“In the bedroom, Tony,” Regina called, and he ushered me in.
There it was—the garlicky air in the kitchen, and the eye-burning scent of seashell soaps everywhere else. In the hall outside her bedroom door, I smelled her lilac perfume—the same one she’d worn how many years ago? Eight? I thought so. I reached out and touched Tony’s elbow. I don’t even know why, perhaps a reflex. He turned quickly, and we stood there staring at each other for a moment.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispered. “It’s not so bad.”
“Who’d you bring for me?” Regina asked in a gravelly voice. I expected Tony to call out: Sacrificial lamb! I came around the doorjamb. Regina squinted at me.
“It’s Bettina Vasilis, Nonna,” Tony said. “Remember?”
“Dinos’s girl?”
“That’s right.”
Queen Regina sat high on her wide bed. Her hair and makeup were perfect but she looked tired—like someone had come along and hollowed her out somehow. She adjusted a seed-stitched afghan over her legs. She had the same velvet pillows on her bed, the same crystal water carafe and tumbler on her nightstand, and a few snow globes from a collection that she kept out year-round. I’d seen them all before. She would have slapped me if she’d known how I sneaked around at the Colletti parties. I’d shaken up every one of those snow globes—had a contest with myself to get them all snowing at once.
“I haven’t seen you in years. Look at you! Gorgeous! You have your mother’s mouth—those lips!” Regina raised her eyebrows at Tony. He blushed. So did I. “I saw that coming years ago,” Regina claimed. “And those weird, wonderful golden eyes—now those are all your own. Always were.”
“Nonna, you need anything? Tea?”
“Yes. Black tea for me.”
“And for you, Bettina?” he asked. “Tea?”
“Of course she’ll have some. Go get it!” Regina told him. She made a whisking motion with her hand as if to get rid of him. I felt panicked not wanting to be left alone with her. “Sit down.” She patted the bed. I reluctantly propped myself on the very edge—in that bad spot where you need to be either more on or more off.
“So tell me about yourself,” Regina insisted. “You got a boyfriend?”
Interesting she should start there. I still had a bad taste in my mouth from the scene Brady had created in front of Tony in the glider field. Was there any chance that she knew about that? Or could I try lying?
“Y-yes, there is a boy I date,” I said.
“So . . . it’s serious?”
I shrugged and felt another blush coming on. I didn’t want to talk about Brady—not there—and suddenly the thought of Cowboy came swimming through. Cowboy! He had nothing to do with any of this.
“Oh, for the love-a-God!” Regina squawked. “You’re a shy one! Fine. You don’t want to talk? Then you can listen to me, girl.”
“I am sick as a dog,” she began. She told me how the cancer had spread from her lungs to her brain, and when she said brain, the whole thing sounded so final to me. I winced and wondered how she could be so matter-of-fact about it all. “One thing I’d change, let me tell you. It’s the cigarette smoking. I don’t regret much, but I do regret that, Goddamn it. You don’t smoke, do you?”
I had smoked. A little. And mostly I hated it. But there were times that I wanted that hate. . . . Did those times count? I shifted on that lousy perch at the edge of her mattress. I was a good liar. I should be able to lie about cigarettes, with a lilt. Instead, I kept glancing out the door, looking for Tony.
Finally, he came in with the tea and he stayed to drink a cup with us. Regina wanted to know about my family, and so I tried to catch her up on everyone. I told her about the boys mostly. They were a safe topic.
Regina remembered my little brothers. “The pride of Dinos and Loreena Vasilis!” she said. “The sun, it rose and set on those two little bumbies.”
“Did you ever hear the story of how they got their names?” I asked. Oh, yes! This would take a while to tell. I felt brilliant. I launched.
“Bampas always said that a baby boy will tell you his name in time. Maybe you remember that Favian came home from the hospital without a name. Bampas was watching him that first week and he saw him stick his fingers in his mouth. The baby scrunched his brow, looked right at Bampas, and sucked those fingers hard.” Tony and Regina both laughed, and I went on. “Bampas thought the baby looked like he was concentrating, trying to understand. Favian means ‘man of understanding.’”
“Ohh . . . I had forgotten.” Regina tapped her fingers against her teacup.
“That’s how it went,” I said. “And then Avel did not breathe right away—”
“Oh, now this I recall,” Regina said, looking rather serious. “The doctor, she sucked something out of his nose. The mucus. And just in time!”
“That’s right . . .” I slowed my speech. What were we to talk about when I was done? I sipped my tea, took my time to swallow. “That’s why they called him Avel. It means ‘breath.’”
“So, where does Bettina come from?” Tony asked.
I shrugged. “Bampas says you should name a girl the way you make a wish. Name her what you want her to be. But I’m not sure anyone knows what a Bettina is,” I said. That sent both Tony and Regina into laughing fits, and then she coughed wildly.
“Your parents were very proud of their family,” she said when she had recovered. I nodded. It was hard to hear. Of the boys, yes, and maybe they had once been proud of me. For something. Or maybe they never really even looked to be proud of me. I toed the rug, fidgeted.
“Tell me more about Dinos? One of the handsomest men ever,” she said.
“He still has the restaurant,” I offered mildly.
“Yes, yes, Loreena’s Downtown. I remember. My Salvador helped him move the ovens in. What a chore! Dinos and Sal were the same age when they both came to the states. When Sal died, Dinos was there to carry the coffin. See that? Sal carried Dinos’s ovens, and Dinos carried Sal.”
Tony let out a quiet laugh. “I didn’t realize Grandpa knew Dinos from so far back.”
Regina pointed a finger at him and she shook it. “That’s Mr. Vasilis to you,” she said firmly. “You know better than that.”
Tony gave me a sideways grin and said, “You’re right, Nonna.”
“I’m always right.” Regina set her cup on her bedside table and leaned up slowly. “Right now, I have to use the toilet.” I took the opportunity to stand and get off my uncomfortable perch.
“You need help today, Nonna? Want me to walk you there?” Tony was careful—no doting, just offering. This, I thought, this must be the way the old lady wants it. I was betting Tony didn’t get too many of Regina’s wishes wrong. She’d been training him his whole life.
“No, no. You sit,” she told him.
I felt impolite standing there watching so I moved away to the window. I looked down to the tiny garden where Tony had planted the mums. They were like clusters of fuzzy embroidery all around the fountain—the pissing boy—who, I noted, did not appear to be doing his job. Too bad, I thought. I’d always liked him for the bit of sass he brought to the neighborhood. He was no Madonna and neither was his owner. Queen Regina had a reputation. She was, at the very least, a flirt. I knew that without knowing how I knew it. I had probably overheard something. My own parents loved her, but rumors were that she’d slept around with neighborhood men—not while her husband was still alive. But after he died fairly young. Whatever she’d done, Regina had developed a tough crust that kept her from caring what other people thought of her. Maybe, I thought, that’s how one gets to be queen.
Tony startled me. He whispered, “She’s doing good today.”
“She looks the same,” I whispered back. “Just tired. She told me it’s the treatments.”
“Hmm, it takes a lot out of her but then she recovers and she’s almost herself.”
“Nice job on the flowers,” I said, poking a thumb toward the window.
�
�Hey, she told me what she wanted. From there it’s just hoping I get it right.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “But you did.”
“Yeah, and in a month it’ll be time to change to those purple cabbage things,” he said. “Anyway, thanks again. It’s nice you came to see her. She does better when people come around. Her energy picks up. She likes the attention and—” He clammed up then, lips in a tight smile. The queen was returning.
Regina sat back on the bed slowly. She was only somewhat careful not to let her gown ride up as she settled one leg and then the other in front of her. I could not help but stare at her legs, stretched bare from her knees to her toes. Her skin was that beautiful, coffee-with-cream color and it fit smoothly over her toned muscles. “These legs,” she said as if she could read my mind, “are just too much. Like honey to the bees these legs are to men.”
“Nonna!” Tony shifted and laughed but in an adoring way.
“It’s true! And it’s a Goddamn good thing I’m taking these legs with me. Not another woman alive who’d know what to do with these. Look at me.” Regina pointed her painted toes. “These legs are sixty-six years old and they’re almost the same as when I’m sixteen.” She settled against her pillows.
“Let me see your legs.” Regina was looking right at me and I opened my eyes wide. It just so happened I was wearing jeans. She waved a hand at me, “Go ahead. Drop your pants,” she said.
I shot a glance at Tony.
“Uh . . . Nonna! Bettina is our guest,” he said.
“Yeah, and you’ve seen a lot more than her legs.”
“What?” I gasped.
“He’s seen a lot more than your legs,” she repeated. Tony sat back in his chair and briefly hid behind one of his hands. “You two used to go bare-asses in one of those little swim pools out back. Or maybe in my fountain. Hey, one of you kids made a poopa in it one time. Was it you?”
“Nonna!” Tony protested again.
“Oh, all right, all right. Never mind. I’m getting tired anyway,” Regina said. “It’s not the disease ya know, it’s the Goddamn cure that’ll kill you—this radiation.” Regina slouched down, and reached for her afghan. “They do my head ’cause they see some little spot or shadow up there and then I get Goddamn diarrhea from it. Who can figure that out? You come see me again, Bettina. And leave him downstairs.” She flapped a hand at Tony. “You and I will talk about legs and your boyfriend and good stuff beyond that.” She yawned while I forced a little smile and nodded.
“Tuesdays,” she added, her index finger coming at me like a dart. “And you, Tony, you’re going to look at my fountain next, and fix it. Did he tell you what happened?” She looked at me and I shook my head. “My pipi bambino got his winky knocked off. No happy spray. It runs down his leg instead. For a year now!” she added.
“Not quite a year . . .” Tony said. He began to explain. “Halloween night. Somebody tipped him and, well, like my nonna says . . .”
“Broken winky,” Regina said. She yawned again. She nestled into her velvet pillows, pulled the afghan up to her chin. “Tuesdays,” she said, and she closed her eyes.
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Fourteen
THE THING I NEVER SAID OUT LOUD WAS THAT EVEN though I looked for reasons to stay after school, I liked being home for dinner. It was the one time of day I felt connected to my parents. Setting the table was something I could do without being criticized, and I knew how to help serve the meal. Momma was a good cook and, on busy days when she had to run the boys here and there, Bampas brought home something fabulous from his restaurant. It crossed my mind that if I were still going to dance lessons now, we’d be racing home from three different directions and have absolute chaos at the dinner hour.
Sometimes though, I just had to do it—stop and risk a high, steady arabesque right in front of the china cupboard. I’d watch for the reflection in the glass as I tried to point my toe inside my stiff boot. Bampas caught me in just such a pose the night after I’d seen Regina Colletti, and I had a basket of warmed bread balanced on the fingertips of one hand, no less.
“Bettina, my dining room is not a dance studio,” he muttered.
I drew down to a curtsy and set the bread basket gently on the table.
“How did Mrs. Colletti seem?” Momma called from the kitchen doorway.
“Oh, yes,” Bampas said, remembering. “You saw her today?”
“Yes. Hmm . . . she seemed less than she once was,” I said. I told them about the radiation sickness, the way Tony was pitching in to care for her. “She liked visiting. She wants me to come again,” I said. “On Tuesdays.”
“Tuesdays?” Bampas held the s on the end. “All Tuesdays?” He scowled. He stood beside the table and began to count my life off on his fingers. “So then you are cheerleading on all the Wednesdays. You are with Mrs. Colletti all the Tuesdays. You want to see the boyfriend on Friday night and Saturday night.” He was beginning to drone on. “Soon you are gone from home more days than not.”
“Well, do you want me to tell Regina—I mean, Mrs. Colletti, no then? Because, actually, Bampas, there’s something else. The cheerleaders are adding a practice on Mondays. And sometimes Fridays, too.” (Okay, I was accelerating things. But it would be true at some point, and I needed to get him used to the idea.) Bampas shook his head and put on a frown.
“No, no. You’ll come home.”
“Bampas, remember, I told you when I made the squad, it would eventually be every day after school?”
“Dinos, she did tell us this,” Mama said softly as she came in from the kitchen.
“Yes, and if you remember, Loreena, she did not ask permission to join in the first place,” Bampas said.
“Well, just the same . . .” Momma’s broad lips made a gentle smile.
Why does she always sound like she is apologizing to him? I wondered. She set a heavy, steaming dish of lamb and lentils down on a trivet and motioned at me. “Bettina, your bampas will need the serving spoon from the sideboard.” She touched my father’s sleeve and said, “I’ll call the boys.”
My father turned to me. “Perhaps you should stay late once winter comes and the basketball begins,” he said, “but it is not even October yet.” He set to filling plates and handing them to me. I adjusted place settings as I put each one down.
“Well, it’s not really my decision,” I said.
“No. It is mine.”
“You are going to tell the cheerleaders when to practice, Bampas?” I tried a coy smile but he missed it.
“Don’t be fresh,” he said calmly. Neither of us had missed a beat with the supper, and I set the last plate at my own spot. The boys came rushing in and slid into their chairs.
“Hey, never have to call you guys twice, huh?” I said.
“Lamb!” Avel said, and he rubbed his palms together. “I knew it! I smelled it!”
Momma handed me the water pitcher and I started around the table with it. “Bampas, I wasn’t being fresh. Just saying that practice is a school decision.” He did not respond. He looked at the table as if checking to see that everything was in order. I knew these moments. This was when I had little to lose. “Bampas?” I said, “what I really want to ask is if you will just allow me to stay after school every day?”
I felt Momma watching this. Sometimes you just know when someone in a room is holding little bit of breath for you.
“No!” Bampas scoffed. “There is no reason.”
“But I will always have something to do,” I suggested. “If I am not cheering, I’ll be in the art room or the library, or over at the Collettis’ on Tuesdays—”
“Collettis’? You meant Tony?” Favian asked. “Aw, we never see him anymore.”
“Or visiting with Brady before his practice,” I went on. I had not and would not mention that possibly hanging out at Unit 37 once in a while was also on my
mind.
Bampas clanked the serving spoon into the dish and stared me down. “You are asking for your momma or me to do extra driving all over here and there to pick you up every day? Look around the table, Bettina. How many family members do you see?” Avel gave me some help, slowly opening up one hand with five fingers spread wide.
“I see everyone,” I said, trying not to laugh at my brother. I explained to my father that I would be on a loop that pretty much coordinated with Favian’s and Avel’s activities. At this, I saw my mother nod slightly. If only she would pipe up! Instead, I was on my own. I told Bampas, “I can always borrow someone’s phone if we need to be in touch, and Brady will drive me home, or Tony, and maybe other kids can—”
“Oh, no, no, no! You won’t be in cars with just everyone,” Bampas said firmly. “I will look at my schedule and let you know what I decide. Let us eat our supper now.”
“I can also walk.” I couldn’t help adding. “I actually like walking. I’ll get myself wherever you or Momma say—”
Bampas knocked his knuckles against the table. “Siopi!” Something actually flew from his lips when he said it. He seemed even more flustered as he gathered a napkin over his mouth.
I knew to do like he said and shut up.
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Fifteen
IT WAS A LOUSY TIME, LOUSY DAY FOR ME TO VISIT THE dentist. First, leaving at 12:45 would mean missing the end of art class. Second, I had to check in at the office first thing in the morning, get my excuse confirmed with a phone call home, and wait for a med pass. There was always a line. That meant no time to take Cowboy a coffee. I had been trying to get back there. This day, I’d only just catch Brady at my locker. He told me something was up for Friday night, and once again, he wanted me there with him. “We’ll work it out,” he said. He gave my braid a gentle tug and took off.
The Things You Kiss Goodbye Page 6
