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I brought out an arancina I’d prepared for Gio and began to heat sauce on the stove. “You can explain it to me now,” I said to Francesco with more authority than I’d expected. My tone made him straighten in his chair even as I bustled around the kitchen preparing to feed him.
“Gio will be going to la Mérica to find work.”
The words were not a shock. This had always been a possibility. So many of the men had already left. It was almost like a war had conscripted them to another life. Gio’s brother had already gone to la Mérica. He worked in a factory in a big city there. I couldn’t remember the name of the city or what they made.
The United States would be different from the Italian mainland. Instead of months going by without seeing my husband it would be years. Other men had left the village for the new country, too many of them to count, and some had never returned. Some sent checks dutifully home to their wives, and others completely disappeared. But did it even matter? My husband had always been a stranger to me. Since that one night years earlier when he’d cried in my arms, I had never had a single glimpse of his soul. We never had the time to develop grievances with one another or even opinions of one another. He had become less familiar to me than any of the other men in the village and frankly our little family had done fine in his absence as long as he continued to send the money to keep us clothed and fed.
But there was one thing I knew for sure: Life was many times more dangerous for a woman whose husband had left for la Mérica, and I would be no exception.
SEVEN
SARA
When I woke up the next morning my mouth felt like the inside of a toilet. I barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up deep violet chunks and melting onto the floor. All of my previous night’s admiration for the house red wine disappeared. I needed to get something into my stomach but the idea of food made me lean over the bowl again even though there was nothing left. I lay down on the bathroom floor, letting the cold from the tile seep through the T-shirt I’d managed to put on before I went to bed.
I needed to piece together what happened last night.
I’d laughed when Giusy first mentioned the word murder. It was a completely inappropriate response, but I’d actually snorted so loud the waiter nearly dropped his platter of shellfish. Giusy remained deadly serious as she poured me a glass of wine so full it seeped over the rim and stained the white tablecloth, the liquid spreading like blood.
“How do you know my great-grandmother’s name?” I’d asked, tracing the red stain with my fingertip. “I didn’t tell you.”
“Rosie told me,” Giusy had said. I shouldn’t have been too surprised. Rosie had told me in her letter she’d done her own research. But I also knew Giusy should have mentioned their familiarity to me earlier.
“Huh. Why didn’t you tell me you’d talked to Rose?”
“I wanted to see if I liked you before I told you things.”
“You told me that your husband once slept with your cousin.”
“That’s just gossip.” She toyed with a bejeweled vape pen hanging from her neck.
“So I passed your test?”
“You did. You’re fun.” Her gaze held a modicum of respect.
“Thanks a bunch. Look. I don’t know what the hell is going on but it’s not funny. I just lost one of my favorite people in the world. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is what I came here to do and get back home to pick up the pieces of my shitty life, which will still be falling apart when I return.” I threw back a gulp of the wine, knowing I shouldn’t, knowing that once I passed a certain threshold the lights would go off in my brain.
“But didn’t you come here to find out what happened to Serafina?” Giusy asked me. “That is what your aunt wanted to know. That is what she kept asking me about.”
“Why did Rose reach out to you about her mother?” I tried to listen, tried to keep it all straight in my head.
“I’ve worked with other tourists to find their relatives. I know everything about this town. I have also done work in the local archives and in the library. She found me on the town website and asked me to help her research her mother. It was also helpful that I had the hotel where you could stay.”
“How often did you talk?”
“At first we emailed and then we talked on the phone. Sometimes text. She was so interested in this town and she wanted to visit. She was planning the trip for the two of you. I told her all about the hotel. That’s why you are staying with me.”
“You really should have told me all this when I first met you.”
Giusy shrugged.
“Did my aunt know that her mother was murdered? If that’s even true? Did you tell her?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
She sighed. “Let’s get more dessert.”
