8, doctor? Because tomorrow I'd planned a deep clean of the house and I wouldn't want to change my plans. Could we come a little earlier, so I can get back home and carry on?" The doctor looked at the patient, who nodded, resigned. "Signora, you don't understand. This is serious!" Linda lowered her eyes, then raised them again: "Doctor, I have to go home! I left everything upside down, I have to tidy up! I can't leave the house like that! Can I come back to pick him up when it's time for him to go home?" She turned to me, without giving anyone a chance to answer: "Will you take me home? I've got so much to do!"
The phone kept ringing. It was Linda.
I didn't want to answer. This time, she had really, really gone too far. Eventually, I picked up. Her voice had aged, of course, but her insistence hadn't changed one bit. "Yes, Linda?"
"You know why I'm calling. Maybe I went too far. So many years of friendship, ruined by one sentence that came out wrong?"
"No, Linda. I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, but nothing can go back to the way it was. Some words can't be taken back. Especially when they're about my mother."
An indecipherable sound came from the receiver. "I see. I'm going to clean the house. After all, what could I expect from the son of a woman who uses an electric oven?"
