“How are you? Can I get you anything?” Celeste asked.
“No thank you,” Lita said. She sat near Uncle Enzo.
“I think we may have forgotten we’re having everyone over later for your birthday party and to say goodbye to Gianni. Do you want me to ask Sophia to have it at her house instead?”
“No. I’m sorry, I’d forgotten. I want to, for Gianni. The family shouldn’t have to be affected by my problems.”
“You mean Lorenzo’s,” Uncle Enzo said. “Are there things you haven’t told us, my dear? You shouldn’t have to put up with his behavior alone. I won’t see you suffer, like Annamaria did.”
“Enzo! You of all people should be more understanding of Lorenzo. We all know he is not his father. Perhaps if you spoke to him, truthfully, about your own marriage, he might be helped. Surely you want him to know his child?” Celeste said.
Uncle Enzo nodded and left the room. Lita glanced at Celeste and rubbed her hand across the table, the same table she’d sat at with Lorenzo the night he proposed. She cradled her head on her arms and closed her eyes.
“Lita, I know Lorenzo has said hurtful things, you both have. But I don’t believe he meant what you thought he did, about the baby.” Celeste sat next to her and patted her hand.
Lita knew she was probably right, but she was so tired.
“We will support you, whatever you choose, but remember, many marriages have recovered from worse trials: Enzo’s and my son Frank’s, for example. That is the miracle of love, of forgiveness. Now, do you want to bake with me, or would you rather rest? Sophia will be over in a few hours to help with dinner.”
“I’d like to, but I should shower first.”
Celeste nodded and Lita went upstairs, feeling heavy and exhausted, hearing all the whisperings of her own failures, the excuses she made for Lorenzo every time.
Undressing for her shower, she noticed some light spotting and her stomach dropped. She told herself over and over it was normal. She’d read a lot of pregnancy and baby books already. Still, as she stood letting the steamy water patter against her, she began to shake. She couldn’t cry anymore, for she felt dry as a desert wind inside. Turning, she let the water rinse her face for a moment before inhaling deeply as she washed.
If only Lorenzo would hear her, would know, as he had before, her need. Even when he hurt her with his flirting, his entanglements, when he would hold her, sometimes all night, she calmed, as if Lorenzo’s arms snug around her would keep her safe, as if his soft words would erase their problems. They did, too, for a while, but something always happened again. Each time her sense of herself and faith in him peeled away, like stripping layer after layer of old wallpaper. Eventually they’d both be bare drywall, nothing to protect them, so ruined nothing could be salvaged.
“I’m sorry,” Lita murmured to Sophia and Celeste a few hours later as they surveyed the pan of charred meatballs Lita had tended. The acrid smell made Lita swallow, her stomach cramped.
“It’s okay, honey,” Sophia said. She took the pan from her and placed it in the sink. “I know you usually bake yours. Why don’t you relax for a bit? Maybe go see how Carlo, my dad, and Lorenzo are doing?”
Lita shook her head. She couldn’t see Lorenzo yet. “I’ll do the lettuce for the salad.”
Lita cleaned out the sink as Celeste and Sophia went on with their cheerful exchange. Those two never ran out of things to talk about, from the latest wedding to children to neighborhood news. Usually Lita listened more carefully but now she let their words surround her, cocooning her in their domestic normalcy.
Lita sat through dinner, tried to smile and listen, forced herself to eat, her limbs aching and heavy. Tired of Lorenzo’s problems, tired of needing him, tired of pretending to be okay. Her ability to fake being happy disturbed her. It had before her engagement; it did now, when she and Lorenzo had troubles. She glanced at him. He didn’t try, he brooded, but everyone was used to his moods, so they ignored him. She touched her necklace, the heart he’d given her what seemed a lifetime ago. The weight of it crushed her.
Lee eyed her suspiciously. He must be concerned. But after dinner she managed to avoid talking to anyone by busying herself in the kitchen and then sneaking into Uncle Enzo’s study. She looked around the still, darkened room and clicked on the desk lamp, which shed a yellow glow out around the wide old desk. A green leather blotter sat in the middle, a pen tray, a phone. So orderly, like Lorenzo’s home office upstairs. They were a lot alike, Lorenzo and his uncle.
She wanted to talk to Lorenzo, to say she was sorry for the hurt between them. She opened the door, stepping back when she saw Gianni standing there.
“I wanted to talk to you before I leave,” he said.
Lita nodded and moved back into the room. They stood just inside the door. Talk and laughter came from the living room.
“Will you be okay? I’m sorry about last night.”
“Thanks, Gianni, but it wasn’t your fault. It was nice of you to drive him home.”
“He’s my cousin, I love him. I love you.”
The way he said it, Lita understood why Lorenzo became so jealous. Why couldn’t Lorenzo say he loved her like that, so easily? He hardly ever told her anymore, except when they made love. A tear escaped. Guilt prickled her, like the thorns on a cactus, for comparing him to Gianni, wondering again if she had somehow caused Gianni’s feelings for her.
“Don’t cry, please,” Gianni said, wiping her tear with his fingertips. “You and Lorenzo had a fight last night, didn’t you?”
He still caressed her face, touched her hair. She shouldn’t let him, but her arms were too heavy to move to stop him.
“Yes, I’m pregnant but I don’t think he wants the baby,” she whispered as he leaned in to hear her.
Lita stepped back at a yell, almost a growl, low and territorial, like a dog guarding his turf. Lorenzo shoved in and pushed Gianni into the desk. Lita screamed as best she could as her throat strangled. Footsteps, scuffling and loud, echoed before the click of the overhead light as Lorenzo shouted at Gianni.
“Don’t touch her! Thought you’d get something before you leave?”
“Get off!” Gianni swung at him. “She’s upset, you asshole!”
Lorenzo punched him, right in the face. Lita screamed again as blood trickled from Gianni’s nose. Not again, not Gianni. The room became close, Pete and Carlo grabbed Lorenzo, pulling him into the hall as Joe whispered to Gianni. Lita saw Joanna take her hand, while Sophia stood in front of her, trying to speak, but Lita couldn’t hear anything except all the shouting. She followed Sophia into the foyer, where Lorenzo struggled against Pete and Carlo. She shivered, she wanted a blanket. Sophia hugged her.
“Why are you blaming me?” Lorenzo shouted. “He tried to kiss my wife!”
“I was trying to help her,” Gianni yelled. “Put your energy into not kissing other women!”
Lita’s body trembled, heat stole through her. Everyone would know. Just when she thought she and Lorenzo were past all that, the family would bring it all up again. She glanced around, the family watched, movements slowed as cars did so the driver could gawk at an accident. Lee’s face went red as he came over to Lorenzo.
“What’s Gianni talking about? Have you cheated?”
“You kissed another woman again,” Pete cried out. “You promised it wouldn’t happen again.”
“It didn’t.” Lorenzo’s eyes pleaded with her.
Pete dropped his hold on Lorenzo as he shook his head, his face twisted in disgust. Lita couldn’t comprehend what he said, the pain in her forehead tight and piercing.
“How many times?” Carlo shouted into Lorenzo’s ear as he wrenched his arm up.
Lita clutched her arms, looking from face to face, seeing the family, her family, fracturing in front of her. Some whispered, frowning and shaking their heads, others glanced at her with pity. Lita shut her eyes then forced herself to see.
“Let go of him, Carlo,” Nick said in a strained voice.
>
“I think we all want to hear the answer,” Lee said. His voice emulated calm, but Lita knew better.
Lorenzo faced him, rubbing his wrist. “That’s between Lita and me.”
“The hell it is,” Lee said. “She’s my baby sister.”
“Lee…” Janetta said.
“No, Janetta, not this time. I held Lita the day she was born, you know that? I fed her, rocked her to sleep. I walked her to kindergarten, made sure she had her homework done, gave her an allowance so she could buy herself pretty clothes, paid her tuition in high school.” Lee turned on Lorenzo. “I should never have stayed friends with you. If you’d been anyone else, I’d have gotten her away from you. Lita, sweetie, you don’t need to stay with him. He’s cheated on you, you deserve better.” Lee approached her, his tone soft yet firm.
“I didn’t cheat, I’ve just kissed--”
“That is cheating!” Carlo broke in.
So many people tried to talk at once, Lita couldn’t follow anyone.
“Lita won’t leave me. She’s having our baby,” Lorenzo said.
Lita shivered. “You don’t want our baby, admit it! You only wanted me, not marriage, not babies. You should have taken me to bed in the beginning. You know you could have. It would’ve been kinder.” Lita’s shout turned to a whisper as she clung to Sophia.
The family stood between her and Lorenzo. He pushed at Lee and Nick and Carlo, trying to get to her. His eyes, his deep, wounded eyes, reached her. She dissolved in warmth and love.
“No! I want you, I want our baby! Get off, I need to show her.”
Sophia and Janetta pulled Carlo and Lee aside. Lorenzo came to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her with him. She couldn’t keep up as he went up the stairs. She stumbled. He stopped, waiting for her to walk beside him. Lee, Carlo, Nick, and Sophia followed, while the others milled around in the foyer or watched them as they turned to go up the landing.
“I spent all day printing things out,” Lorenzo said when they reached the door of the small room next to theirs.
He opened the door, led her inside. Pictures covered the walls, a rocking chair with the arms worn smooth placed in one corner.
“I found the chair in the attic.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lita said as she finished walking around, gazing at the images of cribs, dressers, changing tables, blankets, bookshelves, lamps, murals, all for a baby’s room, for their baby’s room.
“I tried. I remember. I know now,” he said.
Lita caressed her stomach and frowned. Cramping, something seeped out of her, warm on her thigh. She ran, pushed past Lee and Nick, into her bathroom, locked the door. The red blossomed on her clothes, in the water. Her baby was in that water, so tiny, somewhere in the crimson clots. He was gone.
“No. No,” she whispered.
Pounds on the door assaulted her, Lorenzo yelled her name.
She stood, shaking. “I need Sophia,” she called.
28
Sophia waited behind him. She motioned Lorenzo out and he went, into the hall with Carlo, where Nick and Lee stood in hushed conversation. Nick gestured and frowned--disappointed, worried--while Lee’s face reddened, nostrils flaring, furious. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Lee so mad.
“I can’t be around you right now,” Lee said before turning to Nick. “Let me know if Lita needs me, okay? I’ll be downstairs having a talk with Gianni. No offense to you, Carlo, but sometimes I wish we’d never met any of you,” Lee finished.
Carlo patted Lee’s back and bent his infamous stare on Lorenzo. “I’ll never understand you. You have everything and you keep trying to throw it away. Just when we all get comfortable, when we breathe easy again, you pull some crap. You two have been together a year now, a year you’ve dragged us all on this roller coaster. We want off, it has to stop. Maybe we should stop and kick you off.”
Lorenzo stood tall. He could change. He would be the man Lita needed, the man he should be.
“He’s trying,” Nick said. “You know that, Carlo.”
“Don’t, Dad. He’s right. It’s my fault.”
“I’m not trying to excuse your bad behavior, but I know you can work things out. Lita needs you, don’t forget that,” Nick said.
“I know.”
“You’d never put up with this from anyone else,” Carlo said to Nick.
Sophia came out. “Lorenzo.”
He only saw Lita. Tears streaked her cheeks, pale pink like the pajamas she wore.
“I want to see the baby’s room again,” she told him.
He smiled, but stopped as he glanced at Sophia, who shook her head. “Maybe…” he began, but Lita took his hand and her brow crinkled, her face pale. His throat tightened to see her this way. They went back in. He showed her everything: the chair, the pictures, the ideas for murals. Showed her the catalog where he’d marked pages: cribs, dressers, toys, blankets. She rocked in the chair. Her eyes closed, calm now, like when she’d held a baby cousin of Joanna’s at Sunday dinner last week. She abruptly stopped and looked at him.
“I wish you’d showed me before.”
“I tried, you avoided me all day.”
“Thank you,” she said as she rose and hugged him.
He couldn’t speak. He was too confused and raw. He pressed her closer, his arms rested on her diminutive back. He wished for the power to draw her pain away with his hands.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a few minutes.
She glanced up at him, more tears welled. “No, the baby’s gone.” She leaned into his chest and sobbed. He turned to Sophia, who wiped away a few tears.
“Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?” he said, stilling his own panic. He had to be the man Lita deserved.
“No, there’s nothing to be done. I’ve been through this before. These things happen sometimes. She’s not far along. She hasn’t even seen a doctor yet. She should call on Monday. They’ll probably want her to do another blood test. That will confirm it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, as much as I can be.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t take her…”
“Yes, she should rest, call the doctor in the morning, or tonight if it gets worse or there’s any pain. Do you want us to stay?”
“No, I’ll take care of her.”
“Well, okay. Celeste can help if you need her. We’ll take care of things downstairs.”
“Thanks,” he said. He took Lita’s hand and led her into their room. Nick had said goodnight, they were alone. He held her, sitting on their bed, held her as she cried and cried. Then Lee interrupted, asking Lita if she needed him, if she wanted him to stay.
“No, thanks, I have Lorenzo. You go home with Janetta,” she said, wiping her cheeks, trying to smile. Lorenzo caressed her face before he turned to Lee.
“I…okay.” Lee shot Lorenzo a frown as Lita snuggled into Lorenzo’s chest. “I need to talk to you, but it can wait, I guess. We’ll be back tomorrow.” Lorenzo nodded. “Take care, Lita. We love you.”
She looked up at her brother and gave him a tiny smile. Lorenzo kissed her hand. She was so brave, his wife, his angel.
“I love you too.”
They were alone again. He got changed, ready for bed, as Lita went into the bathroom. She cried more. He guessed seeing the evidence of her miscarriage only made it that much more painful.
“I love you,” he said. “I did want our baby. You’ll be the best mother,” he whispered before he kissed her. He held her to him, his shirt damp, his face damp too. He wouldn’t say he was sorry again, not now. He knew she wanted him to hold her. Words couldn’t help her, but he could. Maybe that was why she asked him to stay when they argued, maybe she needed him to hold her; he left instead of staying for her.
As Lita fell asleep on him, he sighed. Things might be okay, if she could forgive him again, if everyone would forgive him yet again. Lita hadn’t mentioned the other women but he knew, once the first of her grief passed, she would remember. He let other
women kiss him, a time or two he had kissed back. Granted, he could try to say the women started it, but he knew that was a false justification, an excuse for the inexcusable. Yet he loved Lita, he couldn’t let her go. He wished, for her sake, he had stayed away forever, in the beginning, but it was too late now. She’d told him once, after their first big argument, he would never be free of her, no matter what he did, and she was right. He only hoped she wouldn’t want to be free of him.
He held Lita all night. Each time she clung to him, hope filled him, letting him breathe deeper, more freely. He fingered the necklace he’d given her last Christmas. They would make it through this. Forgiveness and love pervaded her essence, she wouldn’t leave.
He got her breakfast while she showered. As she ate, he noticed an odd gleam in her eyes, but he thought it must be her grieving for the baby. He didn’t say anything. Carlo warned him last night when he and Sophia came up after Lita slept not to say anything except he was sorry or he might say something stupid or hurtful. Lorenzo smiled, remembering Sophia pushing Carlo, like Janetta did to Lorenzo when he annoyed her. They’d be over later with Lee. He knew Lee hated him now, almost everyone who witnessed last night would: Janice, Gianni, Pete, Joanna, Carlo, Joe, all the D’Angelos. Maybe Uncle Enzo, Celeste, Nick, Janetta, and Sophia would support him. None of it mattered, though, as long as Lita stayed, as long as she loved him.
Lee and Janetta arrived first, followed a few minutes later by Sophia and Carlo. He hoped Nick would show, but Lee wouldn’t wait. As soon as Celeste and Sophia brought in a tray of coffee and cookies, he started his attack.
“This is it, Lorenzo,” Lee said, leaning forward on the sofa he sat on with Carlo and Uncle Enzo. Lorenzo looked at Lita, who sat between him and Celeste while Janetta, as usual, separated herself as she sat on a chair in the far corner. “I want the truth.”
“I know you’re her brother, Lee, but you’re not a third person in my marriage. I believe Lita forgives me.”
“Do you, sweetie? Don’t you want to know what he’s been doing?” Lee said.
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