The First Nine Lives of Isabella LaFelini

by Harvey, Rhonda

  “I thought you said it was a brown dog,” the officer squinted at the teen. “What kind of game are you playing, pal?”

  Realizing he was about to get into trouble, the purple-haired boy turned and ran. The animal control officer made his way back to his truck, shaking his head about the wasted time. It would be another hour before he realized he was one red cat short.

  Nonna Rose ducked into the alley behind the deli with Isabella still in the crate. “Let-a-me getchu outta there,” she told her great-granddaughter. “It seems that you and I need to talk.”

  The old woman opened the crate door and gently extracted cat Isabella. “How long-a have you been-a dealing wid this?”

  “A few weeks, since the beginning of June—right after school let out,” Isabella answered her in the little cat voice. “I wanted to talk to you about it. I knew you could help me. But, Nonna Rose, what are we gonna tell my mom?”

  “Let-a me worry ‘bout that. First, let’s getchu back to normale.” She pronounced the word nor-mal-ay. The old woman mumbled a few words in Italian, and Isabella found herself getting very sleepy. “I’m a-gonna put you down now,” Nonna Rose told her. Within moments, Isabella was fast asleep. She awoke as girl Isabella as Nonna Rose shook her shoulder. “Come on wid me. And you let-a me do all the talkin’”

  When Theresa and Luci walked dejectedly into the deli, Isabella and Nonna Rose were sitting at the table, sipping egg creamers.

  “Isabella!?” her mother exclaimed. “Where have you been? Your grandmother and I have been all over Manhattan looking for you!” To Nonna Rose, she said, “And why didn’t you call us to let us know you found her?”

  “Call you? How? You know I don’t unnerstand this tecnologia!”

  “Where were you?” demanded Grandma Theresa.

  “Um…” Isabella stalled, feeling her face redden as she did.

  “At that-a building,” Nonna Rose interjected, “where her daddy…” She stopped here and again made the sign of the cross, “died. The poor girl…” She winked discreetly at Isabella, “she wasn’t even herself.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Isabella put on her best “apology” face, “I just needed to go there. You know,” she seized the opportunity, “if you bought me that cell phone I’ve been asking for, you would’ve been able to call me…”

  “I don’t know whether to hug you or strangle you, Isabella. You scared me half to death! Promise me you won’t do that again!”

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Isabella repeated, this time with more sincerity. “The last thing I wanted to do was upset you.” She got up and hugged her mother tightly. “Let’s go home, huh? To Brooklyn, I mean. I’m really tired.”

  “Tired?” Luci sighed. “Yes, I guess it’s been a rather emotional day. C’mon, let’s go. Maybe I’ll buy you a giant pretzel on the way to the subway…”

  “Oh, yes, please! Mom, you’re the best. And Nonna Rose, thank you for being so…so understanding today.” She threw her arms around her great-grandmother who whispered in her ear, “You and I, Bella, we’re a-gonna talk. Soon.” Isabella nodded and hugged the old woman tightly. “Si, Nonna.”

  The subway ride back to Grandma Theresa’s was quiet and uneventful. As soon as they arrived home, Isabella went upstairs to bed. “Mom, do you mind? I have a really bad headache…”

  “A headache? Isabella, it seems you’re having a lot of them lately. When we get home, we should have your eyes checked. Take an ibuprofen or two, if it’s bad. I have a small bottle in my purse. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Don’t let me sleep too long…just an hour or so, okay? Sierra might be back in town tonight, and I’d like to see her. Talk to you later.” With that, she scaled the stairs to the upstairs guest room.

  Nonna Rose made an excuse to go upstairs and gently knocked on the guest room door. “Bella? The headaches? They come-a after? After the…”

  “Transformations?” Isabella supplied the word while keeping her eyes closed. “Si, Nonna. Sometimes they’re really bad; other times, not too bad at all. But today—oh, it’s really, really bad. Nonna, I want you to tell me everything you know about this…it’s the LaFelini curse, isn’t it? Please. I need you to tell me everything.”

  “Bella, tonight your mother and Theresa, my Freddie and Arturo will go out to dinner. You won’t feel well enough to go—and I’ll offer to stay wid you. We will talk then. For now, you-a need your rest, Bella. Get some sleep, amore mia.” And Nonna Rose eased out the guest room door—and Isabella rolled over and fell asleep.

  Fifteen: Blackbeard’s Curse

  “ISABELLA?” LUCI ASKED as she gently shook the girl awake. “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for more than two hours, hon. I know you said not to let you sleep too long, but you seemed to be hurting. Sierra called—she’s spending the night at her dad’s, so you can come with us to dinner if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Oh, Mom, thanks. You know, my head is still really hurting. You wouldn’t mind if I stayed home, would you?”

  “Well, no, I guess not,” Luci bit her bottom lip. “I mean, we are going to that Thai place that you love so much…I know you are always complaining you can’t find good Thai food at home…”

  Isabella groaned. “Thai? Oh, Mom, I love that place.” She remembered that she and Nonna Rose were supposed to talk about the curse tonight, so she continued with, “But the truth is, I’m really not feeling up to it tonight. Maybe you could bring me some satay? And those crispy wontons with that sweet sauce?”

  Luci laughed. “Hmm, maybe you’re not as bad off as you think? Yes, darling daughter, I’ll bring you satay and wontons. Anything else?”

  “Well,” Isabella started, “maybe some peanut chicken curry?”

  Luci laughed again. “I’m going to get out of here before it costs me any more money. I’ll close the door on my way out. You just continue to lie here in the dark. Maybe we need to get you tested for migraines or something, Isabella. Just to be safe. Maybe run a cat scan or something…” she finished, talking to herself more than to Isabella as she left the room.

  “Cat scan! How ironic is that?” Isabella muttered before punching the pillow and rolling over to go back to sleep for a while. Nonna Rose would be upstairs when the coast was clear—and then they were going to talk about the LaFelini curse that seemed to be plaguing Isabella. I wonder who else has had this problem, she thought to herself. For Nonna Rose to know about it, at least someone else in the family must ’ve transformed, too…I wonder what they did to get over it…geez, I wonder if they ever did get over it. Can you imagine? Turning into a cat for the rest of my life!? That would be just horrible! She sighed at the thought and went back to sleep.

  “SO, TELL-A ME,” Nonna Rose started as she nudged Isabella awake. “This-a thing? It has happened before, yes?”

  Isabella rubbed her eyes, yawned and said, “Yes, Nonna. Since early June, like I told you.”

  “How-a many times?”

  “How—”she yawned widely, “many times? I dunno. Six, I think. Five or six.

  “Six?!” Nonna Rose sounded alarmed. “Oh, Bella, Bella, Bella. It is a good thing you are here. Non importa quale, non si pu ò lasciare che accada nove eventi! Nove e molto pericoloso.”

  “Very dangerous?” Isabella attempted to translate her great-grandmother’s words. “Under no circumstances can I transform nine times? Nonna, why is nine very dangerous?”

  “You can’a turn again. Very dangerous. You might not change back, Bella. Listen to me. You can’a turn again. Molto pericoloso. Molto pericoloso!”

  “Nonna, please quit saying ‘very dangerous’. Just tell me why, Nonna. What are you worried about? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Nonna sat on the edge of the bed. “Isabella, you unnerstand this is because of the LaFelini curse?”

  Isabella nodded, so Rose continued.

  “The curse,” she made the sign of the cross by touching her forehead, center chest and then to the left and right, “was started by
your great-great-great…I dunno how many greats—grandfather who…ah…come si dice?” She pronounced this, “Coma say dee chay.”

  “How do you say what, Nonna?”

  “Rubare? Imbrogliare?” “Roo bar ay” and “im bro lee ar ay.”

  Isabella thought hard. She thought ‘rubare’ was the same as ‘to steal’ or ‘to rob’, but ‘ imbrogliare’ was a difficult one. “Nonna, I think rubare means to steal, but I don’t know the other word. But my mom told me that great-great-great-great-great-grandpa Giovanni LaFelini cheated the pirate Blackbeard or something?”

  Nonna Rose nodded. “Si, cheated. Dat’s the word. And that pirata Blackbeard, he had a gypsy to put a curse on Gio and all his discendenti—um, familia…you know, family.”

  Isabella nodded, a bit impatient. “Nonna, I know all this. That there’s a curse on the LaFelini family because of the gypsy curse—if you believe in curses, that is. But how does that explain this cat thing? And why me? And what’s wrong with my necklace? And why is nine dangerous? And what were those words you said over me that helped me change back so fast?”

  “One question at a time, Bella. Give an old lady a break,” Nonna smiled for the first time in the conversation.

  “The curse has been in the LaFelini family all these years, and no one can-a take it off. The words you heard me say—they were taught to me by an old Gypsy woman who took pity on the familia. The words—they only make the…come si dice…the trans… transformations shorter, but do not stoppa them.”

  Isabella nodded, “Go on, Nonna.”

  “You asked why you. Part of the problem is dat thing.” She pointed to Isabella’s pendant. “What do you know ‘bout dat thing?”

  Isabella shrugged. “Mom bought it for me in North Carolina, like I said. It’s old, I guess. The man at the store said it was something pirates used to gamble or play games or something…I think he was just looking for more money. I just thought it was cool.”

  Nonna Rose shook her head. “Is bad, Isabella, very very bad. Pirati. That bastardo Blackbeard. Bella,” she paused, looked at the pendant and shivered. “Dat thing…it’s why you turn.”

  “What? No, Nonna. I…I thought it was my ring.”

  “Anello? Ring? What ring?”

  “The one Daddy gave me for my first communion. That belonged to No-no’s sister?”

  “Ah, that ring. No, Bella, that ring was blessed by the Pope hisself. No…it’s che cosa. Dat thing.” She pointed at Isabella’s necklace. “Pirati, Bella. It belonged to pirati. You need to throw it away.”

  “Throw it away? I…don’t…I don’t understand, Nonna. I transformed when I rubbed the ring. That’s why I thought it was the ring. But you don’t think so? You think that this belonged to Blackbeard? You think that’s why I transform?”

  Nonna shook her head. “Not ‘xactly, Bella. La maledizione—the curse—it is in your family. But I think dat thing makes it worse.” She hesitated, then continued, “it’s the women, Isabella. The women in the familia who get this…this malattia.”

  “Disease? Nonna, you think this is a disease?”

  The old woman shrugged. “You think it is something else? Maybe una benedizione?”

  “No, Nonna, not a blessing—not exactly, but if the necklace does control it, maybe I could control when it happens. Maybe it could be good…or helpful…you know?”

  “Control? You can’a control this…this curse!” She spat in three short bursts. “Isabella, I know you. You are…how you say…strong headed. This curse—you can’a control it…it will control you!”

  “But Nonna…how do you know? Has anyone ever tried to control it? I mean, it might be kinda cool if I could become a cat when…um…when…well, imagine that we got stuck in an elevator. I could turn into a cat and go get help.”

  Nonna Rose looked at Isabella as if the girl had lost her mind totally and completely. “Idiota!”

  Isabella winced. That word didn’t need any translation.

  “I thought that mi familia was stupida but you LaFelinis—you make the Marano familia look like geni —geniuses!” She added in case Isabella didn’t understand.

  Isabella sulked a little. “Yeah, Nonna, I got it.” She sighed heavily. “I just figure if I’m stuck with this curse, I’d try to make the best of it. I am stuck with it, right?”

  Nonna Rose nodded sadly. “Si, mi amore, you are, as you say, stuck. But by itself—it might not happen again. Not soon, Bella. That’s why you need to get ridda dat thing.” Again, she indicated the necklace with disdain. “You can’a risk turnin’ again, Bella. Too close to nine. Too close to nine.”

  “Nonna, what’s the big deal about nine? So what if I transform nine times?”

  “What’s the big deal? The big-a deal? The big deal, Miss Know-it-all is that nine is bad—very bad. Isabella, if you change nine times, you may not change back. You could stay a cat. Capisce?”

  “Stay a cat? Seriously, Nonna? Has…has,” she was afraid to ask the question, “has someone in the family st-stayed a cat?” The idea was horrifying.

  Nonna Rose nodded. “It was Gio’s granddaughter, Sofia. She was about nineteen. She disappeared one night—and no one ever saw her again. But after that, there was a leetle white pussycat that started a-comin’ aroun’ that no one had ever seen before. And this-a kitty, she loved Gio. And Gio never liked cats at all—because of the curse, of course—but this leetle cat…she would purr and meow and get all in his lap. Gio, he softened because he knew that the gattina was the girl. So you see? You can’a turn again.”

  Isabella fought the urge to laugh. “Nonna, um, did you ever think that maybe the nineteen-year-old ran off with a boy and the kitten was just a coincidence? Coincidenza?”

  Isabella thought that Rose was going to have a heart attack. “Coincidenza? No coincidenza! La verità! It’s the truth! And if it could happen to Sofia, it can happen to you!”

  “Calm down, Nonna Rose. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll throw the necklace away.” Like heck I will, Isabella thought willfully. If I can learn to control this thing, I’ve got it made! “Um, Nonna, does that mean that it’ll never happen again?”

  Nonna Rose looked skyward and crossed herself again. “I wish, mi amore, I wish. Prob’ly it will happen again, Isabella. But maybe not ‘til you are older. It’s la maledizione—the curse. It’s the price of being a LaFelini. But maybe less, maybe much less.”

  “Nonna,” Isabella tried again, “those words you said. That wasn’t Italian, was it?”

  “No, no, not Italian. It was Romani…Gypsy language.”

  “Romani?”

  Rose nodded. “Si, Romani. It can’a make the curse go away forever, but it can make shorter the time you are a cat.”

  “Teach me?”

  Nonna Rose narrowed her eyes. “Perché? Why do you want to know?”

  “Because, Nonna Rose. What if it happens again? What if I transform again? Shouldn’t I be able to return faster?”

  “No! If it happens, you call me. I will release you.”

  “What if I can’t get to the phone, Nonna? Don’t you think…”

  “‘Nuff!” Nonna exclaimed. “You—you are trying to play with this. This ting, Missy I-know-everyting, this curse is nothin’ to play with.”

  Isabella widened her eyes in a manner that she hoped was convincing. “Nonna Rose, I understand. I know that this is nothing to play with.” She had a sudden idea. “Nonna, don’t tell me the words in Romani. You can just tell me what it means in English—or Italian if that’s easier for you.”

  Nonna Rose looked pensive. “If you use-a dis ting in a bad way, Isabella…” She hesitated, then continued. “Okay—it means ‘Long ago the family was cursed/ I want to help them to avoid the…um…come si dice…um..worst. Lift the curse from this little cat/so she can get her human form back.’”

  “Nonna, that rhymes! It rhymes in English! It’s like a little poem.”

  The old woman nodded. “Si, poesia. Ma una poesia potente, Isabella. Molto po
tente.”

  Isabella nodded solemnly. “Yes, Nonna, a very powerful poem. Thank you for telling me. Now…if you don’t mind, I’d like to lie down; my headache is back, and it’s terrible.”

  Nonna Rose stood slowly, “Oh,” she groaned, “my arthur-itis is a-killin’ me!” She bent to kiss Isabella’s forehead. “Dormi, mia piccolo bambola!” Sleep, my little doll. She walked stiffly to the door, turned and threw Isabella a kiss. “G’night, Bella.”

  Isabella waited until she heard the old woman’s orthopedic shoes on the stairs before she pulled out her laptop. She logged on and quickly went to Google Translate. She had to find out how to translate the poem to Romani—it could save her life!

  But to her dismay, Google didn’t have “Romani” as one of its languages. “Hmm,” Isabella thought aloud, “no Romani, but here’s Romanian…I wonder if that’s the same…” She quickly typed in the words of the little poem, and received this translation: Mult timp î n urmă familia a fost blestemat. Vreau să le ajute să evite cele mai grave. A ridica blestemul de la acest pisica puţin, aşa că ea poate lua forma ei umane înapoi.

  Isabella stared at the letters. “How on earth do you say this? What’s the teepee accent mark over the ‘i’, anyway?” She recognized a few words. “Well, familia is the same as in Italian. And umane must be ‘human’. Forma for ‘form’. Hmm. Well, here are two words that are really similar—blestemat and blestemul. They must be ‘cursed’ and ‘curse’. But I don’t think these are the words Nonna Rose said…”

  Isabella’s thoughts were interrupted by the ringing telephone. “I’ll get it, Nonna!” she called down the stairs—forgetting she had told the old woman she was going to sleep. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Isabella,” came Ty’s familiar voice. “How’s New York?”

  “Ty! I am so glad to hear your voice! You would not believe what’s happened over the last twenty-four hours! Ty, it’s not the ring…”

  “It’s not? You mean that you…”