Babygirl didn’t want to stay in a strange place with strange people. Mimi found her shivering like a little refugee in the bathroom and proceeded to run a hot bath.
“No ill in the world a hot bath can’t cure,” she’d said to the child.
Elly got into the tub without a fight. The hot water brought her slowly down from the ceiling and back into her body. Soon she was letting Mimi kneel over and scrub her with a white washcloth and Ivory soap.
“I remember this. You giving me a bath,” she said with her eyes closed. “I was strong then, wasn’t I, Mimi?”
“You still are. I see these bruises, Elly, like I saw them in your palm. Such strength you have.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“That’s how it feels when we are at our strongest. It’s when we feel safe enough to notice our weakness. You left him. That took some kind of strength.” Mimi was lathering Elly’s scalp.
“I remembered being baptized,” said Elly, as Mimi’s hands soothed the wild pain inside.
“Well, that’s good,” said Fee, barging in with a booming voice and a pile of clean, fluffy white towels. She sat on the toilet seat. Itsy followed and sat on the edge of the tub. She had a plastic freezer bag full of rose petals and she reached in, sprinkling a handful out into the bathwater.
“She’s saying she’s sorry,” said Mimi.
Elly didn’t need The Sight to hear the apology. It was in the scent the hot water released from the frozen petals.
A comfortable silence fell between all of them punctuated by drips and splooshes of water.
“I miss my mother,” Babygirl said so long ago.
“I miss my mother,” cried Elly in the tub.
“What do you want, love? I’ll do what I can to ease this for you.” Mimi used the same words in the present that she had in the past.
“I want to cut my hair,” said Elly.
“No. You mustn’t cut your princess hair!” said Fee.
“There’s so much power in our hair, good and bad. It holds onto things don’t you know,” said Mimi, helping her out of the tub while her aunts wrapped her in the towels. She felt like an Indian princess emerging from a pool of jasmine water.
“I’m relieved you didn’t want what you wanted when you were just a little bit of a thing,” said Mimi.
“What did I want back then?”
“You asked me to bring you back to your mother. And I couldn’t do that.” said Mimi.
“Why not?” asked Elly.
She’d lost her mind, wrote Itsy.
Mimi grabbed the note, crumpled it, and threw it in the tin garbage can under the sink.
“Never mind all that,” said Mimi. “Instead of cutting your hair, why not let us play with it? Maybe a new hairstyle?”
The women moved her into Mimi’s bedroom. Elly marveled at the simple beauty. They sat her at Mimi’s dressing table. A replica of Carmen’s only not as cluttered. Itsy leaned forward and took some of the front of Elly’s hair, twisting it and snipping it with a scissor right in front of Elly’s eyes.
“I thought we weren’t cutting it?” she asked.
“We’re not,” said Mimi, gathering up the rest and twirling it into a damp knot at the top of her head.
“If you put it up when it’s a little wet, it gets all wavy and nice for the rest of the week!” said Fee.
It’s a shame she didn’t have children of her own, thought Elly.
Itsy pulled out the new wisps of hair created by the angled bangs.
“Windswept and romantic, that’s what Mama used to call this hairstyle,” said Mimi.
Itsy moved away and Elly looked at herself in the mirror.
“Yes, windswept and romantic indeed,” she said, feeling lovely.
Later she tried to put on her hat, but it wouldn’t fit over the bun.
“You don’t need it anymore,” said Mimi as they were leaving for church.
Elly wasn’t so sure about that.
* * *
“I think I did it wrong. He gave me a funny look,” whispered Elly in the pew after she returned from receiving Holy Communion. The Amores had their own pew, on the “Mary” side of the church up front, three rows in. It had a bronze plaque on it that said, “Amore: 1945.”
“Did you spit it back at him?” asked Fee, too loud as always and the priest turned to look at them.
Mimi laughed into her handkerchief.
“They’re the most irreverent of religious women. The priest puts up with it though. They give so much money,” Anthony whispered from behind her.
The whole experience was tolerable for Elly. Enjoyable, even. It made her feel more than a little silly for throwing a fit and exposing her bruises to Mimi. But Mimi seemed to take it in stride, and having it out in the open was a relief.
The church itself was comforting to her artist’s eyes. Unapologetic ornate design, blasts of proud reds and virginal blues. Decadent stained glass windows dappling everyone in moving prisms of color. And people seemed to know her. Waved at her. She even saw Liz walk by in the line to get communion. She held up her hand to the side of her face signaling that she would call.
Elly had a wave of nausea before the Mass ended, and Mimi told her to wait in the front foyer of the church. It was peaceful there with the flickering candles next to the saints. The heavy front doors propped open to let in some of the cold, refreshing breeze.
“Hey!” said Liz, surprising Elly.
“Hey back,” said Elly, still unsure about how to react to this “friend.”
“You escaped, huh?” said Liz with laughter in her eyes.
“I felt a little sick.”
Liz gave Elly a hug and pulled away leaving her hands on Elly’s shoulders. “Word on the street is you don’t remember much of that summer you lived here. So I guess I’m coming out of thin air, right?”
“Sort of—” said Elly, relieved by the truth.
“Don’t worry,” said Liz. “We’ll catch up.”
“Who are you talking to?” Mimi interrupted, the aunts looking accusing on either side of her.
“You remember Liz, don’t you Mimi?” asked Elly.
“Oh yes, Liz, of course!” she said with a smile.
Fee put her hand over her mouth to stifle a loud laugh.
Itsy walked out of the church and a burst of wind blew in behind her.
Elly turned back to Liz to apologize for her family’s bizarre reaction, but she wasn’t there.
* * *
On returning from church, the inhabitants of 170th Street walked into the building single file. Mimi first, then Itsy, Fee, and Elly. Anthony brought up the rear. As they entered the front hall, Anthony pulled Elly back against him and whispered, “Hold on,” against her neck.
The aunts and Mimi parted like a riptide into their respective apartments, Sunday dinner high on their minds.
Anthony put his arms around Elly’s middle and pulled her back into him. He leaned against the wall, holding her close, his head buried in the nape of her neck. Elly pressed against him, leaning her head against his shoulder, his protective arms wrapped around her. The sun dipped and began to pour into the hall through the open front door. Its honey light crept across the gray walls until it coated them.
As Elly melted into Anthony, she shut her now teary eyes, smiling as her body relaxed and began to trust his embrace. Years of pain and doubt began to move away from her as the sun stretched higher on the walls, piercing her closed eyes and bursting tears into tiny spots of glitter.
As the pain left, a hole, deep and black, opened inside of Elly. The pit of her stomach started to hurt. She bent over his arms, tears coming harder now. Anthony held her tighter, talking. He was talking to her, “Shhhh Elly, shhh it’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”
Elly opened her eyes and stiffened her back. “Get off of me.”
“Elly, please…”
“Get off of me, oh please…” Elly begged him as she scratched at his hands. “Let me go.”
Anthony refused to let go. “I can’t … I won’t.”
“You have to!” She pulled against his hands with full force and freed herself from his embrace. She didn’t look back, just ran into Mimi’s apartment and closed the door. She pressed her body against the door and whispered, “I’m so, so sorry.”
Anthony knocked at the door, “Let me in, Elly. Please?”
“What did you do to him?” asked Mimi from behind her. Elly jumped. “What? Did I surprise you? It’s my apartment you know.”
Elly looked at her grandmother and tried to get out the words she wanted to say, tried to ask for advice. Tried to ask for a potion, a bit of magic to stop the dark hole from spreading inside of her.
“I’m disappearing,” was all she could manage to choke out before she ran into the back garden.
Mimi got up and opened the door for Anthony, who was knocking relentlessly.
“Where did she go?”
Mimi pointed toward the back. “You might not find her,” she said. “She thinks she’s disappearing.”
“I never wanted to hurt her, Mimi.”
“Love hurts. Now … now you know what it’s like … now you get to make the decision.”
“What decision, Mimi?”
“To follow her or to run away.”
Anthony followed Elly’s trail through the apartment.
“That’s right,” said Mimi to herself. “He doesn’t run away, that boy. He stays.”
“Elly?” He found her sitting on the bench.
“I’m disappearing. You can’t love me, I’m not here,” Elly whispered.
He sat next to her. “Elly, you are not disappearing. It’s the part of you that needs to go that’s going. You’ll still be here when it’s gone.”
Elly leaned over and put her head between her knees. “It hurts,” she cried. “Oh God, it hurts so much.”
Anthony stood up. “Come with me.”
Elly shook her head “no” between her knees.
“Come on, take my hand…”
Elly looked up, the sun obscured all but his shadow. A dark space just like hers. She got up and placed her hand in his. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going back in time.”
He walked fast in the late winter sun, her small hand swallowed up by his. Warm. She wanted her whole body to feel like that. They walked for a few blocks in silence and then arrived at a playground. Empty in the early winter twilight.
“We played here,” she said.
It was a small square playground surrounded by barren trees. There was a swing set, a massive domed metal jungle gym, a slide, and a basketball court. All of it bathed in slightly muted light as the sun set, too early.
“Princess Babygirl, would you like a ride on the royal swing?” he asked, extending his arm toward the swing set.
Elly sat down on a swing, the cold metal chains smooth against her palms.
“Want a push?” he asked.
And then she was flying, flying into the evening, trying to touch her toes to the tree branches, black against a purple sky. And Anthony was on the swing next to her, flying, too. Laughing.
There was power in the controlled flight. Elly remembered being small and finding the perfect point at which to let go and let her body arc through the sky before landing on the ground. She almost released her grip. Her body jerked back, Anthony pulled on her swing before she had a chance to jump.
“Not today, Elly,” he said. “You could hurt the baby.”
The baby. Reality slammed back into her.
They swung gently back and forth. A comfortable silence settled between them.
She looked at him with a sideways glace. “Anthony?”
“Princess?”
“He hit me.”
“He won’t anymore,” said Anthony.
“I let him,” said Elly, wiping away more infuriating tears.
“You were afraid.”
“I’m afraid now.”
Anthony pulled her swing around and locked his legs around hers so that they couldn’t swing apart. “Yes, but the difference is I’m never going to hurt you.”
“But what if I hurt you? Or worse, what if I make you hurt me? And then you won’t be able to forgive yourself, and then…”
“Elly, I’m never going to leave you. Period,” Anthony interrupted.
“How do I know that? How can I know for sure? How can you know for sure?”
“Because I already stayed. I already did it. I’ve waited. I’ve lived through you leaving and then coming back and not remembering me. I’ve lived through that traumatic Christmas when you kissed me and then left me cold,” he laughed.
“That’s not funny, said Elly, breaking away from him and swinging alone. “I didn’t want to leave that night either. Carmen made me.”
“Come here,” he said, his arms open. “Swing with me.”
Elly climbed on his lap, facing him, slipping her legs by his sides. He covered her smallish hands with his large ones.
Anthony began to swing slowly, their bodies moving back and forth, the force of the air pressing them together. He stopped and took her face in his hands, the streetlights washing the park in artificial light glowing against her green eyes. He pulled her face to his and kissed her. His warm mouth reminded her of the ache she felt for him all those years ago. The rightness. The kiss that softly expresses wanting to be as close as two people can be. Not like Cooper’s kisses. The kisses that violently established ownership and left her mouth bruised and invaded. Elly felt that blackness begin to fill up with something else. Something real and familiar. Feels like I’m home …
* * *
Back on 170th Street there was a rush to get Sunday dinner on the table and Anthony was sent out for loaves of bread. Elly, lost in the fuss, found herself alone. She wandered through the building, through the front hall that narrowed and then became the back hall. Up the staircase that split the apartment building into an A side and B side. She put her hands on Uncle George’s closed door and tried to remember more of him than just a muttering, smelly old man. But mostly, Elly listened closely for the crying but didn’t hear it. She heard something entirely different but somehow more unnerving. She heard the mystery child laughing. Muffled giggles now paired with echoes of tiny feet running up and down the stairs and in and out of closed doors.
At dinner, in between courses of steaming pasta, meatballs made with friselles (pepper biscuits), and tender asparagus quickly sautéed in olive oil and tossed with salt, there was a lively discussion about the mystery voice.
“Laughing now? The kid isn’t crying anymore, it’s laughing?” asked Mimi.
“Yeah. And it’s just as creepy as it is curious,” she said to Mimi at the table.
“Maybe it’s Zelda,” Fee yelled.
“No, we’ve already decided it isn’t Zelda,” said Mimi.
“How can you be sure?” asked Anthony.
“I guess I can’t be sure,” said Elly, stuffing another mouthful of pasta in her mouth. She’d never had a meal that tasted so—right. It was made with a special ingredient, or so the aunts had said. Strawberry leaves sautéed with olive oil, garlic, and other greens and mixed with chicken stock. Then tossed with the homemade pasta.
“Have you seen it? Is it a boy or a girl?” asked Mimi.
“No, I haven’t seen it. And I can’t tell the gender by the voice,” said Elly. Then she threw her napkin on the table in frustration. “And see, this is crazy. You’re all supposed to be telling me it’s in my head.”
Itsy scribbled quickly, showing Elly her words. They exchanged smiles.
“What did she say?” asked Anthony.
“It’s in your head. See, at least one of you is sane.”
Itsy nodded and grunted out in raspy agreement with herself.
“This pasta is so good, Mimi! What’s it for again?” asked Elly, reaching for the large ceramic bowl in the middle of the table. It always seemed full, she noticed. As if five people hadn’t alread
y eaten their fair share.
“Strawberry leaves,” said Mimi. “It’s good for the baby, that’s all you have to know.” And it was all Elly wanted to know—because someone caring about her, cooking for her, keeping her safe … these feelings were magical enough. She didn’t need to know any recipes. Not just yet.
9
Elly and Liz
That night, when all the pots and pans were cleaned and put away, Mimi brought Elly a fine white nightgown with delicate cutwork around the squared neckline.
“Mama made them for all of us. Fee and Itsy made this one for you last night.”
“Last night?” asked Elly, taking the lovely yet sturdy garment from her grandmother’s rough hands. “But it’s so beautiful.”
“What is it? A sheet with a few fancies, not much. But a girl feels like a girl in one. So wear it and have a good sleep, okay?”
Mimi was out of the room so fast Elly said goodnight to the door.
She wasn’t tired. She wandered around the room, her mother’s room, and traced its features with her fingers. The dresser, the blue paisley wallpaper, the molding.
In the nightgown, with her hair piled high and her body scrubbed, Elly felt like she should be a ghost wandering around in old Scottish ruins. A shadow at Stonehenge. A barefoot priestess lost in the mist, carrying a secret.
The winter window grew moss as Elly fell asleep. A pebble woke her. And then a handful of pebbles. She sat up and cupped her hands together to see out of the window.
“Liz?” She opened the window. “What are you doing here?”
“Want to go for a walk in the winter wonderland?”
Elly yanked on her boots and put on the coat she’d borrowed from Anthony. She climbed out the window.
“You’re a big girl, I’m sure no one would object to you leaving out through the front door. Sheesh!”
“You don’t know my people.” Elly dusted cold snow from the windowsill off her neck and shivered. For a moment she wanted to take down her hair and grab her hat. She fought the urge. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Let’s visit Georgie,” Liz suggested.
“Who’s that? Someone else I can’t remember?”
The Witch of Little Italy Page 8
