“But I have lots of aunts and uncles,” Angie said. “I’m still learning all their names.”
“And cousins?” Gianna asked.
Her smile faded as she shook her head. “Not as many as you might think.”
Her answer, and the change in her demeanor, puzzled Connie. “Are there more like you? I mean, you’re a cousin they didn’t know about until now.”
“Given away, you mean?” Angie’s voice held a hint of reproach. “No cousins I know of. But I have a half sister somewhere. Mon père doesn’t know where she is. She’d be Gianna’s age, I think. A few years older than Francis.”
“He was married before?”
“I don’t think so. They don’t talk about her. Francis told me.”
“I still don’t understand why they gave you up like that,” Connie said, reaching for more socks. “Were they just too poor?”
The kitchen door lock turned and the door creaked opened. Mamma and Papa were conversing animatedly in Italian as they entered the flat, and the three girls turned their attention to the doorway between the kitchen and living room, waiting for their parents to step into view.
Mamma moved past the opening and headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms and bathroom. Papa came to stand in the doorway, still wearing his coat and soft workman’s cap. He returned the greeting from each of his daughters, then focused unsmiling brown eyes on Connie.“Your mother wishes to see you, Concetta. In your room.”
Connie’s heart stopped for a moment, her breath taken away.
They had been to the duplex. They knew about her and Paul.
Her thoughts raced. Had she left something behind in the elder Cefalus’ house? Did someone see them go in? Had Paul told someone who then told Nonna? She felt her skin go cold and clammy and knew her father could see her face blanch.
She reluctantly rose to her feet, slightly light-headed, and avoided meeting the inquiring eyes of her sisters as she walked across the room. Papa stepped aside, and she moved past him and down the hall to her darkened bedroom.
Mamma was sitting on Gianna’s bed with the light from the neighbor’s upstairs window illuminating one side of her face. She looked up as Connie entered, her dark eyes troubled. She gestured toward Connie’s bed, which stood against the opposite wall in the small room.
“Sit.”
Connie perched on the edge of the bed, facing her mother. A miniature rag rug filled the floor space between them, and Connie focused on its woven pattern as her mother spoke.
“Today we go to visit Nonna and the aunts. And while we are there, we hear this story.” Mamma’s voice took on an unexpected apologetic tone. “This is not easy for me, Concetta, but it must be said.”
Connie swallowed and nodded.
“Gaetano and Nina Cefalu, they live in the house next door. And they are gone for most of the week. But during this time, someone comes into the house. And Mariana sees this from her window on that side. Two persons. But when they go in, they don’t put on the lights. They don’t act like two persons who should be there. So, she sends Tony over to look into the windows.”
Connie rolled her lips together and drew in a deep breath, her heart pounding so hard she could barely think.
“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” her mother asked.
Connie did not respond, hoping against hope that she didn’t know.
“He saw Paul. And a girl. A girl with no clothes. On the sofa.” Mamma paused.
Connie closed her eyes and bit her lips. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the part about Cousin Tony or what her parents now knew.
“I’m sorry to have to say this.” Mamma’s voice was gentle. “It was Tina DeMarco, Nino’s girlfriend. And they were doing what only the married persons should do.”
Connie’s eyes flew open and she looked up at Mamma. “Tina?” The word came out in a strangled whisper. “He was there with Tina?”
“I cannot tell you what to do,” Mamma said sadly, “but I do not want that boy in my house. He cannot be here on Sunday. Or ever again.”
“You’re sure it was Tina?”
“Concetta, what difference does it make? He cheats on you. And he is immoral.”
Connie’s mind was spinning. Was Cousin Tony covering for her? Had he truly thought she was Tina? Or had Paul actually taken Tina there on another night?
“I’m sorry.” Mamma rose from the bed and crossed the small space between them. She bent to hug Connie with a quick squeeze, then quietly left the room.
The light in the house next door went out, and Connie sat staring into the darkness of her room. She had just been given a gift, a reprieve from what could have been an incredibly devastating revelation to her parents. She should be thankful. But if what her mother had said was true, she should also be mortified. Paul had played her, and now he knew her intimately, and she would never be able to face him again.
She rose from her bed and walked into the kitchen, her head buzzing with the rush of what she was about to do. The phone hung on the wall beside the door to the living room, and she took the receiver from its cradle, then dialed Paul’s house.
Paul’s mother answered.
“Mrs. Cefalu? This is Connie Balestra. Is Paul there?”
“Connie. How nice to hear you. He’s here, but he’s eating. He worked late. Can I have him call you back?”
“No, if you don’t mind, I need to talk to him now. Please.”
The woman sighed, then muffled the sound while she yelled Paul’s name. “He’s coming,” she said into the phone, making no effort to hide her irritation with Connie. A moment later, Connie heard her say, “Here. It’s Connie.”
“Connie!” Paul sounded weary yet happy to hear it was her, and for a moment she almost faltered. But the thought of him making a fool of her was enough to bolster her courage.
“I’ve got two words for you,” she said through clenched teeth. “Tina DeMarco.”
A low groan escaped him.
The sound increased her resolve. “My mother has withdrawn her invitation. Don’t come on Sunday, or ever again. Got it?”
“Con—”
“I take responsibility for what I do, Paul, so, I don’t hold any grudges. I did what I did. I just don’t want to see you again.”
“Con—”
“Paul? It’s over.”
She hung up the phone and leaned her forehead against the wall. Her arms and legs were trembling from the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and tears began to roll down her face.
Her father’s arms came around her shoulders from behind, taking her completely by surprise as he cradled her against his broad chest.
“You do the right thing.” His breath was hot in her ear. “You stay with the boy who takes you to see the opera.”
***
Connie’s anger carried her through Saturday and her date with Greg without a second thought about Paul. She thoroughly enjoyed La Boheme and the expensive Italian restaurant Greg took her to after the show. Greg was charming and caring and a gentleman, and when he walked her up the stairs to her door and gently kissed her good night, she was riding high on being with him again.
Sunday morning brought the first pangs of regret about Paul. She rose at six to join her family for seven o’clock Mass, a calculated choice to ensure she didn’t run into Paul at church. Yet somehow she knew that he wouldn’t be at nine o’clock Mass, either. He would avoid all possibility of seeing her out of self-preservation. She wondered if his family’s weekly breakfast would be subdued, their awareness of the breakup and the reason behind it invoking a certain level of sympathy for her, but she knew in her heart that she was reading too much importance into it for them. Paul’s girls came and went. He may have upset his grandmother temporarily, but her concerns wouldn’t be for Connie as much as for how inappropriately her grandson behaved.
His first phone call came that evening, after they finished the dinner from which he was conspicuously absent. Connie purposely avoided answering the
phone, and when Gianna told her who was calling, she refused to take the call.
“He sounded really down,” Gianna said, returning to her place beside David on the couch. “He said to tell you that you had the whole thing wrong about Tina.”
“I’m sure.”
David’s arm lay across the back of the couch behind Gianna’s shoulders, and Connie sat in her dad’s recliner across from them, watching David’s fingers gently play with her sister’s hair. Connie had considered inviting Greg to dinner, but it had felt like too much too soon after their big evening together the night before. Now she wished she had, for a hollow loneliness was overtaking her as she watched the tenderness David exhibited toward Gianna. She wanted and needed some of that for herself.
David was studying her with his golden-brown eyes. “Tell me about Paul.” His compassionate tone of voice compelled her to answer.
“There’s nothing to tell. I’ve known him forever. And I should have known better than to trust him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a womanizer. And it was ridiculous for me to think I could be the one who would change that.”
“Why would you want to, at your age?”
His question caught Connie off-guard, and no immediate answer came to mind. She certainly wasn’t ready to marry Paul and settle down. She gave David a reserved smile. “I don’t know.”
“I understand your attraction to him,” David said. “Gianna says he’s almost as good-looking as I am.”
Connie’s smile broadened. “How shallow, huh?”
David gave her his handsome, white-toothed smile, then turned serious. “Physical attraction is a very real thing. But I’m sure you know you can’t expect a long-term relationship from that alone. There’s got to be more.”
“You’re assuming there wasn’t,” Connie said, slightly annoyed.
“So far, you haven’t told me what that was.”
What was it she loved about Paul? “Well, besides being wicked handsome, he’s a nice guy. Pretty even-tempered. Family-oriented. He goes to church. We have the same background. Share a lot of the same experiences.”
David nodded. “He sounds safe. Familiar. Is that all you want?”
What else should she want? “I want a companion,” she said. “Someone to do things with. Someone whose company I enjoy.”
“Then why a guy? I met your friend Marilyn. You seem like good friends.”
He had her there. “Okay. I’m looking for a mate for life. Is that what you want me to say? These are my practice runs at finding the right guy some day?”
“Aren’t they?” David asked.
“I suppose they are.”
“So, do you want someone who challenges you and brings excitement into your life and stretches your mind and your outlook, or do you want someone who’s just like you? Unless, of course, you see Paul’s womanizing as your challenge. But after you’ve cured him of that—and the sex cools down, as it always does—what’s left to keep you interested?”
Connie smiled at him. “Some parish somewhere really lost out when you decided not to be a priest.”
David smiled back at her. “Think about it, Connie. Don’t just settle.” His long fingers moved to affectionately stroke Gianna’s cheek and chin as she turned to smile at him. “You’ll get more from life when you don’t do what comes easy.”
***
Paul called a few more times during the following week, mostly in the evenings, once early in the morning in the hopes of catching Connie before she left for UVM. The last time he called was on the morning of Angie’s birthday, when Connie and Angie were in the kitchen getting ready to eat breakfast before heading to their respective schools.
“I feel sorry for him,” Angie said as she hung up the phone. “He sounds so sad. Why don’t you at least talk to him?”
“I have nothing to say.” Connie took a box of cereal down from the pantry shelf and pushed the door shut, then moved to the dish cupboard to get bowls. She was not about to debate her decision to cut all ties with Paul.
“You waited so long for him to ask you out,” Angie said.
“I was demented.”
Angie laughed, a tinkling sound that made Connie smile.
“So, happy birthday, Sweet Sixteen,” Connie said, changing the subject as she carried the breakfast items to the kitchen table. “Do you feel older and wiser?”
Angie brought mugs of coffee for both of them, then sat down across the table from Connie. “Not especially.” She was uncharacteristically blasé about this landmark birthday.
A light suddenly went on for Connie. She gawked at Angie. “This isn’t really your birthday, is it?”
Angie smiled from across the table and shook her head.
“How old were you when they gave you up?”
“Ten days.”
Connie sipped her coffee. “Was your mother sick even then?”
“No. Just scared.”
“Of what?”
Angie studied the steaming mug before her. “That I would be taken away from them. That if they didn’t find a new home for me, someone would come, and they would never see me again.”
Connie couldn’t fathom what Angie was saying. “Why?”
Tears welled in Angie’s eyes and, instead of answering, she simply shook her head.
Connie stared at her, totally confused. “Who are you—some Abenaki princess or something?”
Angie let out a wry laugh. “Hardly.”
“Buon compleanno, Angelina!” Mamma came through the backdoor, having already been downstairs to start her laundry workload for the day. She approached the sitting Angie and cupped the girl’s face in both of her hands to plant a noisy kiss on her forehead.
“Thanks, Mamma,” Angie said, giving Mamma a smile.
Mamma gestured toward the box of cereal. “Boh! I make you something good for your birthday. Eggs and the bacon. Connie, for you, too?”
Connie glanced at her wristwatch. “I can’t, Mamma. Greg will be here soon.” She looked across the table at Angie once more. “Are you ever going to tell me what this was all about?”
Angie dipped a teaspoon into the sugar bowl between them and added sugar to her coffee, then slowly stirred it in. “Ask David. He knows.”
Connie blinked. “David? Gianna’s David?”
Angie nodded.
“What does he have to do with it?”
“What does he have to do with what?” Gianna shuffled into the kitchen wearing pale blue print flannel pajamas and flip-flops. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and she stifled a yawn as she entered the room.
Angie frowned at Connie. “I told you before, he’s a friend of the family.”
“What family?” Gianna asked. “What are you guys talking about?”
Connie stood up from the table, her eyes focused on Angie’s. “I’ve got to go, but I don’t want to hear it from David. I want to hear it from you.”
“Hear what from David?” Gianna’s voice was on the verge of becoming shrill. “Stop talking in riddles, you two! What does David know?”
Connie hurriedly swallowed the coffee in her cup, leaving the uneaten cereal behind. “I have no idea, Gianna,” she said, looking at her older sister. “But apparently he knows more about this thing with the LaCroixs than you or me.”
***
Nonna, Greg, and two of Angie’s girlfriends joined the family for Angie’s birthday dinner that evening. The subject of Angie’s past never came up again. She and her friends were having a sleepover using the room normally shared by Connie and Gianna, and before dinner, Greg helped Papa move Angie’s bedsprings and mattress into the space between the twin beds to accommodate all three girls. Gianna would go home with Nonna to sleep in her extra room, and Connie would sleep at home on the couch after her evening out with Greg.
“Tell me again what that macaroni was called,” Greg said as they walked out to his car after dinner.
“Orecchiette. It means ‘little ears.’ It’s just fresh p
asta dough pinched into that shape so it holds the tomatoes.”
“And the green stuff?”
“Rapini. Broccoli rabe. I know, it’s an acquired taste. And the beans were ceci. Chick-peas.” Connie smiled at him. “Not your usual birthday dinner choice, huh?”
“You’re definitely broadening my horizons.”
“Just so you know, Angie would have picked that even if it wasn’t Friday,” Connie said, remembering his fascination with the Catholic Church’s rules. “It’s her hands-down favorite.”
“And what about you?” Greg opened the passenger door to his Mustang and held it for her. “What would you choose? And when is your birthday, anyway?”
Connie slid into the bucket seat. “April fourth. Yours?”
“May ninth.”
He shut the door and came around to sit beside her in the driver’s seat. They were traveling into Barre for the late showing of Charly. She watched him start the car.
Since their evening out at La Boheme a week earlier, Connie had become more and more aware of how much she cared about him. They had resumed kissing good-bye after carpooling each evening—chaste, heartfelt kisses that conveyed true affection. She awoke anxious to see him every morning and found herself watching for him on campus, hoping for a chance meeting, a “fix” for the empty longing she felt without him during the day. On Wednesday evening they had stayed late in the campus library, studying together, and when she looked up from her work to sneak a peek at him, she found him watching her with a contented smile that illuminated his eyes as well as his face, and her own heart thumped with joy. Afterwards, they had stopped for a quick sandwich on the way home and ended up necking at the Park and Ride when his Mustang proved to be the only other vehicle in the secluded lot.
Greg paused before putting the car in gear and gave her a quizzical smile. “What?”
Connie smiled back at him, her heart full. “Nothing. I’m just happy to be here.”
His eyes searched her face and his smile seemed tentative as he watched her. “Really? I’m happy to hear you say that.”
Something about his demeanor struck fear into her heart. “What’s wrong?”
He smiled and shook his head, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing. Everything’s good.”
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