Before she stepped out of the hallway that led up to the fortune-teller’s shop, she strained her neck to peer out the door in either direction, making sure no one she knew was walking by. Though many people in Astoria visited fortune-tellers, no one liked to admit they’d gone to one. And if Valentina, Rita, and Connie found out, they’d be furious with her. They gave her enough grief as it was about her superstitious beliefs. As soon as she was sure none of her nosy neighbors were strolling by, Olivia stepped out onto Ditmars Boulevard and hurriedly made her way back to Sposa Rosa.
11
Bridal Blues
Since I had grown up with a mother who was such a believer in superstition, it didn’t escape my notice that rain or snow had marked several milestones in my relationship with Michael. It was raining when Michael had finally asked me out on our first date. It was snowing the night he’d proposed to me. It was also snowing the day he told me what he thought of my wedding dress after having walked in on the fitting. And now today has been pouring with a vengeance since early in the morning. There’s a nor’easter making its way up the eastern seaboard. It’s a horrible day to be out, but Michael had insisted that he needed to see me. So I’m waiting for him to come pick me up at the shop. Of course, he’s late as usual.
I don’t bother waiting for Michael to get lunch. He won’t mind since he knows how early I wake up on the days I have to be at work, and if I wait for him, I’ll pass out from hunger. Sighing aloud, I wonder if he will ever get better with his tardiness—probably not.
Since the weather is so miserable, my sisters and I decide to order gyros from Pizza Palace. They make the best gyros on Ditmars, maybe even in all of Astoria. I am so spoiled by the authentic gyros and Greek food in Astoria, which is also known as Little Greece, that I can’t eat Greek food anywhere else in New York—not even in Manhattan!
Multitasker extraordinaire that I am, I’m finishing writing the last of my bridal shower thank-you cards while I eat. Thanks to my family and future in-laws, I’d received most of the gifts I wanted from my bridal shower. With a little less than one month to go until my fairy-tale wedding in the fairy-tale city of Venice, I should be happy that the day is almost here. But for the past two weeks, I just can’t shake my low spirits. Have I fallen victim to a case of the “Bridal Blues”?
“Bridal Blues” is what my family and I call it when brides suddenly get depressed before their weddings. We’ve seen it often when clients come in for their final fitting. Ma always attributes it to nerves and says grooms go through it, too, perhaps even more so than brides. But my sisters and I suspect something else is at play. Though engaged couples complain about the headaches involved in planning a wedding, the truth of the matter is that brides love it. They love every aspect of making the day they dreamed about since they were little girls perfect, no matter how stressful it can be.
“It’s kind of like postpartum depression. You’re sad because you’ve had the baby, and now all the attention is on the baby instead of on the pregnant mom-to-be.”
Rita’s explaining the concept of “Bridal Blues” to Aldo, who is also eating lunch with us. He and my sisters are glued to the TV watching repeats of Say Yes to the Dress. Monday mornings are our quietest time in the shop, and with the rain, it’s even deader than usual.
Aldo had been laid off last month from his job at Christie’s auction house. He’s devastated since, as he puts it, “Art is my life. And I’ll never, ever, ever find a job in a prestigious art gallery like Christie’s again. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Art is another passion we have in common. From Impressionism to abstract realism to Renaissance art, I can’t get enough. Aldo and I often visit the museums and art galleries around Manhattan. We make a whole day out of it, starting as soon as the museums open. Then we have afternoon tea and finger sandwiches. When the Waldorf Astoria was open, we loved having our tea there. We were so upset when they closed their doors. Now we just go to any café or coffeehouse. After tea or cappuccino, we take a stroll through Chelsea and go to whatever art galleries are open. Then we end the day with dinner.
Ever since I had gotten engaged, we hadn’t been having our “art days” anymore. I’m to blame with all the preparations for the wedding and making my dress. Aldo has been a good sport about it. I’ll have to make it up to him soon.
Art appreciation is the one area where Michael and I have nothing in common. Michael likes going to museums—as long as they’re science or history museums. He’s accompanied me a few times to the Met. I think the Met is a safe bet for introducing a newbie to art. There’s no way I’m taking him anywhere near the Guggenheim or even MOMA until he’s had more time to appreciate the classics. After all, how could he understand the paintings of Pollack or de Kooning or even Picasso before he’d understood the masters before them?
Well, it turned out I didn’t have to worry about slowly inducting Michael into the world of art. During our third outing to the Met, Michael blurted to me one day, “I’m so bored.”
He must’ve seen the hurt look in my eyes because he quickly came back with, “I’m sorry, Vee. I tried, but other than the Egyptian exhibit I just can’t get into this. I just don’t find it as fascinating as you do.”
“Don’t some of these paintings move you when you look at them?” I asked, incredulous that he wasn’t feeling anything. We were standing before Caravaggio’s Death of the Virgin.
Michael shrugged his shoulders and looked guiltily at me. I decided to drop the subject and the idea that he would become a lover of art.
“That girl is such a bee-otch!” Aldo cries out. “She’s knocked every dress her sister has tried on, and they all looked stunning on her. She’s just jealous that she doesn’t have her drop-dead gorgeous figure!”
Aldo’s protests shake me out of my daydreaming.
“No, Aldo. You’re not getting it. She’s jealous and mad that it’s not her trying on the dresses. Trust us, we know. We’ve seen it thousands of times.” Connie frowns. “She had her turn.”
Just like on Say Yes to the Dress, we’ve seen clients who had purchased their dresses at Sposa Rosa return with family members or friends whose turn it was to tie the knot, and the former brides would try to take over the session.
“She should just divorce her husband then and marry someone else so she can do it all over again!”
Aldo elbows Connie as the two of them laugh.
“It’s not always former brides who get jealous. Sometimes it’s a family member or friend who’s never been married before. They can get quite opinionated, too.”
I give my take on the subject.
“So, it sounds like it’s not really about the dress but about themselves? Their own hang-ups and insecurities?”
“Now you’ve got it!” Rita slaps Aldo on the back as she walks by him.
“See, Aldo, we’re not just dressmakers. We’re also psychologists.”
I place my last thank-you card in the envelope. I stare at the blank envelope. This would be the last time I wrote thank-you cards for a bridal shower. There it is again. The tidal wave of sadness quickly washes over me.
“What’s gotten into you? Why are you staring at that blank envelope? Did you forget whose card that is?”
Rita’s voice brings me out of my stupor.
“No, no. It’s Signora Tesca’s card.”
“Are you sure, Vee? We know how absentminded you can get. Why don’t you just place the steamer over the envelope’s seal so you can open it and be sure it’s Signora Tesca’s card?”
Connie doesn’t wait for my answer. She walks over with the steamer.
“I don’t need the steamer! I’m positive this is Signora Tesca’s card because I intentionally saved her card for last. I wanted to write her a longer note to express how grateful I was for her hosting the shower at her house.”
“And what a house it was! You guys pegged it right when you nicknamed it the Mussolini Mansion. Some of the stuff in that place could bring
in a fortune when she dies and it’s auctioned off. Maybe I’ll be able to get a job as an auctioneer again, and I could represent her estate. That would seal my career!”
Aldo’s eyes look dreamy as he imagines his possible future career path.
Rita’s trademark cynicism rears its head. “Are you kidding me? Most of what I saw looked so old and tacky! Who would want to pay a fortune for that?”
Aldo’s lips are pursed tightly together as he rolls his eyes and looks at Rita in the most exasperated fashion. “Tons of people! Have you ever heard of collectors, Rita? Tsskk! Trust me. I’m the expert on these things. We’re looking at a couple of million just based on the collectibles. Then there’s her furniture.”
“What? That crap that’s been covered in plastic for the past five decades?”
“Rita, I’m not going to debate this with you. It would be like you trying to explain to me why a Pnina Tornai dress is really worth twenty-five thousand as opposed to an inferior dress that’s only worth five grand.”
“He’s got you there, Rita!”
Connie and Aldo high-five each other and laugh.
I’m still staring at the blank envelope.
“Oh my God, Valentina! Snap out of it! Something is the matter. ’Fess up!”
Aldo comes to my side.
“It’s nothing. You guys know how quickly my thoughts wander. I was just thinking.”
“Nuh-duh! We can see that. What were you thinking about? You look like you’re going to cry.”
Rita’s now standing opposite me, staring right into my face.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, Michael should be getting here soon.”
“It’s about Michael, isn’t it? I knew it!” Connie all but shouts.
“Shhh! Like I said, he’ll probably be here any minute.”
“Okay, we’ll talk low. So what is it? He’s having a hard time in the bedroom, and now you’re worried you’ll have a dud for life after you get married?”
“Aldo! Of course that’s not it.”
I walk to the back of the shop, hoping to escape them as I begin to get ready to leave. But they trail after me.
“Vee, we’re not letting you leave until you tell us what’s the matter.” Rita stands right behind me with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Aldo and Connie flank her sides, looking just as determined.
I sigh. “Why can’t you guys ever respect my privacy?”
“We’re worried about you. And you know how it is in Italian families. When one family member has a problem, it becomes the rest of the family’s problem,” Connie says.
“That’s right!” Aldo knows he’s as much a part of my family as my sisters are. I’ve told him countless times how he is like a brother to me.
“Okay, okay. I give up. I didn’t want to admit this. I’m embarrassed, but it seems I’ve fallen victim to the ‘Bridal Blues.’ ”
“Not you, Vee!” Aldo shouts.
“You’re not leveling with us. In a million years, I would’ve never seen you getting the ‘Bridal Blues.’ ”
Rita’s eyebrows are knitted together, making the vein on her forehead thrust out. She scrutinizes me, doubting my claim.
“Well, it’s true. Like I said, I was embarrassed to admit it. I should know better from working at Sposa Rosa to let myself get down about something so silly. But I guess I’m not immune to it. Even though life has been more hectic since I got engaged and began planning the wedding, I can’t believe it’ll be over in a month.”
“Instead of feeling glum that you won’t have a wedding to plan anymore, you should be looking forward to the future with your hot new husband! Besides, soon you’ll have a baby on the way and then all the excitement will be on you again!”
Aldo is next to me now and has placed his arm around my shoulders.
“It’s silly. I know. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.” I can feel my cheeks growing warm. I feel stupid.
“No, it’s not silly. You’re a woman, and these things matter to us.” I’m surprised Rita is the one to say this. She’s always making fun of these brides who get so carried away by their weddings.
“And we know how much your wedding means to you. You’ve been waiting for the right man to come along for so long, or rather I should say you’ve been waiting for Michael to come around for so long! If anyone deserves to have a perfect wedding, it’s you, Valentina. Of course you’re going to feel a little down that this excitement will all be over soon. But you’ll be with Michael every day for the rest of your lives. Think of that!”
Sometimes Connie’s—and even Rita’s—wisdom amazes me. They are my little sisters. They aren’t supposed to have the answers. I’m supposed to be giving them advice. But they’re very smart and perceptive. All those years that I thought no one knew about my secret crush on Michael, I’d been wrong. Of course, my mother and my sisters knew how I’d felt about Michael. No one knows me better. Well, except for Aldo. Suddenly, another disturbing thought enters my mind. Michael hadn’t popped into my mind when I thought of the people who know me best. Shouldn’t the man I’m about to marry be one of the top three people who know me the best?
“Are you sure there isn’t anything else besides the ‘Bridal Blues’ that’s bothering you?”
Sometimes I swear Aldo has mind-reading abilities.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
I avert my eyes from Aldo’s penetrating gaze as I say this.
The door’s buzzer sounds.
“Hello! Hello!”
“It’s Michael! Don’t breathe a word about any of this to him.”
I make my way to the front of the store.
“We’re back here.”
“Hey, guys.”
Michael nods his head in greeting to everyone.
“Hey, Michael,” Rita, Connie, and Aldo call out in unison. Then they just stand there without saying another word, just staring at Michael and me. Michael looks a bit uneasy, which is unlike him. Though he isn’t a big talker like my family and Aldo are, he’s always managed to say more than just hello.
“So, you ready to go, Valentina?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll see you guys at home tonight. I won’t be back at the shop. I have a few wedding-related errands to run.”
Michael is looking more and more nervous. Maybe he isn’t feeling well.
“Don’t worry about it, Vee. Connie and I will hold down the fort. Besides, Ma should be here soon.”
“Have fun!” Aldo calls to us as we step out into the stormy weather.
“The car’s just across the street. Luckily, I found parking close so we won’t get completely drenched.”
I nod my head as I follow Michael and hold on to my umbrella with a vise-like grip, hoping the gusty winds won’t rip it out of my hands.
Inside the car, Michael hands me a few napkins from his glove compartment.
“Thanks.”
I dab at the raindrops on my face.
“So where are we going? I guess our options are limited since it’s so lousy outside. I doubt you want to drive far or anything.”
“Actually, I thought we’d head over to my house in Oyster Bay.”
I smile at him. Has he planned something romantic? Mr. and Mrs. Carello own a second home in Oyster Bay, which they use primarily during the summer months. Michael and I go there when we want to be alone, which is often since I’m still living with my family, and Michael has a roommate who rarely leaves their apartment.
Michael and I had found a house on Upper Ditmars Boulevard that we put a down payment on six months ago. We’re having a few renovations done, and it won’t be ready to move into for another two weeks. Of course with our traditional Italian upbringing, we won’t be living together in the house until on our wedding night.
One day, however, Michael surprised me and took me there. We had a picnic on the floor of the house. Since the electricity wasn’t turned on yet, Michael had brought lots of candles. He’d said he couldn’t wait for the house to be ready for
us to spend some time in it.
“Oyster Bay? I didn’t think you’d want to drive all the way out there in this weather, but sure. It’ll be nice.” I lean over and kiss Michael on the lips. But he just quickly kisses me back and starts the ignition.
“We’d better get going.”
Again, he seems anxious to be on our way. He’s probably just eager to have me to himself. It’s been several weeks since we’d made love. With the wedding fast approaching, my responsibilities at Sposa Rosa, and finishing up the last touches on my gown, it has been hard for me to get away even on a weekend night. Michael’s new promotion at Smith Barney has meant longer hours, and he’s even gone into the office on weekends. Connie’s right. It’ll be nice to have the wedding over so that I’ll see Michael every day. I’m foolish to be sad that all this craziness with the wedding planning will soon be over. It’s definitely putting a dent in my quality time with Michael. He assures me things will free up a bit with his job not long after we get married. And as he puts it, he’ll have me for the entire night every night even when he does have to work late. The thought of that makes me weak in my knees. I feel a warm glow thinking that soon we’ll be in his house, cuddling under the blankets together and making love on this stormy day.
I reach over and place my hand on Michael’s thigh, something I’ve always done when he’s driving. Michael looks down at my hand and frowns. He returns his attention to the road.
“Are you okay, Michael?”
“Yeah. Just tired from all the long hours I’ve been putting in at work.”
“Are you sure? You just don’t seem yourself today.”
“Let’s just talk when I’m done driving. I need to keep my attention fully on the road. If you haven’t noticed, it’s treacherous out there.”
His words sting me.
“There’s no need for the sarcasm. I was just worried about you.”
Michael glances at me. His lips are pursed tightly together, and his eyes look pained.
“I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind. You didn’t deserve that.”
I remain quiet. Even though he’d apologized, he hadn’t touched me. In the past whenever he’d spoken out of line, he’d always made sure to touch my hand or stroke my hair or even kiss me. Well, I can play that game, too. I take my hand off his thigh. From my peripheral vision, I can see he’s looking at me from time to time while keeping his eyes on the road.
Bella Fortuna Page 18
