Elizabeth Street Part 37

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1909.

Rocco sent for Lucrezia. It was the second time in two days that he'd become frightened his wife was going to die. She still wouldn't go to the hospital. Medically, Lucrezia couldn't explain why Giovanna was delirious, but she supposed that if Giovanna spoke to her honestly, the reason would become evident. All Lucrezia could do was sedate Giovanna, and her secrets.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1909.

"Leo, she's a witch! Let's get rid of the kid!" fumed the younger of the Gallucci brothers.

"Stop moaning," commanded Leo, who had met them on a street corner.

"You're not the one whose skin is blistered. I'm going to be scarred!" said the older Gallucci brother.

"You got a rash, that's all," dismissed Leo.

"Then how come she knows about it?"

"Because she's probably following you, you idiots. I told you to be careful."

"Leo," said the younger brother, trying to play the reasonable one of the two, "we need to tell Lupo everything this crazy lady knows."

"You want to get killed? You think Lupo would be happy knowing we were followed?"

The older Gallucci looked skeptically at Leo. "What's going on here, Leo? Who's Edwin Reese anyway?"

"How should I know? She's nuts. Lupo said to not touch the kid if we keep getting money. And that's what you'll do."

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1909.

"Come on, girl, see the snow."

The woman was holding the door to the room open. Angelina's eyes tried to adjust to the light, but she was blinded by the glare on the snow.

With the other children next to her, Angelina gazed out the door, her hands s.h.i.+elding her eyes. A few feet already blanketed the ground, and it was still snowing.

"America is brutta," scoffed one of the women.

"I like the snow," replied the other.

"But you can't go out. You can't move."

"Where can we go with this kid anyway?"

"It won't be much longer."

Angelina always tried to listen to them but had a hard time with their accents, especially when they spoke quickly, as they were doing now. But she guessed that the conversation had something to do with her, and she tried to make herself invisible.

"Mamma, can we go out?" pleaded one of the children.

"Let them go," said the younger woman.

"I'll light a fire. They won't last but a few minutes."

She opened the door and shooed the children out, leaving Angelina behind.

"Signora, please, can I go, too?"

Ignoring Angelina, she turned to the other woman and shrugged. "She can't run away, she'll sink in the snow."

"Va bene. Go, go," she commanded, pus.h.i.+ng Angelina out the door and closing it.

The other children giggled, trying to walk. Angelina threw herself into a drift. Her skin always felt like it was on fire. The snow stopped the itching of the bug bites and put the fire out. She was clean in the snow; it didn't matter to her that she was frigid and s.h.i.+vering. Opening her mouth, she gulped in great swallows. She rubbed her hair and scalp, which also felt like it was aflame, in the icy crystals. Rolling back and forth, back and forth, she cooled and cleaned her body until a strong pair of hands gripped her waist.

A wet slap landed on Angelina's face. "What are you, pazza? You can't get sick. We didn't feed you all these months for nothing."

"Get her inside," shouted the other woman from the door.

The women stripped off her clothes in front of the fire. It was the first time they had been removed, and her petticoat was nearly shredded. Hanging her clothes near the flames, they shooed her naked into her room and slammed the door.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1909.

A savage wind whipped at the windows of 202 Elizabeth Street. After two days of snow it was beginning to rain, but rather than melt the snow, the rain covered it in a crust of ice.

The baby was coming. Giovanna wanted to hold out as long as she could before calling Lucrezia; she was worried that the more time Lucrezia spent in the apartment the greater the risk that someone would slip and say something. Finally, she could wait no longer, and Rocco left to get the midwife.

The weather was too horrid to send the children down the block to Lorenzo's apartment. Instead, everyone, including Rocco, huddled in the children's tiny room and left the kitchen and bedroom to the laboring woman and midwife.

Lucrezia didn't see the same kind of determination in Giovanna's labor that she had with the first baby. Although that could be explained by the sedatives and two weeks in bed, she figured it had more to do with the unspoken horror that had made Giovanna construct this strange altar in the bedroom topped by Saint Anthony. Lucrezia found the story about Angelina being in Italy hard to believe. But the idea that Angelina had been taken from Giovanna was also too terrible to fathom.

Because pain makes truth harder to hide, many times in the middle of a contraction Giovanna wanted to confess to Lucrezia the inner torment that had nothing to do with pus.h.i.+ng this baby out of her body. She longed to birth her baby and her secrets at the same time. The pain of needing Lucrezia so badly was indistinguishable from the labor. But between contractions, it didn't matter. Lucrezia was not family. No longer could they trust anyone who was not of their flesh and blood.

It was nearly dawn when her son emerged. Her long, difficult labor had mimicked the storm raging outside the windows. Giovanna had been so certain that the baby was a boy that she was taken aback by Rocco's surprise and excitement. After Lucrezia had cleaned the child and the birth area, the children crowded around the bed. From the moment Lucrezia put the fair boy in Giovanna's arms she was heartened. No one was trying to replace Angelina. At the foot of her bed, the candles on her makes.h.i.+ft altar flickered. At least twice in the night they had gone out, and she had begged Lucrezia to relight them.

"So, children, this is Nunzio," announced Rocco. Giovanna smiled at Rocco for remembering his promise, but she had prayed to Nunzio and the angels all night long and knew what she must do.

"No, the child will be called Anthony," Giovanna whispered.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1909.

"Domenico, come see our new brother," greeted Mary when Domenico stepped in the door.

Domenico was so anxious to speak with his aunt that he hardly glanced at the infant.

"Zia, they arrested Lupo today. He's in the city jail."

Once again, Giovanna was left wondering what this would mean for her daughter.

"Do you know on what charges?"

"For blackhanding a shop owner named Manzella."

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1909.

"Lupo had this all planned. There's nothing to worry about, Leo," rea.s.sured Inzerillo.

"You should of told me is all. I was real surprised," complained Leo.

"Leo, speaking of telling each other things, Molfetti stopped by to see me and said that the fruit seller's wife knew that he unlocked the vestry door. How did she know that, Leo?"

"How should I know?"

"You said the Gallucci brothers were nervous she knew too much. What else does this woman know, Leo?"

"I told you, she knows my name, and she knows what those idiots look like. That's all. Hey, we're getting the money aren't we? Just like I told you."

"That's right, Leo, you're getting the money and you need to get more. With Lupo in jail, we need cash." Turning to leave, Inzerillo warned, "And Leo. Nothing can go wrong, Leo."

FORTY-ONE.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1909.

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"Congratulations, signora. I hear you have a son," greeted Inzerillo, ushering her into the back room.

How bizarre these meetings were, thought Giovanna. It was like they were two leashed dogs that, if untethered, would tear each other apart.

"Thank you, signore. His name is Anthony." Giovanna wondered if this G.o.dless creature would understand the significance of her son's name.

"Sit, please, signora," directed Inzerillo.

"I heard that Lupo is in jail. I must admit, I thought he was behind my troubles, but now with him in jail it's clear that's not true," fished Giovanna.

Inzerillo tried to hide his surprise and interest in what Giovanna was saying. "You're right to a.s.sume I know Lupo, signora. And you're also right to a.s.sume that he knows nothing of your troubles. He's a good man."

"In a way, I wish he was involved, signore. I get the feeling that he's a reasonable man and would understand that we have no more money."

"Signora, I was told that these men were going to ask for a final payment. Surely, knowing that this is the last payment will inspire you to get the money."

"Listen, signore. We do not have this money. I will find a way to get it if you can promise that there will be no more demands and my entire family will be together and safe."

"Signora, you forget that I am only a messenger, but I promise to use all my influence to make this so. You have acted honorably and so must these thieves."

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1909.

For the first time in a long time, Giovanna sat down and told Rocco what was going on. She avoided the details and focused on the contents of the last letter.

"How do we know this will really be it?" Rocco asked.

"We don't."

Rocco looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye, realizing she was holding something back, but he was too debilitated by this process to ask questions. "But we don't have the money. Lorenzo's given us everything he has," said Rocco, frustrated. "And no matter how much we work between now and then, we couldn't earn it."

"Maybe my parents have money left from what I sent them," offered Giovanna.

"Even if they did, it would never get here in time."