“Fun? Like old times?” Lily shook her head.
Iris reached under the table, and squeezed her sister’s hand.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Lily said.
“That would be great,” Iris said.
When the last strands of spaghetti had been wound around the forks, and the last scraps of bacon and egg mopped up from the plates with thick slices of crusty Italian bread, Auntie Rosa gripped her cane in one hand, and placed the other on the table, grimacing as she pulled herself to her feet. “Now, you girls go visit,” she said. “I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do. You just carry the things to the sink for me, and I’ll do the washing up.”
“Of course we’ll carry the dishes to the sink, Auntie Rosa. But you sit yourself back down for a few minutes. We made a promise to Uncle Alfred. The dishes can wait.”
Auntie Rosa could be a pretty darn stubborn Abruzzese at times, but if there was one person who could have her way with her, it was Iris. Having only made it halfway to her feet anyway, she obeyed without resistance, and dropped back into her seat.
“Would you mind clearing, Lily, while I get us set up?” Iris asked.
“Sure,” Lily said, as Iris walked away.
Entering Uncle Alfred’s bedroom, she spotted the instruments lined up around his bed like a cluster of old friends come to pay their respects. They had never strayed far from his side for as long as Iris could remember, and it moved her to think they would be there to see him through to the end. From the instruments, her eyes roamed to the bed, neatly made and puffed up with extra pillows by Auntie Rosa, who knew all about how to cushion the suffering of the ill; then to the closet, where she imagined Uncle Alfred’s crushed velvet jackets and tuxedos, cummerbunds and bow ties, moth-balled and zippered up in garment bags; then to the night table with its tray of little brown bottles that looked as out of place by the bed of a man who had never taken so much as an aspirin, as Kentucky bourbon in a holy water font. Iris sighed, and picked up Uncle Alfred’s Harmony Consolectric. Like her aunt and uncle, the old Hawaiian guitar seemed to have grown lighter and more frail with age. Uncle Alfred was air-washing his hands when she returned to the dining room and set the instrument in front of him on wobbly legs. The glint in his eyes and the smile on his face sent a rush of tenderness flowing through Iris; gone was the sick, aging man, back was the bandleader of Alfred’s Hawaiian Trio.
“I got this back before you were born, Iris,” he said, running his hands affectionately over the tweed-lined table top, along the strings, up the neck to the headstock. “I’ve had all kinds of guitars, but I never could part with this one. This is the one that got me hooked on Hawaiian music.”
“Is the height OK for you, Uncle Alfred?” Iris asked, seeing him wince as he struggled to pull himself tall in his chair.
“It’s fine, now that I can hardly stand long enough to tune up. You know, I never did think much of those fellows who play sitting down. Grown men looking for something to hold in their laps should get a cat.”
“He plays too darn much,” Auntie Rosa said. “I tell him to save his strength, but he pretends not to hear, even though I know he’s wearing his hearing aid!”
“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead, Rosa, but I have no guarantee that I’ll have a guitar to play.”
“Stop talking like that!” Auntie Rosa cried, scrunching her brow so hard that the puff of grey hair sitting atop her head shifted visibly, while Uncle Alfred chuckled.
When Iris returned from the bedroom a second time with the slide, the finger picks and the old Kamaka pineapple ukulele which, like Uncle Alfred and his Harmony, looked a little worse for the wear, Lily had finished clearing the table, and was standing off to the side, looking out the window.
“I just hope I remember something!” Iris said.
“Do you remember my first rule, to start with?”
“Yes, that I remember. Tune up.” Though Iris didn’t quite recall which strings corresponded to which notes on the ukulele, Uncle Alfred walked her through it in no time.
“Ready, Lily?” she said.
Lily walked over to them, the faraway look in her eyes making Iris wonder what she had been staring at out the window, what she had been thinking of and why. She knew so little about what her sister thought these days. Maybe playing a song or two together would help bridge the gap.
While she wondered, the first bended notes slid from the guitar and into the room, followed by a swell of balmy chords that gently washed over the underlying current of sadness, coating it with sweetness. Iris, following Uncle Alfred’s lead and lips as he mouthed the chord changes, began strumming the uke. She looked at Lily and nodded, knowing there was no way she could have forgotten the words to their old finale, holding her breath in the hope that she’d come through for them and start singing. Only when Iris saw Lily’s chest rise as she filled her lungs, did Iris release the air in hers.
“Across the sea, where the trade winds blow
You came to me, so long ago
Now my love is lost, but I’ll always know
You’ll be here with me, when the trade winds blow.
Mine is the heart, that won’t forget
The dreams we shared, without regret
We’ll meet again, where love will be
No Kau, a Kau, for eternity.”
As Lily sang, Iris looked at her dear old Uncle Alfred, his eyes half-closed, knowing he was right where he wanted to be at that moment, with a belly full of pasta, his fingers picking and sliding over the strings of his guitar, in the company of family. She looked at Auntie Rosa, always so hungry for togetherness, smiling and hugging herself as she gazed lovingly at one of them, then another, running her hands up and down her arms as if to chase away a chill. She looked at Lily, who sang with closed eyes. Iris waited for her lids to open, and reveal what was going on inside her. Instead, she fell silent.
“That’s about all I remember,” she mumbled, while Uncle Alfred and Iris played on. He and Auntie Rosa were still floating somewhere over Kona when Lily glanced at Iris, placed two fingers over her lips and jerked her head toward the door, indicating that she was going out for a smoke.
Dusk was just settling over the peaceful Valley Ranch cul-de-sac when Iris joined Lily on the porch.
“Thanks for singing, Lily,” she said. “It made Uncle Alfred happy.”
“Yeah, but it made me sad.”
“Me, too,” Iris said. “I’m starting to think they are inseparable.”
“Auntie Rosa and Uncle Alfred?”
“No, happiness and sadness.” Iris sighed. “Want some?” she said, holding up the bottle of Verdicchio she had brought outside with her, together with two glasses.
“Maybe just another drop,” Lily said. “Want one of these?” she said to Iris, flicking her wrist to shake a cigarette from a pack of Merits.
“I haven’t really smoked since high school,” Iris said. “Anyway, aren’t you smoking a bit too much?”
“Only occasionally. And aren’t you drinking a bit too much?”
“Only occasionally,” Iris said. She pointed her puckered lips at Lily, who placed a cigarette in them, and lit it. “Auntie Rosa would have a fit if she saw me. And so would Gregorio.”
“You’re a big girl now, Iris. Plus, who’s telling?” Lily said, lighting her own cigarette. She threw back her head and exhaled, the waves of her thick hair brushing her narrow shoulders. Iris thought Lily looked fabulous with her hair this length, and that not even the best actresses could strike the poses that came naturally to her. It was a pity she seemed to have given up the idea of acting, and an even greater pity she didn’t seem to be taking very good care of herself. Her pants were stretched too tight across her butt, and she was pale, as if she never got out in the fresh air.
“Speaking of Gregorio, how come he didn’t come?” Lily asked.
“He wanted to, but he had too much going on,” Iris said.
“Couldn’t you have waited until he could ge
t vacation, too?” Lily said.
“I suppose so. But the point is, I really wanted to come by myself. It’s hard to explain why. I guess I just feel like home is the one place that belongs to me. Even if now it’s here at Auntie Rosa’s, instead of at Chestnut Crest.”
“And he just let you go on vacation without him? Without giving you a hard time?”
“It’s not like I was going on a singles’ cruise or anything, Lily. It’s just home.”
“I can’t imagine Joe letting me go away all by myself,” she said, blowing smoke into the evening air.
“I did have to do some finagling,” Iris said.
“You mean you lied to him?”
“No, I didn’t lie. It was just like we used to do with Mom and Dad when we were kids and had to ask for permission. It’s all in how you ask for things. I knew Gregorio had signed up for this European anesthesiology conference in Amsterdam, and so I started dropping hints about how homesick I’d been lately, thinking about Dad being gone, and how Uncle Alfred probably wouldn’t be around much longer, and how upset Auntie Rosa must be, and how frustrated and depressed I was about not getting pregnant. He basically suggested that a visit home might do me good. I made it look like it was his idea. The only thing left for me to do was agree and thank him for being so sensitive to my needs.”
“Good thinking,” Lily said.
“I think he was relieved, deep down. Gregorio works hard, and he needs his peace and quiet. I think he is a bit overwhelmed by our family.”
“Well, it’s not like you don’t get to take vacations together or anything. I got that postcard you sent from that island last year. Where was it again? Sardinia?” Lily said.
“No, that’s where we went on our honeymoon. Last year we went Corsica. It’s just north of Sardinia, but it’s actually part of France.”
“Oh,” Lily said, grinding out her cigarette with the toe of her sneaker. “Beautiful.”
“Yeah, it was. Gregorio said the marine life was incredible. He was gone most of the day with his diving group. But I didn’t mind. I went swimming, rested on the beach, read. The nature on that island is beautiful, still pretty wild, an amazing place for hiking and biking,” Iris said. She took a drag on her cigarette. “But of course all those activities were off limits to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Too strenuous. Just in case. After my operation, they said I had a decent shot at getting pregnant, with one tube open. God forbid I should miscarry after all that work.” She stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette on the ground, and set it on a fallen leaf, so she would remember to pick it up.
“Sorry about that, Iris. I know what you mean.”
“I’m sorry about you, too, Lily.” Iris poured herself some more wine. “I wanted to ask you something, while we’re on the subject.”
“What?”
“Well, you had your miscarriage a long time ago. Maybe there’s another undiagnosed problem.”
“What do you mean?” Lily asked, lighting up another cigarette.
“I’ve gone through a whole battery of exams, and Gregorio was tested too. It’s actually a miracle anyone gets pregnant, when you realize how many factors can prevent it. You might want to consider investigating.”
“I don’t think we need any tests,” Lily said, looking at the ground. “I got pregnant twice, and it’ll happen again, when the time is right.”
“Sure it will. It was just a suggestion.”
Looking up at Iris, Lily said, “I can see Gregorio being in hurry and all, given his age, but it’s different for me and Joe. We’re both still young. We have time.”
“Of course you do. But you know, it’s really important to stay healthy in the meantime. Cigarettes might not be a great idea.” Before Lily could criticize Iris for her wine-drinking, she added, “Do you get any exercise?”
“Not really, just the workouts I get housecleaning and lugging around stuff at work. I did have a free trial membership at the gym up at the plaza, but it was only good for two weeks. Anyway, Joe didn’t like me going there because it was co-ed. Besides, those guys are crooks, making you sign a two-year contract. Anything can happen in two years.”
“Yeah, I hate gyms, too. They’re all so dinky and stinky where I live. I’ve always preferred to work out at home, at my own pace and to music I like. Queen is great, for example, and Freddie psyches me up. Mostly I just run now, though, since I started getting complaints about the music.”
“Complaints? Who could that possibly bother?”
“Cinzia. You remember that picture I sent you last year, of our new house?”
Lily nodded her head.
“Well, the villa has three floors, and there’s an apartment on each floor. Cinzia and her family got the ground floor, since they have three kids, and are always in and out of the house. Anyway, one day I was doing my biceps curls, or sit-ups or whatever, I don’t remember, to ‘Another One Bites the Dust,’ and Cinzia came storming upstairs all hysterical, saying it was the kids’ nap time, then went on to tell me how I wouldn’t know, naturally, because I’m not a mother, but that children’s needs take priority over all else. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Sounds like a nice sister-in-law,” Lily said. “Not that mine are much better.”
“Cinzia’s not bad, you just have to get used to her ways, like with all the Leales. After all, I have to remind myself, I’m the one who went to live in their country, and was accepted into their family, not the other way around. Plus, like Gregorio says, we should be grateful to have some little kids to liven the place up, since we don’t have any of our own.”
“So are you on the top floor?”
“No, we’re on the middle floor, just above Cinzia. Isabella is on the top floor. There’s a nice terrace there, where she likes to sit and read or sun herself in private, now that she’s retired. There’s a beautiful view of the olive groves from up there, too.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Yes. It’s an ideal arrangement for everyone. Isabella’s not getting any younger, and Gregorio’s so much busier at the hospital since he got his promotion, he feels better knowing I’m right there if she needs anything.”
It was ideal, no doubt about that. So ideal that Iris, ready to celebrate after they settled in, had thrown a nice little dinner party. In addition to Gregorio’s usual diving buddies and Policlinico colleagues, she had invited her girlfriends Deirdre and Liz, who turned up with a bottle of Jack Daniels which they passed around for shots after dinner, a detail which was instrumental in convincing Iris to take out her guitar and play. It was only eleven o’clock when Gregorio started hushing their laughter and singing, for fear of disturbing his Mamma’s sleep. He concluded the evening by brewing a pot of chamomile before sending the guests on their way. By midnight, the guitar had been returned to its corner behind the couch, and peace and order had been restored to the Leale villa.
“Speaking of mothers,” Iris said. “I wanted to tell you something. I went to see Mom today. At least, I think it was her. There was another name on the doorbell at her apartment. But I did recognize the woman who opened the door and invited me in for a cup of coffee.”
“I can’t believe no one told you she changed her name,” Lily said. Iris wondered who should have told her, if not Lily. She had always been the one who knew what their mother was up to; she could have written.
“But why Regina Masterly? Where did that come from?” Iris asked.
“She said she wanted a name that would sound both classy and bossy, you know? Like someone in control of things.”
“Whatever works,” Iris said. She reached for the bottle of Verdicchio, refilled her empty glass and topped off Lily’s, from which only a few sips had been taken.
“She told me about her work with women’s groups around the country. They’re trying to devise some kind of a strategy to resuscitate support for the Equal Rights Amendment, even though the deadline for the ratification expired years ago. I don’t really get much of thi
s news in Italy. Do you know what’s going on?”
“Of course, I’ve heard all about it,” Lily said. “Many times.”
“Interesting stuff,” Iris said. “I’m kind of proud of her, actually. It would have been nice if she had asked how I was doing, though.”
“You know her. She’s always been more interested in the big picture.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Through the screen door, Iris could hear the clinking of dishes. Auntie Rosa had insisted on washing them herself, shooing away the girls so they could have a little visit. Iris had gone along with her wishes, knowing she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had sterilized everything in sight. A dog barked in the distance. The wail of an approaching freight train transported Iris back to the bedroom she had shared with Lily, to summer nights with the window thrown wide open, to the chirping of crickets commingling with their soft chatter, to hopes that a breeze would flutter in to relieve them of the heat, and that pleasant dreams would relieve them of reality.
“Remember ...” they said at the same time. A soft chuckle escaped them both; they looked at each other, then fell silent.
Lily lit another cigarette. Iris sipped her wine.
“Jasmine is coming for the weekend,” Iris said. “She’ll be staying at Violet’s. Marguerite’s going to try and make it, too.”
“I didn’t know that. No one told me,” Lily said, her voice wrapped tight around the words.
“I’m telling you now. I just convinced them today. I thought it would be fun if we could all do something together. Just us sisters.”
“Sure it would,” Lily said.
“I was thinking we could go horseback riding, then maybe grab a bite somewhere. I just got my period and my Italian stallion is not around to inseminate me, so I know I’m safe. I guess you are, too.”
“Well, I’m not really sure,” Lily said. “It’s sort of that time of the month. And I don’t even know how to ride.”
“We’ll just have a little trail ride, nothing strenuous. We’ll have them saddle up a couple of old nags for the two of us. It’s not often we get a chance to do something like this. Plus, the fresh air and exercise will do you good.”
[Iris and Lily 01.0 - 03.0] The Complete Series Page 74
