Words Without Borders publishes an excerpt from Carmine Abate's The Homecoming Party
After lunch, my grandmother always insisted we go take a nap. I would stretch out on the little bed with my eyes closed and as soon as her breathing slowed, I’d go downstairs and straight out the sea door. There was never anyone around. The road and the beach were empty, and the town seemed to be sleeping too. Occasionally the desolate cry of a seagull echoed across the water, frightening me.
One day, as I was walking toward the beach, I spotted the man with salt-and-pepper hair again: he was sitting on the sand, in the shade, leaning against a boat.
It was the second time I’d run into him, although I’d often seen the tall lady who enjoyed chatting with my grandmother.
“At last,” said the man. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
From The Homecoming Party by Carmine Abate
Read the complete excerpt on Words Without Borders
One day, as I was walking toward the beach, I spotted the man with salt-and-pepper hair again: he was sitting on the sand, in the shade, leaning against a boat.
It was the second time I’d run into him, although I’d often seen the tall lady who enjoyed chatting with my grandmother.
“At last,” said the man. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
From The Homecoming Party by Carmine Abate
Read the complete excerpt on Words Without Borders