“Tina!”Rocco was bellowing.
“A big bowl,” Tina said urgently. “You know, the kind for fancy soups. There was nothing to wipe with, so I used my nightgown, the silk one from my honeymoon. But then there was nowhere to put it, so I put thecacchibowl and the nightgown under the bed, and now the whole room stinks.” Tina was crying sloppily. “What do I do? If Rocco finds out what I did...”
“Tina!”Rocco shouted.
“Rooo-ccoo!”Assunta shouted back, so loudly Tina was startled out of her tears. “Rocco! I need you!” She turned to give Stella a theatrically accusatory glare, then called, “There’s something stuck behind the stove, Rocco! I need you to move it for me!”
“In a minute,” Rocco called back.
“No, right now!” Assunta was pushing the oven from the wall. “Hurry or it will fall on me!” It was like a vaudeville production, Assunta trundling herself down to her knees. But here Rocco came hurrying into the kitchen, after all, so maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous. “Go,stupida,” Assunta hissed, smacking Tina on the calf.
Stella and Tina ducked past Rocco, scurrying down the hallway and into the second bedroom. It stank like a butcher’s slop pile in July.
“Ugh, Tina,” Stella said, but they didn’t have time to waste. Shecould hear the oven squeal as Rocco moved it with unfortunate ease. “I don’t see why you thought it was going to fall on you,” he was saying to Assunta. They only had seconds to solve this.
Tina bent down behind the bed and rose slowly, carefully, the china tureen sloshing brimful between her hands with a soupy yellow-brown liquid in which Stella could plainly, regrettably, make out thelupiniTina had been snacking on at lunch. Stella heard Rocco coming back down the hall and in a flash of synchronicity she threw the window open just as Tina lunged toward it—for a moment they were perfectly connected again, like they had been as children, as if they shared the same set of eyes and hands and impulses—and Tina tossed the whole lot of it, nightgown, shit, tureen and all, through the open window, which Stella brought crashing back down onto the sash just as the china smashed against the driveway.
Rocco opened the door and looked from one flush-faced sister to the other. They smiled at him pleasantly.
“What are you doing in here?” he said to Stella after a moment of confusion.
“Just leaving,” Stella said. “Tina was lending me her red nail polish.” She wished she’d been able to think of something else to say, but what were the odds that Rocco would notice her nails were already painted?
“Huhn,” Rocco grunted. Stella filed past him, followed by Tina, who went to wash herself off before her husband noticed the streak of brown across her bosom.
IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE,Tony’s sitting out the whole charade peacefully.
Tina and Rocco had gone to bed; Stella was sitting at the kitchen table with her mother when Tony joined them. He seemed cheerful and youthful; Carmelo’s demeanor had proved its contagiousness. He poured himself a glass of wine and topped off his wife’s and daughter’s.
“Salut,”he said, and Stella murmured“Salut”soberly as heclinked her glass. Assunta did the same, but she was peering up at her husband through her bushy eyebrows in a way that put Stella on alert. Her mother knew what was coming.
“I’m toasting the impending marriage of my oldest daughter, who all the world thought was doomed to be a spinster.” Tony smiled at his women. “Congratulate me.”
“Tonnon,” Assunta said, warning.
“Congratulate me!” He slapped the table, indicating that his good-naturedness was not to be taken for granted. “It’s a great thing for a father.”
“Congratulations,” Assunta whispered, making Stella apologetic eyes.
“Now,fhijlia mia,” he said to Stella, “I think you have a lot of work to be doing on your trousseau.” He shook his finger at her, almost playful. “I have a feeling you have been very neglectful.”
“Papa, I’mnotgetting married.” But Stella was shaking, tremors running up her arms.You’re a cold woman, Stella.
“Oh yes, you are. I told Carmelo this afternoon. He’s coming back tomorrow with a ring.” Antonio shrugged, jovial. “Who knows, maybe he’ll buy you a diamond, although God knows you don’t deserve one.”
Stella’s mind was trembling with confusion; in this weird moment, her conviction had eroded. The cot in the kitchen; the recurring nightmare, recurring again; Carmelo’s hothouse roses. Carmelo, Carmelo. Carmelo, who had purchased her from her father like he would have a cow, who didn’t care whether he had her consent as long as he had Antonio’s. But... She hated herself for thinking it, but... Would it really be so terrible to be married to Carmelo Maglieri? He was no Rocco Caramanico; he would never barter Stella for lightbulbs or ogle her sister. But marriage—to have her body broken open by a man...
“But Papa.” Stella swallowed half her wine, a sour splash inher throat. “Remember when you told Rocco you weren’t going to make Tina marry him? That it was Tina’s choice if she wanted to get married?”
“You have a choice, too,” Tony said. “You can choose to marry Carmelo Maglieri or you can go straight to hell, if I have to kill you myself.”
For once in his life, Tony showed mercy and stood up and left the kitchen, a dramatic exit for thepater ex machina. At least Stella didn’t have to argue with him anymore; she had so little dignity as it was.
Not meeting her mother’s eye, Stella drank down the rest of her wine, trying to sort through her feelings.I would have given you anything you wanted, Stella,Carmelo had said.I would have given you the world.Had he meant it? But what was the world to her, if her own body wasn’t hers? The second glass of wine was spreading over her stomach. She stood and went to the counter for the flask.
Assunta followed her, reached up, and put her palm against the nape of Stella’s neck. Her hand was warm, making Stella realize how cold the kitchen was.
Her mother had always loved Carmelo. Her mother, who loved Stella so much. Her smart, simple mother, who knew so much about survival. Assunta wouldn’t wish this marriage on Stella if it were such a terrible thing.
