Fearfully, Stella peeled the covers back in the darkness and tucked herself in. For good measure, she took the pillow out from under her head and put it between them in the middle of the bed.
No sound came from where Carmelo stood, and at first Stella was afraid she had failed to track him in the dark over the pounding of her heartbeat, which splashed over her eardrums like unrelenting waves against the hull of a boat. But after a long time he gave a noisy sigh, and she heard him undo his belt buckle and step out of his pants. She was paralyzed by panic, waiting to see if he was going to respect her or if he would try to touch her anyway, for the terrifying period until finally, finally she heard him snore.
She lay in the dark, her head flat on the mattress and her ankles throbbing from walking the cobblestone streets in her heeled shoes, and felt her heart race. It was an immeasurable amount of time, hours, before she fell asleep.
ONTUESDAY, SHE NEEDED TO ESCALATE HER EFFORTS.She had come too close yesterday. Today she would have to be mean, to pick fights, to go out of her way to repel him.
She’d been so nervous even when she was asleep that she had woken with the first light of dawn and dressed defensively. In that meditative silence of morning, she’d hit on the idea that if the honeymoon went poorly enough, Carmelo might return her to her family when they got back to Hartford. If the marriage wasn’t consummated, it could be annulled. There was a shred of hope—she just had to make him hate her.
For this third day of their honeymoon, Carmelo had arranged a surprise for Stella: he had hired a horse-drawn carriage to take them around the city. As they rode in silence, staring out opposite sides at the quaint streets and parks, Stella imagined Carmelo’s internal monologue of disappointment, having wasted a week’s salary on this silly experience his new wife refused to enjoy. She savored her own badmood, nurturing her grievances and resentments, hoping that Carmelo would catch her malignance like a poisoned wind.
The day dragged, and even Carmelo was deflated in the face of Stella’s sullenness. But the worst, for everyone, was yet to come, at dinner with the Martinos. Carmela’s warm, solicitous chattering made Stella’s head spin. She needed to clip any budding blossom of friendship Carmela perceived between them.
Stella refused to speak throughout the meal, ignoring questions and avoiding eye contact. Her most hostile behaviors were thwarted, though, by Carmelo, who shamelessly covered up for her, laughing and telling weak jokes, apologizing profusely to Carmela and Paolo for subjecting poor Stella to such a tiring day. Not enough damage was being done; Stella had to foment her aggression.
The opportunity came just after the arrival of the main course. Carmela was saying to her brother, “It is hard for us to get time off, but we will come and visit you in Hartford when you have a baby. I hope it’s soon.”
This was Stella’s moment. Here she had the tools to be nasty. “I don’t really see why,” she said, surprising everyone with the bell-clear sound of her voice, “you’re so interested in our future children when you haven’t done the work of having your own.”
The moment of silence stretched so long even Stella, the author of it, felt disoriented. Paolo looked down at his plate.
“We’ve been trying since we got married,” Carmela said. The habitual warmth was gone from her voice. “I... I have had bad luck so far. But God knows what’s best.”
“Bad luck?” Stella put down her fork. Mean, she was going to be mean. Her stomach clenched in anticipation, in warning. She opened her mouth and willed the words out. “It’s true God knows what’s best. Maybe God doesn’t think you deserve to be a mother.”
“Stella,” Carmelo said. He was shocked, his eyes wide. “How can you say that?” She knew that he was thinking of Tina, whose face Stella banished from her mind.
“I just think it’s rude,” Stella said, loudly enough that the tables around them hushed. She fixed Carmela with a stare, narrowing her eyes so that she would not accidentally blink or look away. “Attacking us with questions about our children. Some people need to learn to mind their owncazzi.” Stella was glad for the low lighting, because she couldn’t make herself use that vulgar expression without feeling her face heat up—she’d never said it out loud before, only heard her father and Joey use it. But it had the desired effect.
Carmela had turned to Paolo, her face haggard as an old woman’s. “Is it all right if we leave?” She didn’t wait for an answer, dropping her cloth napkin over her plate as she rose from her chair. Paolo was standing, too, pulling out his wallet as Carmela headed toward the coat check.
Carmelo stood in protest. “Paolo, please don’t, we’ll be fine.”
“No, no,” Paolo said, his voice as soft and unprepossessing as ever. “Please, allow me. Carmela only means well.”
Carmelo tried to fend off Paolo’s generosity, but Paolo dropped bills on the table and followed his wife out the door. Carmelo stood as if dazed. Stella’s heart was pounding, her ears throbbing. They would have been hot to the touch, she knew. Some of the other diners were openly staring. Stella consoled herself that most of those French-speaking people probably had no idea how awful she’d been. She ate a small piece of her pork, trying to appreciate the flavor.
When Carmelo took his seat again, he was silent for several minutes. Stella persevered with her pork, but she had to cut tiny bites and chew them many times. Her stomach was tender, almost sore, because of what she’d done.
“Let’s go, Stella,” Carmelo said finally.
“No,” she said, making her voice brash and disrespectful. She couldn’t look at him. “Why should we waste all this expensive food? That doesn’t make any sense.”
They sat in silence as Stella steadily ate her way through her dinner, taking little sips of wine in hopes that it would unsour her stomach. The waiter came over to see if there was something wrong, and Carmelo bumbled through a short conversation, pantomiming paying the check. At that ugly picture, Carmelo’s over-the-top miming in the moment of his own unhappiness, Stella felt a flare of disgust.
When the waiter left the final change, Carmelo drank down his full glass of wine, then reached for Paolo’s glass. As Stella was finishing the last of her pork roast, he said suddenly, “She only meant well, I know because she is my sister, but maybe she overstepped asking about children. But you know that’s something people do, even though they shouldn’t,” he was saying, talking quickly—to himself, Stella thought, not her. “She just meant to show she cared about her family. That’s all. You should try to put the whole thing out of your mind.” Now hewastalking to her; he was touching her elbow again.
She looked up and saw his soft smile and sad eyes in the candlelight. “I hope you don’t worry about this, Stella,” Carmelo said. “I know she will be so sorry she upset you. She just wants to be your friend and she made a mistake.”
Stella felt sick. How could he take her side? Why wasn’t he leaping to his sister’s defense, shouting invectives at his malicious, vulgar wife? In this moment Stella was sure she had just made the world a worse place and gained no strength from it herself.
“I’m ready to go now,” she said. Her voice sounded like a child’s.
WHEN THEY GOT BACKto their hotel room, Stella was vibrating with remorse and fear. It was a terrible thing she’d done, terrible. Now she needed to be strong and make it stick. She rallied herself, cleared her throat, and told Carmelo she was too upset by what had happened, that she couldn’t bear to look at him tonight, he looked too much like that woman. She stared at the floor. “You had better leave me alone now.”
He didn’t say anything, and finally she looked up to check his expression, which seemed to be one of disbelief, or suppressed anger. But he pulled his coat back on and said, “I guess I’ll go have a drink.” And he left.
Stella didn’t see him again that night. She had trouble falling asleep, her conscience swirling with remorse and justifications. When she woke up in the morning the linens on the other side of the bed were still pulled to in a perfect nurse’s corner.
