“Not feeling well? Stella, are you all right?” Her mother was shaking her shoulder.
“I’ll be fine, Ma.” Stella fought back waves of mortification and anger. Was that all he was going to say? Was this over? “It’s just an upset stomach. I’m going to bed.”
Carmelo tipped his fedora as he bowed to Assunta, then to Stella. “Thank you for a lovely evening.” His voice was flat, affectless. “I hope you feel better soon.” He pushed his hat down over his ears and walked back to his car.
Assunta was wild eyed. She was probably trying to imagine what terrible thing had happened on the date. “What’s the matter, Stella?”
Stella didn’t answer. She pushed past her mother and went to the bathroom, where she vomited her hamburger into the toilet.
AFTER HER RUINED DATE WITHCARMELOMAGLIERI,Stella lived through the nightmare four more times in as many days. She’d become so afraid of having it that she couldn’t fall asleep, despite her exhaustion. Then, for some reason, it stopped.
CARMELO NO LONGER STAYED FOR DINNER.When he dropped Tony off after work, he rarely even came into the house to say hello. She had successfully ended the courtship.
Tina and Assunta both harassed her and Tony gave her a black eye she wore proudly for a week. But the damage was done, and Carmelo didn’t want her anymore. She was safe, until her father latched onto another suitor. What with the stiff competition among the East Side Italian girls for the returning soldiers, Stella wasn’t worried. Carmelo had been her most dangerous brush with marriage, she was sure; it would be much easier from here.
***
NOW THAT THEY WERE CITIZENS,Stella and Tina went to work at the Silex factory, on a coffeepot assembly line. The day they went in for their interview, Assunta came along with them. She brought a tray of ravioli to bribe the foreman. Whether or not the ravioli were a factor, the Fortuna girls got the job.
CARMELOMAGLIERI BROKE HIS MORATORIUMto visit Bedford Street one night in August. He sat at the kitchen table to chat with Assunta as she cooked, acting as if weeks hadn’t passed since he’d last sat there. Stella had been keeping her mother company, sorting and tailing long beans, and when Carmelo sat down across from her he nodded polite greeting. His expression was serious today, none of his cherub smiles. The top buttons of his tan shirt were open, a gold cross on a chain hanging in an array of chest hair at which Stella had trouble not staring.
Carmelo accepted a glass of wine from Assunta, who was so overjoyed to see him she stumbled over things to say. Stella loved her mother for her affectionate heart, even if she was a traitor.
“I have some news, Za ’Ssunta,” Carmelo said, but he was looking at Stella. “Zi Tony and I already spoke about it, but I wanted to tell you in person.”
Carmelo’s older brother, Gio, had bought a grocery store in Chicago from apaesan. Apparently Carmelo had been sending home so much money that Gio had been able to take care of their parents throughout the war with enough left over to buy a grocery store.
“He says since it’s my money, he bought the store in my name,” Carmelo explained. How did he manage to look humble?
Gio was in Chicago already. He’d run the store until Carmelo got there. Then they would run it together. Carmelo had brought his brother’s letter, and Assunta was turning it over, studying the writing as if she could read it. “How nice, a store. But you’re going away, Carmelo?”
He shrugged. “A store is a great thing. Hard work, but if you’re a smart businessman you can make good money. The factory work here is good, but all the men are going to come home from the war and want their jobs back.”
Tina, who’d been working in the garden, came into the kitchen, her hair sweat-frizzed around her pink face. She gave Carmelo an excited wet kiss on the cheek and he had to tell the whole thing all over again. Stella listened to her mother and sister’s alternating sorrowful and ecstatic disruptions.
“But I came to talk to you, Stella,” Carmelo said, taking the letter back and pointing it at her like a threat. Assunta and Tina immediately fell silent.
He was staring at her. Stella stared back.
“Listen, Stella.” When he said her name a second time, her heart shuddered. “All you have to do right now is say the word ‘maybe.’ Maybe someday you will marry me. Just say maybe and I’ll tear the letter up right here in front of you and I’ll stay on Front Street. Maybe, just say maybe, Carmelo. Maybe someday.”
She met his gaze steadily. “Never.” She was intensely grateful that her father had not joined them in the kitchen for this conversation.
“Stella!” Tina squeaked.
“Never?” Carmelo asked her.
“Never.”
She was startled by a fast, hard blow to the back of her head. She reached through the ringing to touch the source of the pain and her fingers came back wet—slicked in olive oil. It took her a moment to realize her mother had hit her with the thick wooden spoon she’d been using to sauté the garlic.
“Stupida brutta,”Assunta said. “What is wrong with you? What kind of game are you playing?” She looked both angry and hurt. It wasas though Stella had rejected Assunta’s own son. “How many more times do you think he’s going to ask you before he gets tired and finds someone else?”
Stella rubbed her scalp. “Mamma, how can you take his side over mine?” Seeing the way Assunta was gripping the spoon, she braced herself for another blow.
“I would have given you anything you wanted, Stella,” Carmelo interrupted. “I would have given you the world. All I wanted was to make you happy.”
The ripple of thought-pictures—his hands on her flesh, swelling pregnant belly. “You could never make me happy,” she said, her mouth dry.
