My grandmother was an iron-willed woman, the feared matriarch of our New York family back in the 1950s. When I was five years old, she invited some friends and relatives to her Bronx apartment for a party. Among the guests was a neighborhood big shot who was doing well in business. His wife was proud of their social status and let everyone at the party know it. They had a little girl about my age who was spoiled and very much used to getting her own way. Grandmother spent a lot of time with the big shot and his family. She considered them the most important members of her social circle and worked hard at currying their favor. At one point during the party, I made my way to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. A minute or two later, the little girl opened the bathroom door and grandly walked in. I was still sitting down. "Don't you know that little girls aren't supposed to come into the bathroom when a little boy is using it!?" I hollered. The surprise of my being there, along with the indignation I had heaped upon her, stunned the little girl. Then she started to cry. She quickly closed the door, ran to the kitchen, and tearfully complained to her parents and my grandmother. Most of the partygoers had overheard my loud remark and were greatly amused by it. But not Grandmother. She was waiting for me when I left the bathroom. I received the longest, sharpest tongue-lashing of my young life. Grandmother yelled that I was impolite and rude and that I had insulted that nice little girl. The guests watched and winced in absolute silence. So forceful was my grandmother's personality that no one dared stand up for me. After her harangue was over and I had been dismissed, the party continued, but the atmosphere was much more subdued. Twenty minutes later, all that changed. Grandmother walked by the bathroom and noticed a torrent of water streaming out from under the door. She shrieked twice—first in astonishment, then in rage. She flung open the bathroom door and saw that the sink and tub were plugged up and that the faucets were going at full blast. Everyone knew who the culprit was. The guests quickly formed a protective barricade around me, but Grandmother was so furious that she almost got to me anyway, flailing her arms as if trying to swim over the crowd. Several strong men eventually moved her away and calmed her down, although she sputtered and fumed for quite a while. My grandfather took me by the hand and sat me on his lap in a chair near the window. He was a kind and gentle man, full of wisdom and patience. Rarely did he raise his voice to anyone, and never did he argue with his wife or defy her wishes. He looked at me with much curiosity, not at all angry or upset. "Tell me," he asked, "why did you do it?" "Well, she yelled at me for nothing," I said earnestly. "Now she's got something to yell about." Grandfather didn't speak right away. He just sat there, looking at me and smiling. "Eric," he said at last, "you are my revenge." 20世紀50年代我們家住在紐約，當時祖母是一家之主，也是一個令人敬畏的強悍女人。 我5歲那年，她邀請了一些親戚朋友到布朗克斯的公寓裏聚會。在客人中有個做生意發了財的大款，他的妻子神氣地向大家炫耀他們家的社會地位。他們有個嬌氣的小女兒，年紀跟我差不多，脾氣很蠻橫。 祖母殷勤地伺候着那個大款和他的家人，她把他們看作是她的社交圈裏最重要的人物，因此她不遺餘力地逢迎他們。 晚會進行中，我走進了洗手間並隨手把門關上。大概一兩分鐘後，我當時還坐在馬桶上，那個小女孩推開洗手間的門，大模大樣地走了進來。 “難道你不知道當一個男孩在使用洗手間的時候女孩子是不可以進來的嗎！？”我生氣地嚷着說。 聽到我生氣的吼聲，她一下子驚呆了，然後“哇”的一聲哭了起來。她飛快地關上門向廚房跑去，邊哭邊向她的父母和我的祖母告狀。 大多數的客人其實都聽到了我的怒罵聲，他們都被逗樂了，可祖母一點都沒笑。 當我從洗手間出來，祖母劈頭蓋臉地把我罵了一通，罵我沒禮貌、少教養、衝撞了那可愛的小女孩。客人們都在靜靜地看着，我的祖母實在太霸道了，根本沒有人敢爲我說話。 等她罵完叫我滾開之後，晚會繼續進行，但氣氛已經大大減弱。 可二十分鐘之後，一切全都變了。當祖母從洗手間走過的時候，她發現有股水流從門縫裏涌出來。 她先是驚異地叫了一聲，很快又憤怒地尖叫起來。她猛力地撞開洗手間的門，發現洗手盆和浴缸都被塞子塞住了，水龍頭被擰到最大，水正嘩啦啦地直流。 每個人都知道是誰搞的鬼，客人們馬上在我周圍形成了一堵人牆保護我。憤怒的祖母使勁地揮舞着雙手，樣子就像在人堆裏游泳一樣。好幾次她差點夠着我。 最後幾個魁梧的男人才把祖母制住，把她拉開讓她冷靜下來，但她還是氣急敗壞地嚷了好一陣子。 祖父這時走了過來，牽着我的手到靠窗的一張椅子上坐下，還把我抱到他的膝蓋上坐。祖父的性格好，脾氣也特別好。他很少提高嗓門和別人說話，也從來沒有和祖母吵架，也從來沒有違背過祖母的意願。 他很好奇地打量着我，沒有半點生氣或煩惱的樣子，“告訴我，”他說，“你爲什麼要這樣做呢？” “是這樣的，她先無緣無故地罵了我一頓，”我認真地說，“這回她罵我就有理由了！” 祖父沒有馬上說話，他只是坐在那兒，笑眯眯地看着我。 最後他終於開口說：“艾裏克，我的乖孫子，你總算替爺爺出了口氣！”
