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Ten
Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me?
—Gerard Manley Hopkins,
from “Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend”
For a long moment, Sabina stood before the closed door and debated. What were the chances that Isadora would be home and Mary out? Guilt washed over her for wanting to avoid her friend, but what could she say? She needed some advice, and Isadora was far more likely to have the sound kind. With a sigh, she shifted the basket she held and knocked on the door to apartment 2B.
Mary opened it with her usual bright smile and dashed all such hopes. “Bina! Thank heavens, a distraction. Come on in. Say, is something wrong?”
Their apartment smelled like cleaner and medicine—a sharp contrast to Mary’s smile. A low moan came from behind the closed door to the right of the small living area, which Sabina knew was Mr. and Mrs. Bennato’s bedroom. Her eyes tracked that way before flicking back to Mary. “How’s your mother?”
Mary didn’t answer. Just held her gaze for a moment, long enough for Sabina to see the war going on somewhere deep inside her. Then a switch flipped, and the smile reemerged. “Ask Izzy. What’s that?”
“Oh.” Sabina held out the basket. “I sweet talked Cook into letting me into the kitchen so I could practice my pastry crust. I thought maybe you all would enjoy the results.”
What she’d actually thought was that it wasn’t fair that they had a cook and a maid and wasted enough food to feed an army, while her friends had a mother wasting away, a father who never bothered coming home, and, as far as she knew, no money to spare on anything beyond the necessities. When she’d explained to Cook that she wanted to make something for the Bennatos, the terrifying little woman had actually patted her cheek and said—in Sicilian, of course—that she was welcome in the kitchen any time.
Mary lifted the napkin covering the food, let out a squeal, and snatched up one of the warm genovesi. Sabina had to press her lips against the smile as Mary took a huge bite. Powdered sugar clung to her lipstick, the custard filling oozed out, and for one blissful moment, they were kids again and everything was right with the world.
Mary laughed and licked the custard from the corner of her mouth, then the sugar from her fingers. “I don’t have to share these, right?”
Right on cue, the door to her mother’s bedroom eased open, and Isadora slipped out. Given the expression on her face, she was probably ready to chide Mary for her squeal—Sabina had witnessed the tension between the sisters many times—but when she spotted Sabina, she smiled instead. And eyed the pastry in Mary’s hands. “Is that genovesi?”
Mary made a show of holding the basket to her chest. “Mine. All mine.”
In days gone by, Isadora would have gone along with the joke, argued for her share, perhaps even pretended to wrestle her sister for the treat. But those were the days when she didn’t have shadows under her eyes as dark as the ones Mary smudged on with kohl, when her face wasn’t as pale as the plaster behind her. She padded closer but didn’t reach for a pastry. She just offered Sabina a tired smile. “That was thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
Poor Izzy. And Mary. They reacted so differently, but both were just reacting. That’s all life could be for them right now. How well Sabina knew the feeling. She smiled back. “I made way too many—I didn’t realize Cook’s recipe was meant to feed the whole village. What to do but share?”
“Here.” Mary shoved one at her sister and then spun into their tiny kitchen. When she opened the icebox, Sabina tried to see what else was inside without making it obvious that she was looking.
The shelves were empty. Empty. Her heart clenched. They needed more than pastries, and she’d have to see what she could do about that. It would be too obvious if she showed up with a whole meal, but it would only take a few whispered words to a few busybodies, and all of Taylor Street would soon be dropping by.
That’s what a village did, after all. Once they knew it needed doing.
She refreshed her smile and moved her gaze from Mary to Isadora. “Do you have a few minutes to visit, or…?” She glanced at the closed bedroom door.
Isadora nibbled at the treat and looked over her shoulder. “She’s resting for now. I shouldn’t leave her for long, but she’ll be all right for a few minutes.”
Mary hurried back out, taking Sabina by the wrist and tugging her toward the other bedroom. “I was just about to do my eyebrows. We can do yours at the same time.”
Sabina let herself be pulled toward the room Mary and Isadora shared, but not without objection. “Touch my eyebrows and I’ll be forced to break every one of your fingers, Mary.”
Laughter filled the hall. “Oh, come on. It’s all the rage. If you pluck them out, you can draw them on however you like. Don’t you want a higher arch?”
Even Isadora’s chuckle sounded exhausted. “Stand firm, Sabina. Your arch is beautiful.”
“Oh, what do you know, Izzy? You won’t even bob your hair.”
“I like my hair long.”
“And I like my eyebrows, thank you very much.” Sabina pulled free of Mary’s grip and sat down on her bed.
