Carissima

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  “And I know just how you can make it up to me.”

  “Already? You don’t waste time.” I shake my head. “So what’s my penalty?”

  “Hang out with me tomorrow night.”

  He’s asking me out on a date? Why am I surprised? The chemistry between us has been unmistakable. I need to tread carefully. Bartering his scoring an interview with Francesca for a date with me doesn’t seem wise. Then again, what’s the harm? My tendency to overanalyze every situation can get out of control. There’s no denying I like him. And I haven’t had a date since before Erica died.

  “I’d have to get home early. It’s a Sunday night, and I work the next morning.”

  “Let’s move it up then to the afternoon. We’ll have lunch and then there are a couple of places I want to show you. I’ll take you home right after dinner.”

  He wants to hang with me for most of the day? I’m speechless, which he takes as my assent.

  “I’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty. Sound good? I can swing by your aunt’s or if you want we can meet at her bakery. It’s up to you.”

  “My aunt’s is fine.”

  “Great!”

  We turn onto 35th Street. I don’t want Zia seeing him with me. I’m not ready for the barrage of questions she’ll no doubt have. I’ll be better prepared for her interrogation when I tell her about my date over dinner. I just need a few hours to myself to absorb that I have a date tomorrow.

  “Thanks, but I can manage with the bags to my aunt’s house.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I’m not in a rush to be anywhere.”

  I remain quiet until we reach Zia’s house. “Thanks, Gregory. I can take the bags into the house.”

  As he hands the bags over to me, he hesitates before he pulls away. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but as soon as the thought enters my mind, he steps back a few feet.

  “So I’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty.” He pulls out of his front jeans pocket his cell phone. “Can I get your number?”

  I recite the numbers to my cell.

  “I’ll send you a text so you have my number, too, just in case an emergency arises and you need to cancel. But don’t get any ideas!” Gregory waves his index finger at me.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck with Francesca tonight.”

  “Thanks, Pia. Have a nice day.”

  I turn around as I insert my key into Zia’s front door.

  “Hey, Pia. Would it be okay if . . .” Gregory’s voice trails off. I look over my shoulder.

  “Would it be okay if I called you tonight? Just to let you know how things went with Francesca. I might need someone to talk to, especially if I do turn her down. You know, I’ll need someone to make me feel better about possibly squandering an opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “Sure. I guess that would be okay.”

  Gregory’s face lights up. “I’ll talk to you then.”

  I step into Zia’s house, anxious to set the heavy bags down on the kitchen table. As I make my way back to the foyer to shut the front door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall and see a sight I haven’t seen in years. I look happy. But the moment I realize this, the happiness is replaced by guilt. How can I be excited and go out on a date when my younger sister won’t ever have the chance to feel joy again or fall in love?

  I slam the front door shut as I mentally chide myself for accepting Gregory’s date. My phone beeps. I pull it out of the small messenger bag that’s still slung over my shoulder. It’s a text from Gregory:

  NOW YOU HAVE MY NUMBER. LOOKING FORWARD TO TALKING TO YOU TONIGHT. GREGORY.

  I save Gregory’s number before deleting the text and return to the kitchen to put the groceries away. I’ll have to figure out what to do about Gregory later. I don’t have the energy for it now. But try as hard as I do to put him out of my thoughts, all I can think about is tomorrow and where he’s planning on taking me. That is, if I decide to keep the date.

  10

  Francesca

  “How many gifts have you received now?” Giuliana is sitting across from me at the table in the morning room, where she likes to take her breakfast. She is making a feeble attempt at eating her two biscotti. I let her nibble on the biscotti and pretend not to notice that she’s hardly making a dent. Her appetite seems to be diminishing every day.

  “This is the fifth present.” I stare at yet another royal-blue velvet jewelry box that Angelica brought in just as we were sitting down. My hopes of keeping the anonymous gifts a secret from Giuliana completely faded when she answered the door herself the last two times the packages were delivered. Although she has three servants, she still likes to do a few of her own chores.

  “Why are you waiting? Open it. I know you are dying to see which jewels he’s chosen this time.” Giuliana has looked forward to the mysterious gifts more than I have. Initially, I’d been afraid they would make her jealous, but if she’s been feeling envious, she’s hidden it rather well.

  “Normally, I would agree with you, Giuliana, but this is beginning to alarm me.” Oh, I am a fool! Why did I say that? My sister does not need to be stressed out right now.

  “Since when has an admirer alarmed you, Francesca? You’ve had countless admirers for decades now. I would think you would be thrilled that at your age you still have them—or one in this case.” Giuliana’s faint smile reassures me she is only teasing.

  “I have never had an admirer remain anonymous after two gifts or letters. I am afraid this might be a deranged stalker. And I am staying in your home. I have disrupted your privacy, and God knows I might be placing you in harm’s way. I must leave now. You should come with me to Sicily. Please, Giuliana.” I am so upset that I cannot eat or drink. I get up and pace the room. Of course, Mewsette is up in an instant and follows me. The cat has become my lady-in-waiting.

  “Francesca, stop being so dramatic! This isn’t one of your films. Si, si, receiving five pieces of extraordinary jewelry in a week isn’t normal life either, but come on! Do you really think there is an insane wealthy person out there who wants to harm you or me? I know you celebrities have stalkers and have to be careful, but this is Astoria. I’ve lived here a long time. We have honest, hardworking people. You have nothing to worry about.” Giuliana starts laughing, but soon a fit of coughing erupts instead.

  I pour a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and hand it to Giuliana. Once her coughing has subsided, I say, “Giuliana, I do not doubt you have honest, good people here, but this is still New York City—the largest city in the country—with hundreds of pazzi . . .” I point to my head, giving her the signal for crazy people.

  “And you think you will be safe in Sicily?” Giuliana shakes her cane at me. “Help me up.”

  I walk over and place my hand under her arm to assist in lifting her. It takes a few seconds for Giuliana to feel steady on her feet. I stay by her side as she takes a few steps forward.

  “Take me out to the terrace. Oh, that’s right. You can’t be seen.” Giuliana’s voice drips with sarcasm. Although she has been kind to me, and I can tell our relationship is beginning to mend, she still cannot resist mocking me and my celebrity status.

  “Let me call Carlo and Angelica. They can take you out there and sit with you if you want some fresh air.” I turn to leave, but she grabs my arm.

  “And disappoint your loyal followers who have been waiting for days to see your face only to see my sickly one? They’ll probably think it’s you and that you’ve come here to convalesce. Ha!” Giuliana laughs so hard that tears fill her eyes. Fortunately, there is a settee nearby that she lowers herself onto before she slips.

  “Si! È vero! I can see the tabloids now. Italian movie star loses her beauty!” Now I am laughing to the point of tears. Then suddenly, the horror hits me as I realize what I have said. “Scusi, Giuliana. Volevo dire che—”

  “Non ti preoccupare.” Giuliana holds up her hand, letting me know it is okay.

  “I am sorry. I just meant—”r />
  “Basta!” Giuliana’s voice booms loudly. I am surprised she even has the energy to scream. “There is no need for you to lie. You think I do not know I’ve lost what little beauty I once had?”

  “Little beauty? You were—and still are—one of the most beautiful women I know.”

  “Stop patronizing me! You were always the beautiful one, not me!” Giuliana is still screaming as she points her index finger repeatedly to her chest. “I was the plain sister. Plain—a nice way of saying ‘brutta’ or ‘ugly.’ When we were young children, people were more attracted to you. It was always you who was the center of attention. Never me.” The warm, friendly tone Giuliana had earlier has now been replaced with the resentful tone I’ve grown accustomed to since we had our falling-out as teenagers.

  “Even my own cat prefers you to me.” She stares at Mewsette, who is lying over my feet, waiting for me to rub her belly. Giuliana’s eyes are full of hurt that her loyal feline companion has also betrayed her.

  It is useless for me to say anything since it seems whatever I say just angers my sister more. I pull my feet out from under Mewsette and walk back to the table. Giuliana’s cane taps the floor behind me as she struggles to get to her feet. Of course, I want to help her, but she will just lash out at me once again. Her pride demands it. After what feels like an eternity, I hear the floorboards creak under Giuliana’s weight as she hobbles out of the room. And just in case her previous shouting did not deliver its point, she slams the door shut.

  Rubbing my throbbing temples, I can feel a headache coming on. I shut my eyes tightly, forcing back the tears that have surfaced. Giuliana will never forgive me. The only reason she is tolerating my stay here is because of Lorenzo, who has yet to pay a visit since I have arrived. True, he is finishing up a research trip in Greece, but his mother needs him now. She should be his number one priority, not his career. Still, he did write to me, asking me to come. His love for his mother was clearly evident in his letter.

  A new wave of pain shoots through my heart as I am reminded once again that I will never know what it is like to have the love of a child reciprocated. Sighing, I turn my attention again to the unopened gift from my secret admirer. Anger seeps into me. “You started this. Who are you?”

  Mewsette jumps up into my lap, troubled that I am talking to myself.

  I have a bad habit whenever I receive a gift. Instead of opening the card first, I rush to unwrap the present. I am much like a child this way, impatient to discover what my surprise is. But this time, I open the envelope first, hoping that my secret admirer will finally reveal himself to me. What makes me so sure the gifts are from a man? Well, that would be a first if they were from a woman. Until proven wrong, I will assume they are from a man.

  “Spero che ogni regalo è stato per la vostra soddisfazione.”

  Strange. The previous notes were all specifically tied to the jewels and my beauty. In this note, he is just expressing hope that the gifts have been to my liking. Hmmm . . . It is almost as if he wants a response from me. But how can I do that if I do not know who is giving the gifts or even which jeweler they have come from?

  I must unravel this mystery. A week has passed since I received my first gift, and in just seven days, four more have arrived.

  “Mi scusi, Signorina Donata.” Angelica enters the morning room and begins clearing Giuliana’s hardly eaten breakfast.

  “Angelica, how many jewelry stores are in Astoria?”

  “I don’t know about all of Astoria, but on Ditmars Boulevard, there are three. Steinway Street has many more, but a lot of them are smaller, cheaper stores.”

  “I see. Do you shop at any of these jewelers?”

  Angelica seems surprised that I have asked her this question. She quickly places the breakfast dishes onto a tray.

  “Not often. But two of the jewelry shops on Ditmars are my favorites when I want to treat myself to something nice.” Angelica tilts her head slightly, showing me the princess-cut diamond studs in her ears.

  “Sono belli! So you have a weakness for jewelry, too?” I smile at Angelica. Again, she looks surprised—not that I blame her. I have been rather harsh with her. Unfortunately, I have come to discover that you cannot befriend your help or else they will walk all over you. Besides, they appreciate discipline.

  “Yes, but I don’t own anything as extravagant as you do, Signorina Donata.”

  “Maybe you can help me. I have been receiving gifts from the same jewelry shop—at least I think they are from the same jeweler since the boxes all look the same. But the name of the shop is not imprinted inside the box, and it appears the giver of the gifts wants to remain anonymous for some reason.”

  “Ahhh! A secret admirer! How romantic!” Angelica’s eyes open wide. She actually reminds me of Rosa Bianca, the character I played in La Sposa Pazza, who was more in love with the notion of love rather than any of her three fiancés. The director of the movie had worked hard with me to get me to convey that “dreamy, hopeless look” as he called it. To me, the expression just looked like I was very confused and did not have a brain.

  “Well, I do not know how romantic or crazy this person is, and I think it is time I find out who has been sending me these gifts. Maybe you would recognize the jewelry box if it is from one of the stores you regularly shop at?”

  “I can take a look.” Angelica is staring at the box I received this morning, which I have not opened yet. I can see she is waiting with bated breath to see the dazzling contents.

  I pick up the box and untie the bow. This box is the largest one I have received. My guess is that it is a choker or a long strand of pearls. I cannot help but glance at Angelica out of my peripheral vision. She has her left arm wrapped around her waist, and her right hand, which is curled into a fist, is resting against her chin. She keeps tapping the fist to her chin. I thought I was in love with jewelry! This girl reminds me of a drug addict who cannot wait to get her next . . . how do the Americans call it? Stash? I stroke the top of the velvet box, taking my time opening it. This is sadistic of me, I know, but I relish every moment of anxiety I am giving Angelica.

  “Such a lush, soft box! I just love the way velvet feels. Vero?”

  Angelica merely nods her head. She refuses to take her eyes away from the box even for a moment. I slowly, very slowly, begin to lift the lid. Angelica lowers her head, straining to see the jewels resting inside their velvet case.

  “Oh!!!” Angelica and I both gasp simultaneously. Once again, I am stunned at the brilliant gems shimmering before me. It is a diamond choker in the shape of a vine. Two tiers of diamonds encircle the choker, and then two of the vines branch down.

  “It is the most beautiful piece of jewelry I have ever seen, Signora Donata!”

  I am so enthralled with the choker that I let slide Angelica’s calling me “signora” instead of “signorina.”

  “Can you please help me put it on?”

  “Of course!” Angelica’s hands shake as I hand her the choker.

  “Please, be careful.” I cannot believe I’m letting her hold my precious jewels, especially since she is quivering like a leaf. But I must see the choker on me immediately.

  “It is gorgeous on you! Come look in the mirror.”

  I walk over to the small coffee table in front of the settee that Giuliana was seated on earlier. The coffee table has a mirrored surface. I bend over and am amazed at how the jewels have transformed me. I swear they have taken a good five to ten years off my appearance.

  “This is just too much. Who is giving me these extravagant gifts? I must find out. The box.” I remember Angelica was going to look at the box to see if she could determine which jeweler it came from. Angelica hurries over to the dining table and picks up the box. As I had with the first gift, she inspects all angles of it.

  “Do you have any idea which jeweler uses this style box?” My voice sounds desperate.

  “I’m afraid it’s not a unique box. The two jewelers I go to on Ditmars do not use these bl
ue velvet boxes. They use black. For Christmas and Valentine’s Day, they use red. This is Astoria, not Tiffany’s, where you can always count on the same blue box.” Angelica shrugs her shoulders.

  “What about the ribbon? Every time I have received a gift, the box has been tied with this pale pink ribbon.”

  “I have always bought my jewelry from the two shops on Ditmars. I’ve never received the jewelry as a gift, so I would not know how they wrap it. I’m sorry.” Angelica looks embarrassed that no one has ever given her a gift of jewelry. How sad, I cannot help thinking. She has lovely features. How is it that no one has noticed?

  “That is fine. Do not worry about it. Can you leave me alone now? I would like to finish my espresso before I run a few errands.”

  “Errands? You are going out?” Angelica sounds dismayed.

  “Yes. I do go out, you know. I am not the hermit you have read about in the tabloids.”

  “I’m sorry, Signora—”

  “Signorina! How many times do I need to remind you and the rest of the staff here?”

  Angelica glances down at the floor. The nervous mouse from earlier is back. For a few moments, her personality had come through when she had told me about her love of jewelry. I instantly regret my irate tone with her, but I do not apologize.

  “I am sorry, Signorina Donata. I didn’t mean to offend you by acting surprised that you are going out. It’s just I was worried with all the people outside and the paparazzi.” Angelica picks up the tray she was placing the breakfast dishes onto earlier and quickly exits the morning room.

  I remove the choker and place it carefully back into its case. Though I would love to wear the piece all day, it is much too elaborate to wear on the streets of Astoria. My search for my secret admirer must start somewhere, so I will head over to the jewelers Angelica mentioned. I walk into my bedroom and open up my armoire’s doors. I take off the hat hook a long, auburn-haired wig that I wear when I want to fully disguise myself. Then, I pull out a pair of gabardine trousers, followed by a gray spring coat. It is too warm to wear the coat, but I have to hide this cursed derrière I have or else people will recognize me as they did the other day when my bodyguards did such a poor job of covering me with that stupid drape.