Kiss Carlo

by Adriana Trigiani

  “Who doesn’t want a big fanfare?” Mike scratched his head. “Does my brother know I’ve been invited?”

  “This is from Nicky.”

  “I always felt bad for that kid. No father. No mother.”

  “He’s done just fine.”

  “Jo mothered him, I guess.” Mike shrugged.

  “Nicky had many mothers.” Hortense stood to go. “I hope you can make it.”

  “I’ll ask Nancy. She’s the boss.”

  Mike watched Hortense as she walked out onto Fitzwater. The bus pulled up, and she climbed aboard. He shook his head. Mrs. Mooney had worked for Dom too long; she had picked up his tight ways. Why would a titan of business take the bus? She should have her own car and driver. Maybe he’d ask her about that. Maybe she hadn’t thought about it. Maybe Pronto could provide such a service. Why not?

  * * *

  The curtain call for The Taming of the Shrew was an additional scene to the raucous comedy in the play proper. Calla had directed Petruchio (Nicky) to chase Katherine (Norma) up the stage-right aisle and down the left until he caught her; she had the rest of the cast pair off and chase one another. Tony Coppolella chased Josie Ciletti in the mezzanine aisle while the remainder of the cast fanned out onstage. The audience went wild; the play earned the first standing ovation that any play directed by Calla Borelli had ever received.

  The set was an exuberant Elizabethan wedding village painted in cotton candy colors, bright shades of yellow, green, and pink with a bright blue muslin sky; modernist papier-mâché clouds swayed beneath the canopy of blue. Tonight it would also serve as the setting for Calla and Nicky’s belated wedding reception. Every cousin, friend, and neighbor had been invited to the celebration. Gloria Monty and her husband, Robert F. O’Byrne, had driven down from New York City. Ralph Stampone and Mary and Mark Silverberg drove in too, not wanting to miss a moment of the launch of Nicky and Calla’s new chapter.

  As the curtain fell, the family made the party onstage.

  The cousin-in-laws along with Calla’s sisters Helen and Portia flew into action with the crack efficiency of a good prop team as they set up the party. Nonna was wheeled center stage in her chair as guests lined up to greet her. Mabel threw the lace tablecloth on the work table while Lena centered the flower arrangement and the candles. Tony rolled in coolers of A-treat soda and beer. Josie handed the cast members baskets of fresh-wrapped sandwiches to disburse. Nino brought the punch bowl in from the wings, Elsa followed with the cookie tray, and Gio pushed the wedding cake in on a cart. Soon, the guests filled the stage and the rest of the cast filtered in from the wings.

  Hortense Mooney climbed up the steps to the stage, leading the ladies from her church auxiliary. Her favorite thing to do with her money, after spoiling her daughters, was to treat her friends from the church to bus trips and cultural events. The ladies enjoyed The Taming of the Shrew, but mostly, like everyone else, they were thrilled to see Nicky, who was on television.

  Backstage, Gloria and Robert knocked on Nicky’s dressing room door.

  “Open up!” Gloria banged on the door.

  Nicky threw the door open and embraced them. “Gloria! You made it! Robert!”

  “We decided we’re not taking a train every time we want to see you. You have to come up and do the show again.”

  “And give up all this?”

  “We’d love to have you back,” Robert said. “Lux soap is insisting on it.”

  “Please consider it,” Gloria said. “The play was magnificent, and so were you! The theater was packed.”

  “My wife put my face on the poster with the subtitle ‘Star of CBS Television’s Love of Life.’ She figured she could sell out the house, and she did.”

  “So business is good?”

  “We’re getting there, breaking even, which is better than bleeding red.”

  “Let’s get you back on our show. You can do both.”

  “You got it, Gloria.”

  “Great. We’re on it.” Gloria gave Nick a big hug. “I think I need you to come back on and kill off a few people. Or not. I just miss you.”

  “You know she means it.” Robert embraced him too.

  “We’re going to have to drive back tonight, but we had to see you.”

  “I can never thank you enough, both of you.”

  “Don’t thank us. You’re just plain old-fashioned good, my friend,” Gloria assured him.

  Nicky watched Gloria and Robert go, and thought how lucky he was to have met them, and how once you meet your angels, they never really leave you, even when you leave them.

  “Hey Nick.” Tony poked his head out of his dressing room. “Hambone brought you a gift.”

  Hambone Mason emerged from the dressing room in a smoking jacket, carrying a bottle of vodka. “The wedding punch needs a kick, I understand.”

  “What are you waiting for, Hambone?” Nicky laughed. “Spike it!”

  Nicky followed Hambone up to the stage where he found Calla directing the guests to the buffet table. Nicky swept Calla into his arms.

  “Do you like my dress?” she asked. Calla twirled in the bright yellow taffeta gown. “It’s the only yellow gown I could find. I look like a lemon.”

  “No, you’re Beatrice.” Nicky kissed his wife. He whistled to get the revelers’ attention as Josie went through the crowd with the traditional white satin bag, collecting wedding gifts of cash. The sack, La Boost, was filling up fast. Josie encouraged the guests to contribute with both her words and her cleavage.

  As the cast, their friends, and the family gathered around, Nicky saw Hortense and her church ladies, standing in the wings. He went to Hortense, took her by the hand, and brought her center stage. Leaving her with Calla, he went back to the wings, gathered the church ladies, and brought them into the spotlight too.

  “I have to thank Mrs. Hortense Mooney. Please raise a glass. I lost my mother, and my Aunt Jo became my second mother, but God didn’t think one mother was enough, so he gave me a third mother, Mrs. Mooney. No woman ever looked out for anyone like she looked out for me.”

  “Cent’Anni.” Hortense raised her glass, and the guests followed suit. “It means a hundred years of health and happiness,” she explained to her church group.

  “Best dispatcher. Irreplaceable,” Dom grumbled. “Had to go and make gravy and get rich.”

  “The American dream, honey,” Jo said softly. “Enough to go around.”

  “I’d like to toast my wife, Calla.” Nicky raised his glass.

  “A fine director,” Tony shouted.

  “Relentless but kind,” Hambone chimed in.

  “To Calla!” the Palazzinis toasted.

  “Who would like the floor?” Nicky raised his glass. “We have a lot of actors here—this could go all night. And we have enough punch to take us to the matinee.” The company cheered.

  Mike Palazzini edged through the crowd, excusing himself, until he made it to the center of the stage. Aunt Nancy, her sons Micky and Tricky, followed him.

  Silence fell over the crowd as Mike stood across the stage from his brother.

  “What are you doing here?” Dom asked Mike.

  “We were invited.” Mike stood with his feet about six inches apart. He twisted the gold ring on his hand.

  Dom and Mike stood facing one another, their wives beside them and their families behind them. Nicky and Calla looked at each other. The guests knew the story of the feud, but it was rare to see one dramatized on this stage that had not been written by Shakespeare.

  “I invited them,” Nicky admitted.

  “But I was the messenger. I went over to Fitzwater to deliver the invitation.”

  “You too, Mrs. Mooney?” Dom felt betrayed.

  Hortense shrugged. “I knew Mr. Mike wouldn’t throw me out.”

  “We want the families to be together again, Uncle Dom,” Calla said.

  “I think it’s a good idea, Dominic,” Jo said quietly.

  “Did I ask you, Joanna?”

&nbs
p; “You did not. But I’ll say it again.”

  “You don’t have to. I think it’s a good idea too, Dominic,” Mike said.

  “Did you see the play?” Dom asked Mike gingerly.

  “We sat up in the nosebleeds with the colored folks,” Mike admitted.

  “Hey,” Hortense said. “We liked our view.”

  “It’s not bad, Mrs. Mooney,” Mike agreed.

  “I like to sit up high.” Nancy Palazzini looked lovely in a sapphire-blue satin cocktail dress with a matching bolero. Her hair was tinted red; her makeup and nails, as they always had been, were a study in perfection.

  “Good to see you again, Aunt Jo, Uncle Dom,” Micky said. He was handsome and well turned out like his father, with the same head of thick hair.

  “Same goes for me.” Tricky was shy and didn’t like to speak in public, but everyone knew his heart. He was trim and well manicured, like his mother.

  Dom made a circle on the stage floor with the toe of his old black dress shoe.

  “I’m sorry about Ricky,” he finally said to his brother, Mike.

  Mike’s eyes filled with tears. “What are you going to do?”

  “We gave him up for a good cause,” Nancy said. “But we live with the loss every day.”

  “Not easy,” Mike said quietly.

  “No, it isn’t.” Nancy put her hand on her husband’s back. “But we cope. Jo’s letter got me through.”

  “You wrote her a letter?” Dom asked.

  “I can write letters without permission from you.”

  “Not when they’re on the island.”

  “You can get mail to the island, Dominic.” Jo raised her voice.

  “Since when?”

  “Since I mailed it and it arrived and it was read. All right?”

  “Watch your tone, Joanna!”

  “I will not! Especially when you’re behaving like a jackass.”

  “Can’t argue with her there, Dom.” Mike opened his hands to them.

  “You’re on her side?”

  “I always liked her better than you.”

  “Now the truth comes out.”

  “And none of it matters,” Nancy said, gripping her alligator purse so tightly by the handle it seemed it might snap off. “All we are is what we’ve lost. And you boys”—she looked at Dom and then at her husband—“know we’ve lost a lot.”

  “It affected all of us. We miss our cousins. Even though we always had our seats together at the Phillies games,” Dominic admitted.

  “You did what?” Dom was stunned.

  “Ricky, Micky, and Tricky, and Gio and Nino and me. We went to the games together. And when Nicky got old enough, we brought him along too,” Dominic confessed.

  “That’s insubordination.” Dom wiped his face with his hands.

  “Evidently, they even have sports on the island.” Jo sipped her punch.

  “We would’ve done it anyway, Pop. We’re family. You don’t just throw people out like paper plates.” Nino put his arm around his father’s shoulders.

  “We have so many good memories. We’d go to Wildwood Crest in the summers. Uncle Mike would blow the horn when we passed the bridge with the burning torches.”

  “You remember that, Gio?” Uncle Mike smiled.

  “And Pop, you taught us how to fish. You drove the boat when we water-skied. And you took us on all the rides.” Gio looked at Dom.

  “Because I had a weak stomach. I still do,” Mike admitted.

  “You always looked so beautiful in your bathing suits. And your caps always matched,” Jo said to Nancy with admiration.

  “What can I say, I love fashion.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Jo assured her.

  “And when we came in from the beach, you had dinner ready. Every night,” Nancy said appreciatively.

  “It was my pleasure,” Jo said. “I’m allergic to the sun. I’m not allergic to pots and pans.”

  “Thank God for that,” Dom said.

  Nicky took Calla’s hand and joined his uncles, his cousins, and their wives. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.”

  “Please say you’re coming back to drive Number 4.” Dom put his hands in the prayer position.

  “No, I’ve found a new calling, Uncle Dom. When you become an actor, you learn a technique, and it requires you to use your memory and feelings. And early on, when I first started taking classes, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ricky. He was the one among us that had the soul of an artist. He loved the opera. He read books. Not comic books.”

  “Books with hard covers.” Micky nodded.

  “He was nuts for the theater. Broadway. He loved to go to a show in New York. He was always begging me to take him into the city for a show,” Mike remembered.

  “Ricky had class,” Gio said. “That’s the only word for it.”

  “It was nice that one of us had it,” Tricky offered.

  “He was my boy that appreciated the finer things,” Nancy said quietly. “But the finest of all were his friendships. He would be happy tonight.”

  “To Ricky.” Nicky raised his glass.

  “Cent’anni,” Calla said as they touched their glasses.

  “No more fights!” Dominic raised his glass.

  “Mazel tov!” Elsa clinked glasses with her cousins-in-law.

  Calla raised her glass. “To my sisters and my brothers-in-law!” Helen and Portia raised their glasses with their husbands.

  “Salute!” Mike tapped his glass with his brother Dom’s.

  Hortense tipped her glass to Hambone.

  “Refill?” he asked.

  “A smidge.” Hambone filled Hortense’s glass.

  Two policemen pushed through the crowd.

  “Officer, we’re having a party. If we’re blocking the street, we’ll clear the cars,” Nicky promised them.

  “The cars are fine,” the officer said.

  His partner scanned the crowd. “We’re looking for Giovanni Palazzini.”

  “You are not serious.” Mabel turned to her husband and smacked the back of his head. “We’re at a wedding reception.”

  “Is he here?” the cop wanted to know.

  “Of course he’s here. The entire family is here.” Mabel offered her husband up like a Swedish meatball.

  “I’m over here, Officer.” Gio raised his hand.

  Aunt Jo stepped between the cops and her son. “I’m sure there’s been a mistake.”

  “Is this your mother?” the cop asked Gio.

  “Yes.”

  “Mothers. Vessels of hope.” The cop shook his head. “Mr. Palazzini, we need you to come down to the station with us.”

  “The station?” Mabel moaned. “Will there be cuffs?”

  “You guys, don’t let this throw you. Carry on with the party,” Gio said as his hands were clicked into the handcuffs. Gio was led out the stage door and into the squad car parked in the alley. Mabel followed them into the alley.

  “Where are you going?” Aunt Jo asked Uncle Dom.

  “I gotta bail him out.”

  “You can’t leave me here alone.”

  “Stay and enjoy.” Dom raised his hands and addressed the group. “Enjoy the party. All will be well. I’ll spring my son and return to the festivities.”

  “I saw this coming in 1939,” Hortense shook her head.

  Mike looked at his nephews. “Should we follow him?”

  * * *

  Calla stood at the window of the Fourth Precinct. There were more cars representing the Palazzini family parked in front than there were official police vehicles.

  Nicky emerged from the jail with Gio and Uncle Dom. “We got him!”

  “When God closes a door, He opens a window!” Jo exclaimed.

  “But not wide enough that I could jump out of it.” Gio rubbed his wrists.

  Mabel burst into tears and she embraced her husband.

  “I won’t gamble anymore, honeybun,” Gio promised.

  “And I’m going to pretend to believe
you.”

  The family shuffled out of the police station and into their cars. Mike went to Dom. “How much did that set you back?”

  “I didn’t pay.”

  “Who did?”

  “Nicky used la boost.”

  Mike shook his head. “That’s bad luck.”

  “I couldn’t stop him. It was a bag of cash when cash was called for.”

  “It’s still bad luck.”

  “Hey. After all these years, I’d call it good luck—Nicky and Calla collected enough to spring him.”

  * * *

  Calla rolled over in bed. She’d woken up to the scent of bacon frying, eggs being scrambled, and buttery toast.

  “I have the best husband.”

  “It’s always a good idea to stand next to Gio when you want to be head of class.”

  “Poor Gio.” Calla sat up in bed.

  “Good thing we had la boost. Cash at the ready is evidently a requirement in night court.”

  Calla got out of bed and went to her husband. She put her arms around him. “I could stay here forever.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I bought a house.”

  “Nicky, I don’t want a house.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to live right here. You love this place too, don’t you?”

  “This is very bohemian. We’re theater people, so good for us. We’re like jazz. Or the beat poets. We live in the crawl space of the theater. What could be more romantic?”

  “I want to keep things simple.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I got a bad taste when my sisters divvied up my parents’ stuff. I don’t want a life of material things.”

  “We won’t need much in this house that I looked at.”

  “Is it small?”

  “It’s not too big.”

  “I don’t like ostentatious.”

  “I understand. Why don’t you eat your breakfast? Get dressed, and I’ll show it to you. We still have time to wiggle out of the deal.”

  “We do?”

  “I’m never going to do anything to make you unhappy. Except maybe buy the wrong house.”

  When Calla and Nicky jumped into his car, she looked back at the theater. She told herself she would look at the house Nicky found, politely thank him, but she had no intention of ever leaving Borelli’s. It was her heirloom, her lamp, clock, crystal, and formal set of dishes, the living meaning of the lives of her parents. She was one with their memory whenever she was inside the theater.