From the hallway came the sounds of a second knock, of the locks tumbling.“Who is it?”Stella mouthed. Her mother spilled coffee on the counter and hurried to wipe it up, but she still didn’t say anything.
Never mind. Stella exited the kitchen, slid silently around the corner just as Tony was opening the door, and locked herself in the bathroom. She sat on the toilet lid and clenched her fists, listening for the inevitable.
And there it was—Carmelo’s booming tenor, so sure the whole world wanted some of his cheer. “What a beautiful day!” she heard through the door. And then all the correct platitudes of a ritual visit—Zi Tony, you are so kind to invite me to your house. Za ’Ssunta, I would love some coffee. The cake looks delicious.
She realized her mother, the traitor, must have made that cake knowing Carmelo was coming over. How long had they been planning it? Had Tina known, too?
There was a tapping on the bathroom door. Stella, fuming so athletically that she was having trouble catching her breath, didn’t respond.
“Stella, come out.” It was Tina, of course. “Stella, Carmelo’s here. Come out and say hello.”
The naïveté of the entreaty made Stella angrier. “I warned you, Tina.”
A disingenuous pause. “What? He came over to visit Rocco. Just come out and say hello.”
“Bullshit,” Stella said. This event had been planned; Assunta had baked a cake. Stella’d bet anything Carmelo had come over to propose to her. She’d bet anything Tony had already approved the suit—maybe even suggested it.
Tina tapped at the door again, as if any of her deep knowledge of her sister’s personality led her to believe Stella was going to come out of the bathroom. “Stella. Come out and say hello, Carmelo’s here.”
Tina continued to tap and call for a few minutes before giving up and going away. Stella forced her breathing to even out, feeling the flush fade from her face. For a period she felt sick to her stomach, and she rubbed hercornettoand tried to drive away the bad feeling, until she realized it was not a haunting or a déjà vu at all, it was just a memory—the Christmas party four years ago when Carmelo had made her hide in the bathroom at the Italian Society, and she’d thought she was getting sick but it was just her monthly bleeding. To be thorough she checked, but it wasn’t her time today; it was only the memory that had been about to overwhelm her. She splashed water on her face.
Time ticked by as she waited for Carmelo to leave. Stella rode out waves of muted fear every time she heard footsteps near the bathroom. She was waiting for the moment Tony would come and knock down the door, give her one or two for being fresh and drag her, disheveled, to the living room. But Tony never came.
Every fifteen minutes or so Tina would come by and tap on the door, ask her to come out. She didn’t reply to her sister. Once there was violent banging, the manly kind, and Rocco’s voice: “Stella, get out of the bathroom. I need to piss.”
“Go piss out the window,” she snapped, then regretted saying anything at all. She heard Rocco curse her but leave.
There was little to do in the bathroom besides lose herself in her anxieties. She found a bottle of red varnish in the medicine cabinet, and painting her nails kept her occupied for a while. She hummed to herself to force some equanimity, painting carefully. Usually Tina did Stella’s right hand. She tried not to imagine the repercussions of this afternoon. How badly would Tony beat her tonight after Carmelo left? Was this going to be the rest of her life, hiding in a bathroom?
Carmelo seemed determined to prove he was as stubborn as Stella. Two hours must have passed, but she still heard his aggressively cheerful voice booming from the living room. Didn’t he realize that if she were forced to come out at this point, she would be completely humiliated? Did he plan on not leaving her any dignity at all?
The last time Tina knocked, she had changed up her cajole. “Stella, come out. I have to do a number two. It’s serious.”
Stella didn’t answer. She was engaged in a full sulk now, and ashamed of herself, but she saw no other way out. The sun outside the window was dimming and her head was filling up with a twilight ache.
Two minutes later, Tina came by again. “Stella! Please come out. I have to go.” She rapped, hard.Bang bang bang.“Stella! Please, please, Stella, please. It’s an emergency. Please come out. Or just let me in! You don’t even have to come out.”
Tina wasn’t a very good actor. She was probably really suffering. Well. Served her right. She had chosen to be loyal to Carmelo, take his side over her own sister’s. With genuine malice, Stella hoped Tina shat herself.
“Please, Stella.” Tina’s voice was breaking. “I’ll do anything. I’llgive you my gold necklace. Please, Stella.” She rapped again. “All of my jewelry. I’ll do all your chores for you. Please, Stella.”
Stella looked down at her shiny drying nails. They weren’t perfect, but they were pretty good.You’re a cold woman, Stella,she heard Carmelo saying.
She sat silently until her sobbing sister went away.
FINALLYSTELLA HEARDCARMELOmake his good-byes and leave. For good measure, she waited another fifteen minutes; she would hate to come out and find out they’d all been playing a trick on her and he was still there. Feeling prim, she exited the bathroom, her red nails smoothing the sweat-wrinkled skirt of her pink Palm Sunday dress.
Rocco, sitting on the couch, sneered at her. She hoped he had taken her advice and pissed out the window. Next to him sat Tina, whose back was slumped, eyes downcast. Stella didn’t have to decide whether she wanted to ask Tina about what had happened, because her mother came into the living room to announce, “Dinnertime. I just have to strain the pasta. Get the table ready, Tina.” Assunta shot Stella a malevolent look. “You, too,stupida brutta. Help your sister for one time in your life.” She snorted and performed her version of a flounce back to the kitchen, wide hips lurching over her swollen legs.
Tina and Stella were silent during dinner. Stella was afraid to draw attention to herself, lest her frighteningly neutral father be inspired to take a position on her behavior this afternoon. Tina, meanwhile, stared darkly at her plate. Stella had begun to feel remorse about how vengefully she’d treated her sister, even if Tina had betrayed Stella. Stella wondered what had happened to Tina’s number two.
When dinner was over, Rocco went to the Caramanico bedroom to change into his robe. The women could hear his shout all the way from the kitchen. “Tina! What’s the matter in here? It smells like shit!”
Stella caught Tina’s arm. “What did you do?” she whispered.
Tina shoved the pile of dirty dishes onto the counter and wipedher forehead, which had broken into prodigious sweat, on the sleeve of her good dress. “Oh, Madonna, Stella. When you wouldn’t come out of the bathroom, I had to gocacchiso bad... my stomach was upset, I don’t know what it was. Oh, it was so bad, there was nothing I could do! So I...” Stella handed her a dishrag, which Tina used to wipe her mouth—even her mouth was sweating. “So I went in the bedroom and took one of the bowls from the wedding china, you know, from the box under the bed. I went in the bowl, and—”
Stella almost choked on her scandalized laughter. “Tina! You madecacchiin your wedding china?” But even as she spoke she considered what else her sister could possibly have done. Gone outside in the yard?
