On Thursday, Our Lady of Grace called Agnes at work to say that Leo was in an unusual state and could they please pick him up at once. “Call him a cab,” Agnes told Sister Kathleen. “I’ll mail them a check.” Sister Kathleen walked Leo out to the car and closed the door behind him, hoped he’d feel better soon, and Leo had the driver make the first correct turn toward their house before taking him the rest of the way to Coney Island, where he ordered hamburgers and french fries on the boardwalk, skipped out on the bill, jumped a fence into a vacant lot, and cut his arm on a piece of rebar before the cops cuffed him.
“It’s bad enough your father has to pick him up after his tour and take Leo for a tetanus shot on the way home. Make dinner, would you? I don’t want them waiting around to eat. I’ll be home in an hour.”
Gia dumped a packet of hot dogs into a saucepan, cranked the can opener on a sauerkraut lid, boiled water for frozen pierogi, and set the table, all before her father walked in with Leo and the phone started ringing.
“Get that, would you?” he called from the hallway. His voice was hoarse. Either he was sick or he’d been yelling all the way home. “And go to your room.”
Gia snapped the phone up as her father’s shoe hit the floor in the hallway and he hung his empty holster in the closet.
“Hello?”
“Sergeant Martino, please.”
“Dad?” The station. Gia pressed the receiver into her shoulder. He’d just gotten home and had to go back again? Agnes would flip. Plus they’d have to deal with Leo alone then. And maybe it was selfish, but dealing with Leo felt like a job for her father, same as mowing the lawn, cleaning gutters, or working under a car hood.
Her father took the phone and stretched the cord to the hallway. He was closer to the door and the front porch, farther from her, farther from Leo, like all he needed was the word to clear out of here in a second. “Yes, everything’s all right. No, it won’t happen again.” Gia caught bits and pieces as she pulled the hot dog buns apart and put them on a plate, set the table with ketchup and mustard, folded paper napkins into triangles. Something was wrong. She kept her head down when her father put the phone back in the cradle, poured a glass of water, and washed his hands in the kitchen sink, just before Agnes walked in.
“Dinner’s ready,” Gia said, putting a hot dog in a bun for her father, which he ate without a plate, in several small, deliberate bites that gave away the fact that he was not happy with whatever that phone call had been.
“Get your brother,” he said. “Then everyone can sit down.”
Gia walked all the way upstairs to get him. Leo was on the foot of his bed, rocking quietly back and forth, his hands pressed to either side of his head, his foot beating against the floor. The moon was low outside the window. Was he crying?
“Leo?” Gia said softly, afraid to cross the line into his room for reasons she didn’t understand. His room was as messy as always, clothes and shoes kicked around, unfinished things scattered. He didn’t hear her the first time. She tried again, but not before realizing that he was really alone now. No Ray or Tommy. No school or other friends, really. Even her parents were angry with him. Maybe she should try a little harder.
She sat beside him on the bed, careful not to startle him. When he still didn’t look up, she put one hand on his knee, softly, like he was one of her rabbits.
But it spooked him. He jumped up, squared off.
“Get out,” he screamed. Gia opened her mouth, but there were no words, just hurt, bruising the good in her. She was off the bed in a second, by the door in another.
“Dinner’s ready,” was all she’d had to say, so she dropped those two words and took off. The door slammed. Drawers opened and closed. She had a pretty good idea of what he was rummaging for. She slid into her seat at the table still shaking, avoided his eye when he slid into his usual spot a few minutes later, noticeably calmer.
“The captain called tonight,” Eddie said. “To strongly encourage me to get my son under control. Because in case you’re not aware, it’s an election year, and Wagner’s on his way out. You know what the new guy’s slogan is, Leo? ‘He’s fresh, and everyone else is tired.’ Any idea what that means?”
Leo shrugged and stuffed a hot dog into his mouth, ketchup dripping down his chin. I made that stupid hot dog, Gia thought, bitter that all he had to do was open his mouth and chew when it was time to eat, but she’d made the whole meal. After school. After she hadn’t skipped out on classes and spent the whole dumb day at Coney Island like he had.
Eddie slapped the fork out of Leo’s hand. It clattered to the floor. Leo stared with his mouth open, hot dog and all, bouncing his knee under the table.
“It means the new guy won’t turn a blind eye, Leo. So when I’m leaving tours to pick you up in whatever state you’re in, it won’t go unnoticed. And if you think I worked my whole life to have you ruin my reputation—”
“What are you talking about?” Agnes cut in. “What happened?”
“I’m on desk, Agnes, all because—”
Gia quietly pushed back her chair, because Leo was standing at one end of the table shouting now, and her father was at the other. She wasn’t hungry anymore. And all her effort felt poured down the drain, so she picked up her backpack and a blanket from the living room and closed the front door quietly behind her, aware as she passed this house and that one that her neighbors were sitting down to dinner about now, passing the salt, passing the pepper, talking about what TV program to watch that evening after homework was finished and the dishes were put away. Was there room for one more? If she slipped into one of those houses and poured herself a glass of milk, pulled out a seat at the table, passed biscuits, and smiled at stories about people’s days, would anyone mind that she didn’t belong? Probably.
It was the first time she missed Aunt Ida and Uncle Frank in all of this. They wouldn’t have blinked if she’d stayed for dinner. Not that they’d ever really asked her to. Not that Tommy or Ray sought her out enough for that to happen. But it was her best shot, and now it was gone, so she walked to the dock and slipped into the boat, made a pillow of her backpack, and spread the blanket over her so she could look at the first few stars, bright enough to shine through city haze, wishing she were one of them, because stars couldn’t hear the yelling that happened on Earth. They just kept shining.
The canal smelled of motor oil, and Gia imagined rainbow sheens gliding quietly past. Chemicals. She laughed at the irony of it, how much she’d wanted to keep them out of her body while Leo welcomed them in, how she’d been afraid of powders and invisible vapors, and yet they’d been here all along, unavoidable. Again, she envied the stars, too far away for people to poison.
When enough time had passed and it was too cold, Gia made for home just in time to see her father round the corner toward the swimming canal in his jogging suit, only he wasn’t running, just walking fast with his head down, darting toward Charles Park, which was odd. But Gia didn’t have the energy to follow him, not when all she wanted was quiet and maybe a hot dog if there were any left, because she was cold and hungry and she couldn’t be a star in the sky, not tonight, and not ever.
On Sunday, the tables and chairs weren’t put out. It was too chilly to leave the front door open, so they turned the porch light on. It was barely visible in the early-afternoon sun, confused whether anyone was really welcome. Agnes pushed the couches back and vacuumed underneath. The kitchen table had been polished with lemon chemicals, stray shoes tucked behind the door, junk mail into a basket. Agnes wrapped prosciutto around sesame breadsticks and put them on a plate with melon slices and provolone cubes because no one knew what else to do on Sunday.
Gia swept the front porch and changed the straw in the rabbit hutch. Buster had already doubled in size, his real fur growing in over the fuzz, hopping around on his sturdier legs with the others. The cold tasted like fall, and it lit her up inside, a fresh start. She picked around the yard for leaves to press between book pages, but she couldn’t thi
nk right on the ground. From the garage roof, she could climb the oak tree, see above the whole neighborhood. Maybe that would help her understand how to talk to Lorraine, who was still hiding, or what to do if she saw Tommy or Ray around or where Leo was all the time. Her foot was on the window ledge when the front door opened. Her mother had taken off her apron and checked the street, her watch. It was late. The melon had probably sweat all over the salty prosciutto.
The chipped paint was rough under Gia’s fingertips, probably full of lead. No one’s coming, Mom, she wanted to say. You know this.
But what were they doing? They had come here after church for as long as Gia remembered. She wondered if they were sorry now, licking their wounds and lumping around without her father’s barbecues, if Aunt Ida was sorry she’d missed a week with her sister.
Grass crunched under her feet, dry from the sudden chill. The block smelled like meatballs and gravy. Yeast. It carried on the cold. Aunt Ida’s walkway was newly lined with flaming mums, a cornucopia of dried flowers on the door. The windows were closed, but the house had a warmth to it, a full feeling. The radio was on. Shadows moved across the streakless, perfect windows.
She crept closer. Two tall candles burned on the dining room table, which was piled with linguini and clam sauce, sliced semolina bread, lemon wedges so vivid they made Gia’s mouth pucker. A bakery cake was on the sideboard, a sparkly cake knife at the ready. Gia wondered if she’d had the nerve to buy that from her bakery, from Lorraine’s. Aunt Ida shuffled about the kitchen, a flash of apron, an open oven. Gia felt slapped. The house hummed with music; Uncle Frank laughed as Aunt Ida called everyone to the table. Why had they never been invited to something so nice?
The back door opened, and Tommy dumped bottles into the trash. She stood in full view, a cat cornering a mouse.
He smiled sadly, shrugged, embarrassed. It was so honest it made her feel like the mouse instead of the cat. He put the lid on the can and went back inside. Behind her, the canal rolled quietly past, carrying debris in clumps. Ray’s new car was parked in the driveway, the scratches buffed but still visible. They were sitting down now as if everything were fine.
She stormed off toward the street, weighing options: ring and run, tell her parents, scratch Ray’s car again, something to prove they hadn’t gotten away with it. The whole stupid family. That was it, she realized, the reason she couldn’t bring herself to see Lorraine yet—because she hadn’t done anything to make it right.
At the edge of the lawn was a baseball. It was perfect, just right for her palm, even though the chemicals Aunt Ida sprayed made Gia’s skin tingle. She lined up with the dining room window, released. Glass shattered, but Gia was already running, fighting the urge to look as voices spilled and chairs pushed back, springing up from their charter plates and napkin rings, like on New Year’s. Ringing in Sundays alone. Sweep glass, she thought. Scrape linguini into the trash and order Chinese food, morons; see what it’s like to have something taken from you.
Mr. Angliotti dumped a pot of pasta water near the rosebush, steam rising from the ground. He waved. To him, she was Gia playing in the street, same as always, not Gia who’d just broken a window on purpose, who’d scratched a car, who had a brother who dangled in half. She waved back, playing the everything-is-normal game they played now.
“The Ed Sullivan Show is on,” her father said. “Bring the prosciutto in here.”
Her mother tucked her feet beneath her. Her father settled onto the couch, handing Agnes one of Nonna’s crocheted blankets as Gia carried the tray over with a breadstick in her mouth. No one corrected her as she slid in beside her parents, as crumbs sprinkled Nonna’s blankets, or asked where Leo was. This was nice, Gia thought, better than napkin rings and linguini. Her father popped open a beer, passed it to Agnes over Gia’s lap, the air sweet with cold yeast. Gia smirked, hoping Aunt Ida was still crawling around on the ground for glass slivers while Uncle Frank duct-taped a garbage bag to the window, worrying over how much it would cost to repair, and Gia promised herself it wouldn’t be the last thing she did to hurt them.
Her father was watching her instead of the screen. Gia smiled at him. He raised one eyebrow, but she couldn’t tell him. She only knew that he’d approve. As he spread the blanket over her folded knees, she took that as a sign that he wouldn’t have done anything differently.
On Monday, Lorraine left for school, the bruises yellowed. She’d twisted her hair into a knot as compact as a fist at the base of her neck instead of the soft tangle it usually was. For all the creams that could cover dark circles or imperfect skin, there must be something to cover the bruises, only Lorraine didn’t bother.
“Walk with her,” Agnes whispered above her coffee cup. Gia hesitated by the rabbit hutch, holding lettuce leaves, pretending they needed her to feed them the rest of the strawberries and apple peels, knowing she was being a coward.
“Go.” Agnes looked at Gia directly this time. Be my girl, the look said. My brave girl.
“Lorraine!” Aunt Diane followed her to the porch, leaned over the railing, and whispered something, pointing her finger at Lorraine and then down the block, looking up long enough to lock eyes with Gia, nod an approval, a hello. It could’ve meant anything. Gia swallowed back a lump. Would it have been different if it were Gia? Would she have fought him off, gone for his nose with the heel of her hand, used her fishing knife? All those years of fighting with Leo, wiggling out of headlocks and buckling the backs of his knees, suddenly useful.
She fell into step beside Lorraine, who smelled like soap but not perfume, no makeup. It made her look older, and maybe she was now. Gia felt older too. Up ahead, Ray’s new car backed out of the driveway, the engine cutting through her nerves.
“I keyed it.” Gia worked up her voice. “Real good. They buffed it, but it was too deep.”
Lorraine stared straight ahead.
“And I threw a rock through the window on Sunday, but no one knows it was me.” She cleared her throat. These offerings weren’t enough, dropped at Lorraine’s feet. “I’ll hurt him more,” Gia promised. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll figure it out. And . . .” They passed the stump on Mr. Angliotti’s lawn. The rings were fresh circles. How old was that tree, and why did it have to come down? What had it done wrong? They punished all the wrong things.
When they were kids, Nonna used to rub honey on their scraped knees and elbows, singing to them in Italian the whole way through. “It fix you,” Nonna had said in English. Gia wished for that honey now, or anything really, that could fix the inside things and that lasted longer than honey.
“And I’m sorry,” Gia said, her voice breaking. “I really am.”
“I know.” Lorraine sighed, staring off at the parakeets.
“We’ll get him for this,” Gia said as the car turned the corner. He didn’t even stop, adding to Gia’s urge to crush him. “I don’t know how, but . . .”
“Why?” Lorraine said, her eyes vacant. “There’s too many people to blame here, Gia. What’s the point?”
The rest of the walk was silent until their schools loomed before them, dividing them in the only way they ever were.
“Gia.” Lorraine stopped before they split off. “It’s not your fault.”
Lorraine’s voice broke and her face crumpled, but when Gia stepped forward, Lorraine waved her away, rearranging her face, forcing a smile.
“It’s not yours either,” Gia said. Lorraine nodded but didn’t believe it. Not yet. The sun shifted behind a cloud, leaving the world gray. Maybe she never would.
Lorraine closed her hand into a fist, turned for school, nodded at one of the nuns on the top step, and then she was gone.
But up ahead, Leo rounded the corner, heading for the lot behind the rectory in regular clothes. No, Gia thought. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t keep missing school. Couldn’t keep doing whatever he wanted, filling his body up with poison. Ray had ruined enough for them. He couldn’t win with Leo either.
“Leo!” Gia cal
led out. “This isn’t right. You can’t . . .”
He turned to face her, and her voice trailed off. He was already wild eyed.
“This isn’t real.” He pointed at the school behind them. “None of this. None of what we were taught. It doesn’t matter, Gia. It doesn’t matter.”
He kicked at the dirt with his toe, working it into a dust cloud that blurred his face. Gia swallowed. What did she even know about anything anymore? Why was she more right than him? He walked away, kicking up more dust in his wake, and Gia let him go, stood in the middle of that empty lot and watched him because she didn’t know what else to do.
He turned back and smiled at her. Or maybe he was only squinting at the sun. But it reminded her of following him into the grocery store and down the aisle with the candy bins, him climbing shelves, grabbing handfuls of gummy sharks and Chuckles and Baby Ruths, and shoving them into her backpack while she pretended to look at the shelves. Who would ever doubt a little kid? And they hadn’t. Gia and Leo walked out every time and split handfuls in the parking lot, gummy sharks turning her mouth blue on the walk home.
And he was right. School couldn’t teach her anything, nothing that applied to what had happened to Lorraine or even Leo, but she didn’t know what to do instead, so she followed the ringing bells and smiled apologetically as the nuns reminded her not to be late while her brother disappeared into a cloud of dust.
Chapter Eleven
On a Tuesday night, Agnes found a needle in Leo’s desk next to a brand-new notebook with only his name written in shaky pencil on the front. He said it was Lorraine’s from nursing school, which was a lie, and then didn’t come home for three days. Gia wondered if it would be better to let him see Ray and Tommy again—if, bad as he was, they’d been keeping him from getting worse. But Ray drove around in his new car with Tommy in the passenger seat. They’d moved away from the docks and had new spots now, which must be going well, because Aunt Ida’s house had gotten repainted and a new set of air conditioners installed, so they couldn’t be missing Leo much, which only made Gia more annoyed.
A Frenzy of Sparks: A Novel Page 13
