I bend down and kiss him. “You are going to be such a strong man when you grow up. Take care of Mama, Carlotta, and Pietro.” I frown and look at my mother. “Where is Pietro?”
“I left him with Agata at Giuseppe’s house.”
“Giuseppe?”
“Zio Mario caught them together at the end of the summer. They were just kissing behind the boulders on the beach. But Zio Mario did not care. Needless to say, Giuseppe proposed to Agata after Zio Mario caught them. They got married in September. Agata now lives next door to us with Giuseppe and his parents.”
I can’t help but smile thinking about Agata and Giuseppe hiding behind the boulders, the same boulders where my father had chased me, thinking I was there to meet my lover.
“Is she happy?”
“She seems to be. They’re trying to start a family.”
“Tell her I miss her and wish nothing but the best for her.”
“I will. She has told me how much she’s missed you, too, since you left home.”
Carlotta cries as she walks over and hugs me.
“Don’t cry, my beautiful little sister. Remember, when you see the stars at night, look for the brightest one and think about me. And I will also look for the brightest star I can see in the skies in America as I think about you. When you get sad, sing the song we always used to sing.”
“ ‘Stella Mia.’ I still remember the words.”
“Good.” I kiss her on the forehead.
Carlotta pulls away. “Sarai sempre con me. You will always be with me.” She curls her small hand into a fist and taps her chest. I’m amazed by the maturity of her action.
Before I fall to pieces, I mimic her gesture and say, “Vi sarà anche sempre con me.”
I then turn to my mother. We embrace one last time. She whispers, “Don’t worry anymore about us. Your husband is your family now.”
“Ti voglio bene, Mama.”
“I love you, too, Sarina. Be happy.” She kisses me.
“Mama, if you say the word, I will leave with you and the children. I don’t care about Papá.”
Mama takes my face in her hands. Tears are now in her eyes, too. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. And even if nothing were to happen, I can’t let you return to that kind of life. There’s nothing for you back home but constant abuse at your father’s hands. When Carlotta and Enzo are old enough, I will encourage them to find a way to leave, too. The same for Pietro. Go, my sweet daughter.” Mama gives me one last hug before pulling away sharply. She gestures with her hand for me to go to Paolo.
I take a tentative step toward my husband and stop. Mama’s words come back to me: “Your husband is your family now.” Taking a deep breath, I wave to Mama, Carlotta, and Enzo before turning my back to them. I link my arm in Paolo’s as we head over to the ship’s ramp. Though the crewmember is motioning for us to hurry, I walk slowly. Paolo tries in vain to lead me along more quickly. With each step, my heart grows heavier. Halfway up the ramp, I pause and look at my family. Mama, Enzo, and Carlotta have their arms wrapped around each other’s backs, as if they’re trying to give one another emotional support. I bite my lower lip, still tempted to run off the ship. But then I see the boarding ramp being hoisted up. My stomach feels queasy as I realize this is it. I really am leaving. I look out at my family once more. They wave to me. Mama’s large onyx eyes seem darker than usual.
We go up to the top deck, which is swarming with crowds of people.
“America! America!” Many of the men laugh and shout, pumping their fists in the air. Their wives smile and laugh along with them. But many of the other women, especially the younger ones, look as sad as me. Their eyes hold vacant, glassy stares, and their complexions are as white as the linens that their mothers and grandmothers have painstakingly embroidered for their trousseaus.
“Sarina, don’t cry anymore.” Paolo pulls me close to him and strokes my hair, whispering into my ear, “America é la terra senza lacrime. America is a land of no tears.”
“La terra senza lacrime,” I silently whisper to myself.
As the ship glides away from the docks, I finally am able to squeeze past the throngs of people leaning over the edge. I spot my family.
“Carlotta! Enzo!” I scream, but my voice gets drowned in the din of the other passengers calling to their families.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I watch my family become smaller and smaller until they are mere specks in the distance. I then fix my gaze on the mountains. I remember from my geography lessons that mountains do not exist in every part of the world. Yet in that moment I never would have dreamed that these mountains, which had surrounded me all my life, would disappear as quickly as the years I had spent in my homeland. Surely, there will be mountains where I am going, I tell myself. It is, after all, as Paolo has said, “a land of no tears.”
PART THREE
Astoria, New York, and Messina, Sicily
July–September 2013
22
Revelations
I turn over the remaining pages in my mother’s diary, but they are all blank. While I feel like I know more about her, especially from her life before she met my father, I can’t help but feel disappointed since I had hoped there would be clues in the diary as to why she left me. Sighing, I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on.
Notes from Kyle’s bagpipe reach my ears. I get up from the bed where I’d been reading and walk over to the window. The melancholy tones match my spirits, but there’s also something soothing about the music.
“Shut that racket! You’re going to get the whole neighborhood up in arms!” Daddy’s voice booms. Soon, he enters my line of vision, holding a bag of groceries with two loaves of Italian bread sticking out.
Kyle stops playing, and I see him laugh as Daddy scolds him about the bagpipes.
Shaking my head, I go back to the bed and lie down. I pray that Kyle finds a job soon so we can move back home. While it’s been nice living with Daddy again, it’s also been tense due to the back-and-forth ribbing between him and Kyle. I’m sure Kyle is close to losing his temper with Daddy, but he hasn’t out of respect toward Daddy and me. He’s a saint—another reason why I love him so much.
Thinking about my love for Kyle makes me think about Carlo. So my mother had a great love before my father. Did she ever come to love Daddy as much as she had Carlo? Something tells me no, and I can’t help feeling sad for Daddy. Did he know about Carlo? For his sake, I hope not. Though I wish the diary entries about Carlo and my mother had been about her and Daddy, I can’t deny that my mother and Carlo’s love was special. I wonder what ever happened to Carlo? And what about my grandmother and Sarina’s younger siblings?
Reading my mother’s diary these past two weeks has just left me with more questions—and a deeper ache than ever. All these years, I’ve been deceiving myself, trying to convince myself that I was fine without my mother and that I had little curiosity about her. Of course, there were moments when I was a child and I cried for not having a mother, especially when I would go over my friends’ houses and see their mothers doting over them. Aunt Donna was the closest thing I had to a mother, and though she did her best to fill my mother’s shoes while she stayed with Daddy and me, it wasn’t the same.
While I read my mother’s diary, at times it almost felt as if she were sitting at the foot of my bed, reading to me. Wiping away the tears falling down my face, I close my eyes. I should take a nap. I feel so drained. The past couple of weeks have been hard as I learned more about my mother. The emotions that ran through me have left me spent. And I know I must confront Daddy about the diary, for now something tells me he knows more than he’s ever let on.
I manage to fall asleep but am awakened only fifteen minutes later.
“Click on the blue e! Click on the blue e! How hard is it to remember that?”
Kyle’s exasperated voice reaches my ears, followed by Daddy’s.
“Have some patience, for crying out loud!”
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Kyle must be showing Daddy for the ten millionth time how to get on the Internet. Our bedroom is right next to the office Daddy uses. With us staying here for the summer, Daddy decided it would be a good time for him to finally become savvier with the computer. He’s been driving Kyle and me nuts, to say the least.
“Okay. I remember this part. I type in the Internet address in this white bar at the top.”
“That’s right.”
There’s silence for a moment, and I think that Daddy has finally remembered how to access a Web site, but then I hear, “How many w’s do I need to type again?”
“You’ve been really out of it lately, Paulie. I know you’re not suffering from dementia yet.”
“Funny. And I have not been out of it. I just need some time to get used to using this machine.”
“It’s not a machine. It’s a computer.” Kyle groans loudly.
“Whatever. You know what I mean.”
“I know what your problem is. You’ve been thinking too much about Penelope Anastasos.”
“What? That’s crazy. And lower your voice. I don’t need you putting ideas into Julia’s head.”
Penelope? Why would Daddy be thinking too much about the Greek café owner who bought the late Signora Tesca’s house, dubbed the Mussolini Mansion by the neighbors on Daddy’s block? Penelope opened Olympus Café on Ditmars Boulevard back in April. The café is just a block away from Antoniella’s Bakery. Antoniella, or The Hunchback as Daddy’s neighbors have secretly nicknamed her, is a force to be reckoned with. According to Daddy, she feels threatened by Penelope, whose café has been a hit since it opened. While the Olympus Café serves Greek desserts and sandwiches unlike Antoniella’s Bakery, which serves mainly Italian desserts and pastries, Antoniella still has been fretting, fearing she’s losing business. But whenever I walk by Antoniella’s, it’s still as packed as ever with customers. Daddy mentioned the other day that when Antoniella found out a few of her loyal customers were also patronizing Penelope’s café, she stopped talking to them. If she keeps acting that way, she will begin losing business. And she refuses to be cordial to Penelope, who has made several attempts to befriend her.
The only logical explanation I can think of for Kyle’s comment to Daddy about Penelope is that Daddy has probably gotten in the middle of the feud between the two women. Daddy must be trying to find a way to either get them to quash their quarreling or to convince both women he’s on their side. If only he could finally stop meddling in other people’s affairs. Kyle mentioned to me that the neighbors call Daddy “The Mayor” behind his back, which infuriated me even though I know it’s true that he has a tendency to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ll have to ask Kyle later what exactly he meant by his comment about Penelope, but right now I just want some peace and quiet. Getting out of bed, I head over to the office.
“Can the two of you lower your voices? I was trying to take a nap, and you woke me.”
“Tell your husband. Danny Boy gets so worked up over nothing.”
“ ‘Danny Boy’ is an Irish song. I’m Scottish, remember?” Kyle sounds very irritated.
“I swear this is the last time I ask Danny Boy to show me how to use the computer.”
“Do you really swear, Paulie?”
“I don’t like your tone. I’ve been patient because I know you’re stressed with looking for another job, but—”
“You’ve been patient? What about Julia and me?”
“Stop it! Both of you! I’ve had enough of your going back and forth with your constant jokes and bickering! This was a mistake! We should have never come here!”
My yelling shuts both Kyle and Daddy up. But they continue staring at me, shock registered all over their faces. It’s rare that I lose my temper, and even when I’m upset, I hardly ever resort to yelling.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Are you feeling all right? You look a bit pale,” Kyle says as he comes over to me and picks up my hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.
Daddy looks up from the computer monitor. “She’s right, Kyle. We have been acting ridiculous. I’m sorry, Julia. We should have realized this would upset you.”
I pull my hand out of Kyle’s grip and rub my head.
“Do you have a headache?”
“I do. Can you get me a couple of Advil?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back.” Kyle disappears down the hall.
I rub the back of my neck, which, along with my head, is also feeling very tight.
“Julia, sweetie, is everything all right? You have been so quiet and withdrawn ever since you and Kyle came to stay here. I know it’s stressful being displaced, but is anything else wrong?”
I look at Daddy. Worry is etched all over his face. I suppose I should just get it over with and tell him about Sarina’s diary now.
“Remember that family tree assignment I told you about?”
“Sure.”
“Since I’m planning on participating in the assignment as well, I went down to the basement to find that binder you had shown me when I was a kid. You know, the one that has our family’s ancestry recorded in it?”
“Oh yeah! Wow! That was a long time ago. I’d almost forgotten I had it. Then again, I haven’t looked at the stuff in the basement in quite some time.”
“I figured. Anyway, I found a trunk. It looked like . . .” My voice trails off as I ponder what to call Sarina; when I talk about her to others, I just say “my mother.” Suddenly, I’m reminded of the day before she left, as I pointed to the grapevine and pleaded, “Mama! Up! Up!” right before she lifted me in her arms. Throughout my life, whenever I’ve thought about my mother, I’ve often replayed in my mind this memory, and every time I remember it, a jolt of pain flashes through me. I knit my brows.
“It looked like what, Julia?”
“A few of my mother’s belongings were in there.”
“Oh.” Daddy’s face goes pale.
“I found her diary.”
“Oh,” Daddy repeats.
“Sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t find the Advil. Your father doesn’t keep it in the medicine cabinet like most normal people do.” Kyle hands me two Advils and a glass of water.
Daddy doesn’t respond to Kyle’s crack. Kyle looks from Daddy to me.
“What did I miss? You two look like you saw a dead person.”
“Well, I guess you could say that,” I say nonchalantly after swallowing my Advil. I place the cold glass of water against my throbbing head.
“So is one of you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“A few weeks ago I found my mother’s diary along with a few of her other possessions in a trunk. I’ve been reading the diary and learning all about her.”
“So that’s what you’ve been reading the past few weeks? From the book’s cover, I thought it was some primer on teaching.”
“Yeah, well, I covered the diary with the teaching primer’s jacket.”
“Obviously. But why the big secret, Julia? Couldn’t you have told us you found the diary when you did? It’s natural you’d want to read it and learn more about your mother.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I know it sounds crazy, but I wasn’t ready yet to let you and Daddy know I’d found it. I guess I wanted to be left alone while I read it.”
Daddy still hasn’t said much since Kyle returned with my Advil. He looks as if he’s deep in thought.
“Are you all right, Daddy?” I ask.
“I’m fine. Just thinking. It must’ve been hard reading your mother’s diary.”
“It was. But I have to admit it was kind of nice to know more about her finally. She had quite a fascinating life before she met you. Why didn’t you ever tell me, Daddy, that she also loved to sing?”
“So that’s where you get it from,” Kyle interjects.
“The subject of your mother has always been a touchy one for me. I guess you could say I was tiptoeing around you, not knowing what to say and not wanting to hurt you by bringing her up. You
also never really asked to know more about her, other than why she left us. And you haven’t even asked that question since you were in grade school.”
Something about Daddy’s excuse really irks me. “So are you saying it’s my fault that you chose not to tell me more about her?”
“No, no, no! That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just you seemed to be adjusting well without having your mother in your life. I didn’t want to rock the boat is all.”
“You didn’t want to rock the boat?” I can’t hide the derision in my voice. The Advil still hasn’t kicked in, and my head is pounding now.
“Julia, please. Calm down. I wasn’t trying to intentionally hide anything about her from you. Just ask. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Kyle comes over to me and rubs the back of my neck, something he always does when I have a headache, but instead of making me feel better right now, it’s just annoying me. I pull away.
“What did you know about my mother’s past other than that she ran away from home, was a singer, and read tarot cards?” I really want to ask him if he knew about Carlo, but I can’t bring myself to hurt him if he doesn’t know.
“Wow! Your mom sounds interesting!” Kyle says. I shoot him a look that says to be quiet.
“That’s about it. I know she had a rough childhood, caring for her younger brothers and sister and dealing with her father’s rages and abuse. That’s all.”
“So you didn’t know about this diary?”
“No. I didn’t even realize there was still stuff of hers in the basement. I thought Aunt Donna had cleared it all away when . . .” Daddy pauses before continuing. “When we knew she wasn’t ever coming back.”
“So you knew for certain she wasn’t coming back?”
“Not at first, but after a few years.” Daddy’s eyes look pained, and I regret my earlier anger toward him, but that quickly changes when he says, “Since you’re ready to know everything, Julia, I want to come clean with you. Your mother and I were still communicating with each other for a few years after she left.”
Stella Mia Page 27
