The Witch of Little Italy

by Suzanne Palmieri

  “She’s okay, I think. You okay, honey?”

  Elly let Anthony wash her hands like a little kid. “Yeah, I think so. Did it get dark really quickly?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’re worrying me.”

  “What’s worrying you?” asked Mimi coming up from behind, Fee in tow.

  “Our girl here, she seems off.”

  Mimi put her arm around Elly’s waist. “Of course she’s off. It’s almost her time. Men. You can’t even imagine what we go through.”

  “Men, you can’t even imagine…” Fee yelled, nodding along with her sister.

  “Here, love. Let’s pick up this hair. So hot against your neck, no?” Fee began to pull Elly’s hair into a ponytail. Elly wriggled free of all of them.

  “Wait! Look. It was just daylight and I just got an ice and Liz was just here and now … now? Where’s Itsy? I’m done with all of this! I need to know what she’s keeping from me. Is she coming?”

  “We left her pinning money on the saint,” said Mimi. “Maybe she’s still there?”

  The saint. Money. Zeppoli. Reality.

  “Where do you buy the zeppoli? Is it on the way to the saint?” asked Elly.

  “It’s just down there, past the peaches and wine,” said Anthony, blowing some hair out of his own eyes. “Do you want me to go get some for all of us?”

  Mimi and Fee nodded.

  “Elly?”

  Elly nodded along with the old ladies. Anthony smiled at his women. “Okay, well go sit down and I’ll bring ’em back to us, okay?”

  “And then we find Itsy? And you all agree we make her tell me her secret once and for all. Like an intervention or something? Okay?”

  “Yes, yes, sure, sure…” said Mimi and Fee clucking around her.

  The three women worked their way through the now crowded street back toward the bench where Elly and Liz first saw the ice truck.

  Fee and Mimi flanked Elly, each woman interlocking with one of Elly’s arms. Elly knew she was safe and protected. She relaxed into the moment, leaning her head against Mimi’s shoulder and letting them direct her body. She almost let her eyes close when the sisters came to an abrupt stop. “What’s going on?” asked Elly.

  “Well would you look at this!” exclaimed Fee.

  “It’s just the same isn’t it, Fee?” asked Mimi.

  “Looks the same, could it be?” asked Fee.

  The two stopped in front of a multicolored tent nestled between the hot dog stand and a beer garden, with a sign that read TAROT AND PALMISTRY: 5 AND 10 $ READINGS.

  Elly laughed a little. “Like we’d ever need anything like this! What a waste of cash, no?”

  The sisters looked fidgety and their eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

  “What, what is it?” asked Elly, her laughter fading.

  A set of knobby, wrinkled hands parted the red and purple curtains of the tent. The small, ancient woman dressed in scarves dripping with coins on the fringes jingled toward Elly.

  “Is it you, Willow?” asked Mimi in a hushed voice.

  Elly wanted to run back into the crowds and find Anthony. She wanted to throw herself into the arms of the neighborhood surrounding her. She didn’t want to know this Willow person. She didn’t want to figure anything out. She was tired of the mystery.

  A wrinkled hand clamped down on Elly’s sweaty wrist. “Come with me, Eleanor. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Elly watched as Mimi and Fee stood still, frozen. No one would rescue her. She went inside the tent with Willow Bliss.

  * * *

  The inside of the tent was deceptively large with a table covered in the mandatory black velvet, tarot cards, a crystal ball.

  “I don’t want my fortune told,” said Elly.

  A wide, strange grin spread throughout the wrinkles of the ancient woman’s face. Elly hoped it wouldn’t crack.

  The woman wrapped a heavy, deep red, crocheted shawl around her small frame. “Well, Elly. I’ve been waiting a very long time for you. I thought you’d never be born. And then I thought you’d never come. I have something for you.”

  “Who are you?” asked Elly.

  The woman laughed, a sprinkling of gold teeth winking at Elly. She thought they were beautiful. “I’m the fortune-teller who broke your great-grandmother’s heart. I’m Willow Bliss. We grew up together in Fairview, Massachusetts. She was my best friend, Margaret was.”

  Elly did the math in her head. “But that would make you over one hundred years old…”

  The woman shrugged. “Who’s counting?”

  Willow reached inside a large blue sack embroidered in stars that sat at her feet. Finding what she sought, she brought it out as if it were so precious it might break. Her overly satisfied smile triggered Elly’s curiosity tenfold. Her hands itched to hold what Willow was holding.

  She turned to Elly and slowly opened up her hands exposing the treasure. “This—is for you.”

  Elly looked down, hesitantly, almost fearfully, expecting the Holy Grail. But instead it was a small, plain, replica of a steamer trunk. She felt a twinge of disappointment.

  Nevertheless, it was hers, and Willow was expecting her to take it, so Elly plucked the tiny trunk from Willow’s cupped hands.

  “Go ahead,” urged Willow, her eyes glowing brighter. “I’ve been waiting a long time to give this to you. Open it up!”

  “It opens?” asked Elly, her curiosity growing again.

  “Of course it opens, silly girl! It’s a trunk!”

  “Well,” said Elly, “Technically it’s a box that’s designed to look like a trunk. I mean, it could be a model of a trun…”

  Willow cut her off. “Dear Great Goddess! Elly Amore of the Bronx, open it!”

  Elly felt around the sides and found a small latch. She lifted it with a fingernail and opened the box. It wasn’t just any box. It was a music box with a mirror on the inside.

  “Wind it up!” said Willow. She was leaning in, looming almost over Elly. How many times over the years must she have wondered about this gift? thought Elly as she wound the metal crank. It played “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” Carmen’s song. Elly marveled, once again at the genetic connection between Carmen and the world she was falling in love with. It didn’t seem possible Carmen was rooted in any sort of magic. But she was. Here was a song to prove it. The song that lulled a baby Eleanor to sleep. A song Mimi must have crooned to Carmen. A song that carried love through the generations.

  A tiny ballerina popped up and began to twirl … only … was she holding something in her arms? She peered in closer. The ballerina was holding a miniature swaddled baby. But, why? “What does this mean, Willow?” asked Elly.

  “Look deeper, Eleanor,” said Willow, her voice mesmerizing Elly.

  She tilted the box in the dim light and realized that a piece of the box flooring wanted to come up. She gently lifted the small, red velvet base.

  “There’s something in here!” she exclaimed to a satisfied Willow Bliss.

  “So there is,” Willow responded.

  Tucked into the mechanism was a perfectly preserved piece of folded paper. It looked like a Victorian calling card. The name, Margaret Green, was engraved on it and bordered by vines and tiny violets. In smooth script it read:

  Dear Elly,

  Would you be a darling and fix this whole mess for me? It’s all gone to hell in a handbasket, hasn’t it? I’d appreciate it. And, tell them I love them. Tell them Mama loves them so, so much.

  Love,

  Great-Grandma Margaret

  A wave of dizzying dark washed over Elly. She tried to lean against the fabric of the tent but it gave way under her hand. Willow helped her to a folding chair. They sat together as Elly looked at the letter and then back at the music box.

  “Think, Elly,” said Willow. “You have all the pieces now.”

  Trunks.

  Elly searched her mind.

  Searching for maternity clothes with Mimi … The secret hiding place in the attic.
The trunks. She’d found something once, a treasure. When she was ten. And Anthony interrupted her. But then, on the day she was supposed to leave the Bronx. The very day she lost her memories, she found it again. What was inside? A secret big enough to allow Itsy to break her silence. Something of Itsy’s was hidden in a trunk? A light went on in Elly’s mind. She knew what she had to do next. And it had an urgency about it that Elly sensed was more real than anything else.

  She looked frantically at the woman standing in front of her.

  “I can fix it! I can fix it all!”

  “Yes, yes! Go!” said Willow shooing her out with her hands, her bracelets singing out a jingle-jangle song. “You’ve gotten what you’ve come for.”

  Elly went to leave, and then turned, hugging Willow. “Tell me my fortune, Willow,” she whispered in the old woman’s ear. “Tell me?” Elly pulled Willow’s hand to her belly.

  Willow withdrew her hand quickly, as if she’d been burned.

  “Dearheart, all this can be changed. You have the answers now. Maybe not all that you want, but all that you need.”

  * * *

  Elly threw open the fabric of the tent with a fierce determination burning inside of her. Elly saw Anthony pushing through the crowd balancing bags of zeppoli and sodas. She ran to him without considering her enormous shape and knocked into a couple right in front of her. The man spilled something and turned around.

  “I’m so, so sorry…” started Elly and then she recognized the face even if the face didn’t recognize her.

  “No problemo,” said Cooper Bakersmith. Elly knew that voice. He was trying to keep his cool. He didn’t like strangers to see his inner, seething self.

  Anthony came up next to her, almost dropping the bags of fried dough when he saw Cooper. Elly elbowed him.

  She was starting to hyperventilate but knew she needed to remain calm.

  Cooper looked at them, a confused expression furrowing his brow, but the girl at his side urged him to get going. He turned to walk away.

  Elly and Anthony walked in the other direction, fast.

  “Did he recognize you?” Anthony asked under his breath.

  “No, I don’t think so,” answered Elly.

  “Well, whatever you do, don’t look back.”

  Elly couldn’t help herself. Like Lot’s wife she went directly against Anthony’s suggestion and—looked over her shoulder.

  Cooper, with the spell slowly breaking down, had started to remember.

  When Elly looked back, he was standing stock still in a pool of fluorescent light, staring at her. His blond wisp of a new girlfriend asking (from what seemed a very long way away), “What is it? Who is that girl, Cooper? Who is she?”

  “I can’t believe it,” he said and dropped his soda on the ground.

  “Run,” said Anthony.

  “It’s too late,” she said. And she was right.

  “Eleanor!” Cooper yelled and ran the space between them with inhuman speed. He grabbed her arm, yanking her away from Anthony.

  His eyes searched hers, scanned her and she tried to look away. “Eleanor? What the fuck? What are you doing here? Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been here, with my grandmother, like I told you,” said Eleanor, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “Leave her be, Cooper. She doesn’t belong to you,” said Anthony.

  “Shut up,” said Cooper through his teeth. “Just shut up! I’m trying. I’m trying to figure all this out! Why haven’t I been able to remember you?”

  “Cooper, take a deep breath. Everything is okay. Just let me go. Your girl is waiting for you.” Elly thought it was like handling a rabid dog. Calm, careful, and controlled. No quick movements.

  Cooper looked back over his shoulder at the blond girl, then back at Elly. He looked at Elly’s hand. The gem on her left ring finger glistened.

  Crap, thought Elly, her heart sinking.

  “What’s this?”

  Elly felt Anthony stiffen next to her. She shot him a look, warning him to keep his cool.

  “You’re marrying him? And pregnant? I always knew you were a whore,” said Cooper.

  “Yes. That’s right, Cooper. I’m no good. So just let me walk away, okay?” Elly’s hopes that Cooper wouldn’t remember the baby she was carrying was his were dashed as she watched the full swell of recognition wash over him. The spell was broken. Cooper remembered everything.

  He let go of her arm just long enough to grab her by her long hair, yanking her head back so she had to stare up into the light. Hadn’t Fee wanted to put it up? Why hadn’t she listened? Anthony dropped the fried dough and sodas on the ground. The soda fizzed over Elly’s exposed toes. Anthony rushed at Cooper, but Cooper pulled harder. “Stay back, you fucking wop, or I’ll pull all the hair out of her head.” Anthony stood still. He knew Cooper was just crazy enough to do it.

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on.” Cooper was in a sweaty panic, tugging at her hair. “Why are you walking around half clothed? All proud of your fat stomach, you pathetic pig!” His foot came up and Elly tried to reach forward to cover her belly, knowing that would be right where he’d kick her. It was just the move Anthony was waiting for. He grabbed Cooper’s foot midair, toppling him over.

  Cooper scrambled to his feet. The two men exchanged swings. Elly searched for Mimi and Fee in the crowd, but they weren’t there. Someone yelled that the police were coming and Anthony took a quick look around before he hammered Cooper with one enraged punch that clipped the side of his head and tipped him off balance, giving him the time to grab Elly. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and the crowd parted for him as he ran with her, trying to get her to safety. And it closed against Cooper who battled to no avail. By the time he broke free, Elly and Anthony were already down the block and in the hallway of 170th Street.

  “We can’t stay here. Do you have Georgie’s keys?” asked Elly.

  “Sure. Always. But where are we going, Elly?” asked Anthony.

  “Far Rockaway. Itsy’s cottage. I have to find the trunk. There’s something hidden in the trunk.”

  “But this building has like, a thousand trunks in the attic. Why not start here.” Anthony was looking over his shoulders. It was clear to Elly that he wanted to lock her up, keep her safe. But her quest was more important.

  “Anthony, me and Mimi looked through almost all of them when we were digging for these fine maternity clothes,” Elly said as she pulled at her dress. “And we found nothing. Then, when I was decorating the apartment, I tore through what was left. There are no secrets there. Not anymore.”

  “So why Far Rockaway?”

  “It’s the only other place I can think of. Where else would Itsy hide a secret?”

  “It’s Itsy’s secret?” asked Anthony as they got in the car and began to drive away.

  “Yes. It’s always been hers. But I’m about to figure it all out.”

  You hear me, old woman? I’m going to figure it all out …

  * * *

  Itsy stood alone in the center of the attic, listening through the air vents waiting for Elly and Anthony to leave the building so she could put her plan in place. Those damn air vents. They were the cause of all the issues, really. If no one had heard her talk that day, maybe no one would have piqued Elly’s curiosity. Too late, too late. And now Cooper would come and she’d have to do something unspeakable. If she was lucky. Itsy let out a papery rasp, a swallowed chuckle, at the thought. Imagine. She was hoping for something horrible to happen. Because the irony of life is too simple, sometimes. In order for Itsy to save Elly, she’d have to destroy Cooper Bakersmith. Tearing apart a human life was no small task, and it would put her soul in jeopardy. Or at least that’s what Mama would say. But if I don’t, thought Itsy, then I’ll never be able to prove that these things, these awful things we see can be changed! And don’t forget, I have to save her. I swore a solemn vow.

  She’d need her voice. She tested it. Tried to cough but no sound came out. No, not
yet … she thought. Not yet, but soon.

  29

  Itsy

  There isn’t a magical “Take Me Home” spell. No ruby slippers. Once you’re grown, you can’t go home again.

  In my cottage by the sea, the one so filled up with Mama and my sisters and George when I was young, I rocked myself to sleep and cried. Even before all hell broke loose over, upon, and inside my family on that day in May 1945, I was a broken girl. Abandoned by the rest of them, left to fend for myself, and with Henry only able to be with me in secret … the lonesome was so hard to bear sometimes.

  I started getting homesick the second Mama took out my braids and piled my hair on top of my head. I was breathless to grow up, to be like my older sisters. Breathless at thirteen, to be with Henry. I was sick of being Georgie’s caretaker and the last in line for Mama’s attention. But when she sat me down in front of her dressing mirror stroking my braids with her chin resting on the top of my head so we were looking square at one another and asked, “Are you ready?” … I wasn’t. A queasy feeling opened up in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to cry out, “No! No, Mama, I’m not ready!” But there was no going back. Henry’s lips had touched mine already. The spell of adulthood was cast.

  I think she understood, because as she undid my braids and pinned up my hair she said, in the way Mama said things, no holds barred, “You can’t go home again, Itsy. I’d like to say you can but you can’t. I’d like to tell you that you can stay little forever, but I’d be lying and I don’t lie. The truth is, time marches on and you have two choices: You move forward, come what may, and you experience all the sour and sweet things that fly at you from around the corners, or you sit still. Don’t sit still.”

  George never grew up, not in his mind. He was forced to sit still. And it was hard for him. Watching me and Henry fall in love. Watching us laugh over jokes he didn’t understand. He felt left out. I remember him, his strong adult body trying to squish up in my lap, crying about it all on the porch of my cottage.

  “But it’s not fair,” he whined. “You and Henry all alone, keeping me outta things. I wish, I wish…”