Finally, we arrive at the Mussolini Mansion, and Gregory rings the bell. Carlo lets us in and shows us to the library, where the rest of the neighbors are milling about. They’re whispering as they sip espressos. I also spot Rocco in the corner.
“I can’t believe I’ve never seen the inside of these digs before!” Paulie Parlatone’s voice booms over the din of the crowd.
“Clah-see! Clah-SEE all the WAY!” Ciggy drawls. I’m relieved to see he isn’t smoking his cigar, but I’m annoyed that both he and Paulie are being obnoxious. Where’s their respect for the dead?
Suddenly, I feel Zia squeeze my arm so tightly I almost shriek in pain.
“Oh, Pia! I cannot believe I didn’t make any time to see Giuliana before she died!”
I pat Zia on the shoulder. “You didn’t know she was sick. It’s okay.”
“Still. I should have come, but I felt weird with her sister being here.”
Now, I feel guilty that I didn’t confide in Zia just how sick Signora Tesca was. If I had, maybe she would have had the chance to see her one last time before she passed away.
“It’s normal to feel guilty after someone dies, Antoniella. We all find something to feel guilty about when we’ve lost someone close to us.” Gregory puts his arm around Zia and gives her a slight hug. To my surprise, Zia leans into him as she pulls her handkerchief out of her pocketbook, another Gucci vintage purse from the sixties, and blows her nose. Gregory continues to hold on to Zia.
“Antoniella, Pia,” Olivia DeLuca calls out softly and motions for us to join her. Connie and Rita are with her. Connie is wiping tears with a tissue. Rita isn’t crying, but her lips are pursed tightly together as if she’s trying to fight back tears.
“If only she had told us she was ill. I heard she knew for a year,” Olivia says. Zia shakes her head and the two of them lower their voices as they continue talking. No doubt they’re exchanging the gossip they’ve heard regarding Signora Tesca’s illness and death.
“Were you guys close to her?” I ask Rita and Connie.
“We became closer to her after Valentina’s shower,” Rita says. Now she looks like she might start to cry any second.
“That’s right. Your mother told me Signora Tesca threw your sister’s bridal shower here. She also told me about the beautiful brooch she gave her as a wedding gift.”
Connie nods her head. “I feel horrible. We used to be scared of her when we were kids. We even joked that she was the witch on the street because of the scary statues in her yard. But she was the furthest thing from a witch. She was so kind and generous. You’d never know she was related to Francesca. She was very quiet and unassuming.”
“What’s important is that you did get to know the real her, Connie,” Gregory says. “Don’t dwell on stuff you can’t control, especially from when you were kids.”
Boy, Gregory is a wealth of wisdom tonight. I can’t help mentally rolling my eyes. I’m still seething mad about our argument. As if reading my mind, Gregory leans over and whispers in my ear, “Follow me. I want to talk to you.”
“Again?” I whisper back, not attempting to hide the anger in my tone.
He takes my hand and is about to lead me away when Lorenzo suddenly is standing before us.
“Pia, Gregory. Thank you for coming.”
I let go of Gregory’s hand and hug Lorenzo as I give him my condolences. Gregory shakes his hand.
“I’m sorry for the delay. We’re just waiting for Francesca.”
Naturally, I can’t help thinking. She’s even late for her sister’s wake.
The neighbors’ whispers increase as Edgardo and another of Francesca’s bodyguards enter the room. A moment later, Francesca enters the library, and the neighbors go silent immediately. Everyone is staring at her with shock on their faces as if they can’t believe they’re really here in her presence.
Francesca is wearing a black pants suit. Even her blouse is black. Her hair is up in a simple chignon, and she wears no makeup or jewelry. Her eyes are bloodshot. Though she looks less glamorous without any makeup, her beauty is still evident.
“Hello, everyone. I wanted to thank you for coming. I know this means a lot to Giuliana, and she is looking down on us right now, smiling.” Francesca’s voice cracks a little. She pauses for a moment to regain her composure before continuing.
“I also wanted to thank you for being her friends all of these years. As I’m sure you know, my sister was shy and kept to herself a lot. But I know she loved Astoria very much. She spoke fondly of it. Though she had come to think of America and Astoria as her home, she did express a wish to be buried in her villa in Rome, next to her husband.”
A few whispers are heard among the neighbors.
“We will be leaving for the funeral home now. I wanted to thank you all again for being friends to my sister when she was alive and for coming tonight.”
Francesca turns around and leaves with Edgardo and another bodyguard flanking her sides. As soon as she exits the room, the neighbors talk excitedly among themselves, but at least they’re keeping their voices low out of respect.
“Pia, would you like to ride in the SUV that Francesca and I are taking?” Lorenzo asks me.
Gregory shoots a look between me and Lorenzo.
“Oh no, thank you, I couldn’t. That should be for family.”
“Of course, you may also come, Gregory.”
“We came with Pia’s aunt, and we’re also with our friends. But thank you for the offer.” Gregory puts his arm around my shoulders.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you both then at the funeral home.” Lorenzo nods his head and walks away.
We follow the crowd that’s started to file out the back door leading to the yard. The security guards are checking each of our funeral invitations before letting us step into the SUVs. Yes, we actually received invitations for the wake to ensure that only those invited would be in attendance. Olivia, Connie, and Rita are with us and are doing a good job of chattering away so that I’m not forced to get into another awkward conversation with Gregory. He still has his arm around me. I keep stealing glances his way, but his mind appears to be somewhere else.
After about half an hour, we arrive in Roslyn Heights, a suburb on Long Island. As we step out of the SUV, which has parked in the yard behind the funeral home, I see huge white tents set up, much like the ones Hollywood celebrities have when they’re getting married or having some other event they want to keep private. We walk under the tents and through a back door into the funeral home. I guess the tents are just to conceal Francesca.
We step into the viewing room where Signora Tesca’s body is lying in repose. Flowers in abundance line the sides of the room and surround Signora Tesca’s casket. As we get closer, I see all of the flowers are daisies. That does it. I start crying, remembering all of the daisies I’ve seen in the Mussolini Mansion. Obviously, they were Signora Tesca’s favorite flower. I don’t know why this moves me so much, but it does. Gregory grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly. Like Zia earlier, I collapse into him, not caring anymore about the stupid argument we had.
Instead of feeling comforted by Gregory, my anxiety grows, and suddenly, it’s not Signora Tesca’s wake I’m at but Erica’s. As we approach the casket, I see Erica, wearing her violet prom dress that she loved so much. Her long brown hair, which hung all the way down to her waist, is wrapped over her shoulders and down her arms like bolts of ribbon. Her first communion rosary was interlaced around her clasped hands. I wish I could say she looked every bit as beautiful in death as she did in life, but except for her lustrous hair and her princess-like prom dress, her beauty had faded with her life. Her face was puffy and her lips, which had always been naturally pink, were now a dull beige hue. The sheer lip gloss the mortician had applied hardly added any color. At least the mortician hadn’t gone overboard with applying her makeup.
There were many flowers at Erica’s wake, too, but they were all different varieties. I look at the front row of seats and see my
mother’s haunted stare, my brother being so brave for all of us, and my father crying inconsolably. And then I see myself, dressed all in black with a skirt and top that Erica had given me for my birthday the previous year. Like Francesca, I also chose not to wear any makeup or jewelry.
“I can’t breathe. I need to go out,” I say to Gregory.
“Come on.” Gregory quickly ushers me away.
“Pia, are you okay?” Zia asks.
“She’ll be fine. She just needs some fresh air.” Gregory waves his hand. “All the flowers in here.”
Zia nods her head and seems to believe him. I thank God for Gregory in that moment. We approach the back entrance, which is where we came in. One of Francesca’s bodyguards is blocking the door.
“We need to step out for a few minutes. She’s not feeling well.”
“We’re not supposed to let anyone leave until the wake is over and Francesca has left first.”
I start gasping loudly and my chest is heaving as I go into full-blown panic-attack mode. The bodyguard’s eyes widen.
“Okay, but stand where I can see you.”
I hear Gregory curse at the bodyguard under his breath. “Asshole! What does he think we’re going to do? Sneak in a reporter?”
As soon as we’re outside, I grasp onto one of the poles of the tents that have been set up and bend my head close to my knees. Gregory rubs my back.
“Just give me a couple of minutes. It should stop soon.”
“Take your time, Pia. I’m in no rush to go back inside. All those daisies were starting to make me feel woozy.”
“Can you go to the restroom and wet a paper towel with cold water for me?”
“Sure. I’ll be back before you know it.” Gregory smiles, but I can tell he’s worried about me.
I focus on my breathing and try to keep my mind from wandering back to Erica’s wake.
“Breathe into this.”
I glance up and am startled to see Lorenzo looking at me with concern. He bends down so that his face is level with mine and hands me a paper bag.
“Thanks,” is all I can manage. I want to ask him how he knew I was out here and not feeling well since he magically has a paper bag, but it’ll have to wait until my attack subsides. Breathing into the paper bag is helping tremendously as my heart rate begins to slow down and my breaths come more naturally. I should carry a paper bag in my purse all the time. Then again, I keep hoping that I won’t get any more panic attacks. Am I doomed to get them forever?
“Francesca asked Antoniella where you were when Antoniella came over to pay her respects. Francesca was worried and asked me to check on you. I’m sorry about all of the flowers. I tried telling my aunt she was overdoing it, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“It wasn’t the flowers that made me feel sick.”
“Then what was it?”
“I couldn’t help flashing back to when my sister died a few years ago and I was at her wake.”
“So you understand.”
I nod my head as I begin to slowly stand up.
“Let me help you.” Lorenzo gives me his hand and helps lift me.
“I’ve got it from here.” Gregory’s stern voice rings through the air.
I didn’t even hear Gregory return. He’s giving Lorenzo a dirty look. I’m embarrassed. Can’t he see Lorenzo was just helping me stand? Where’s his compassion? Lorenzo just lost his mother.
“Are you sure you’re feeling better now, Pia?” Lorenzo seems hesitant to leave.
“Yes, thank you, Lorenzo. I’m fine. I’ll return in a moment.”
“If this is too much for you, my aunt and I would understand if you went home.”
“Maybe that would be for the best, Pia. You still look really pale,” Gregory says as he dabs at my forehead with the wet paper towel. I want to tell him to stop, but I don’t. Instead, I just take the towel from him and dab my own forehead.
“No, I really want to pay my respects to Signora Tesca. I’m much better now.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Lorenzo walks away. Even his gait is filled with sorrow.
“You gave me a scare, Pia. I didn’t know you suffer from panic attacks.”
“I’ve been getting them since Erica died. It didn’t even occur to me that Signora Tesca’s wake would trigger memories from Erica’s funeral.”
“It seems like you and Lorenzo are friendly.”
“Of course we are. I’ve seen him at the house when I’ve interviewed Francesca.”
“I think he likes you.”
“That’s crazy, Gregory. He could have his pick of women with his money and . . .” I let my voice trail off.
“And what?”
“Nothing.”
“And his good looks?”
“Let’s go back. I don’t want my aunt to worry.”
Without waiting for Gregory, I enter the funeral home. He catches up to me and grasps my hand. I can’t help feeling he’s doing it more to show Lorenzo his ownership of me. I’m turned off, but I don’t let go of his hand. I don’t have the energy after my anxiety attack to start what will surely be another ugly argument.
Taking a deep breath, I repeat in my head, “Signora Tesca, Signora Tesca” to keep my mind from straying back to Erica. As I kneel down on the pew in front of Signora Tesca’s casket, I can see from my peripheral vision that Lorenzo is watching me. I close my eyes to pray, but all I can think about is what Gregory said. “I think he likes you.”
Francesca called me the day after the wake. I was surprised given that she’s in mourning. Part of me was afraid that I’d never hear from her again. After all, she would be under no obligation to return to New York after delivering her sister’s body to Rome. She could finish our last interview over the phone, but I wouldn’t blame her if she were too consumed by her grief and forgot that we still needed to finish up our interviews.
Francesca wanted to see how I was feeling, but she also had a request. I’m still reeling from the shock. Not only did Francesca remember we have one interview left, but she wants me to write her autobiography! She asked me to fly to Rome this coming weekend and stay with her for a month at her apartment. She and Lorenzo need to settle Signora Tesca’s estate, which will take quite some time. Francesca even joked that she wouldn’t have any list of conditions or approved questions this time around.
This autobiography, along with the Profile interview, would seal my career as a journalist. I’m excited, but I’m also nervous. I’m on my way to tell Gregory the good news, and I’m planning on asking him to join me in Rome—if not now, then as soon as he’s done with his paintings. But what I’m really afraid of is his reaction when I tell him that I am seriously considering moving to New York permanently. I’m scared he’s going to tell me that while he cares about me, he doesn’t see us having a long-term relationship. But he did tell me he loves me. Ugghhh! I have to stop with this mental torture and just get this over with and deal with the consequences.
Again, I’ve decided to surprise Gregory rather than calling him before showing up. I was too excited to wait to see him. I already know the answer will be “yes.” As soon as I hung up the phone with Francesca, I called a gypsy cab and left.
It takes longer than the usual fifteen minutes to get to Gregory’s because it’s four p.m. and rush-hour traffic is already underway. Finally, I’m at his house. I run up the steps and trip midway. I ring the bell, but again, Gregory doesn’t answer. I’m about to call him on my cell when I notice the door is slightly ajar. Shutting my phone, I push open the door and let myself in. Radiohead is blasting from his computer as I make my way up the stairs.
Gregory’s studio is at the end of the hall on the right-hand side. It used to be a guest room when his parents lived here, but Gregory has long since converted it into his studio. As I walk down the hall, I hear voices. The music is so loud that I can’t hear what’s being said. I approach the studio and peer into the room. The door is only half open, but I can make out part of Gregory’s
bare back as he’s seated on a stool. As I stretch my neck all the way to the left, my blood turns cold. Madeline is standing next to Gregory with her arm around his shoulders. Her opposite hand holds a glass of wine. She’s wearing a super-tight, hot-pink ruched dress that shows every curve in her body. Leaning provocatively so that her hair brushes against Gregory’s bare back, Madeline whispers into Gregory’s ear. He laughs and says, “You’re so bad!” Then Madeline holds her wineglass to Gregory’s lips as he takes a sip.
I knew it! They’re sleeping together. How could he? How could he do this to me? Tears blind my eyes as I kick open the door, startling Madeline and Gregory so much that she spills wine all over his chest.
“Pia! What are you doing here? Did you ring the bell?”
“Apparently I needed to so you’d have enough warning just like the last time I showed up!”
“Pia, calm down.”
“I know what I saw! Don’t try to deny it! This is why you’ve been too busy for me to visit? But you let her hang out with you while you work?”
“There’s no changing her mind, Gregory. Let her believe what she wants. You don’t need this stress.” Madeline looks triumphant, as if she’s won the Oscar.
Gregory ignores her and walks over to me.
“Pia, I was just getting some feedback from Madeline on my latest painting. I was going to call you to come over tonight to give me your opinion.”
“Stop!” I hold up my hand. “Stop with the lies.” I turn around and run down the hall, but Gregory catches up to me before I can head down the stairs.
“Don’t do this, Pia. Please.” Gregory is whispering, but the urgency in his voice is still apparent. “Let’s talk, okay?”
Madeline appears in the hallway.
“Gregory, it’s best that I leave. I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have.” As she passes us, she flashes another malicious grin as her eyes lock onto mine. Gregory doesn’t notice.
Carissima Page 36
