by Nancy Roman
I returned with my composure - and my determination - restored.
Mrs. Longo was seated on the sofa in the parlor with Annie on her lap. The baby was sucking on a large wooden spoon.
“She’s getting a tooth,” said Mrs. Longo.
I looked at my daughter, whose very existence had been peripheral to my life for several weeks now. She held the spoon out to show me her great toy.
“I need to do better,” I said.
“Nonsense. Your baby is fat and healthy and very happy. You are doing a damn fine job!”
I sat next to the woman, and she put Annie on my lap. The baby immediately turned her head towards my breast.
“Can I ask you something embarrassing?” I said.
“Nothing is embarrassing to a lady who’s had this many kids.”
“Will it hurt? When I nurse her, I mean… with teeth? ”
Millie Longo laughed. “Hell, yes! But Annie will try to be gentle with you. And you can start weaning her off your tit. Don’t feel bad about it. Kids grow up. It’s a good thing. You’ll sleep better and you’ll need it. She‘ll be crawling in just a few weeks. Then you are in for a hell of a time.”
From the bedroom, I heard Mr. Longo weaving some kind of tale in Italian. Frank gave a short reply, and I heard him laugh. Frank laughed! And Mr. Longo burst forth with a booming laugh and continued his story.
“What are they talking about?” I asked.
Millie listened for a few moments.
“They are discussing the technique of a certain very limber prostitute!” And she threw back her head and roared.
CHAPTER 58
The next morning was the warm, fine day I had been hoping for. With difficulty, I got Frank on the bed on the porch. It was the first of October, and the angle of the sun did not fall onto the bed as I wished, but it was light and the air was fresh.
Frank was in much pain, so I gave him three pills. He calmed after a short while.
“Where is your hand?” he asked.
I sat on the bed and nursed Annie, holding Frank’s hand. When the baby was satisfied, I took his hand and showed him the little bump of her tooth.
“She’s getting big,” I said.
“What is her name?” he asked.
“Annie Sullivan Giametti,” I answered.
Annie fell asleep, and I set her on a blanket on the floor. I took off my clothes and laid down with Frank. He instinctively put his arms around me and it felt good.
“Do you hear the seagulls?” he asked. “How I love that sound. There must be dozens of them.”
I listened to the continued quiet.
“I scattered bread for them, so they would visit,” I lied.
“The church bells too. Did you order them up?”
“Yes. I did.”
“I’m glad the wolves are gone,” he said.
Later, I rose and dressed. I hugged my baby and she pulled my hair and laughed. Then I set her on the floor with the wooden spoon, and picked up the violin.
I played. I played the three songs that Frank had taught me. Fur Elise and Ave Maria and After The Ball. I played them over and over. I did not stop for wrong notes. There was no need to fix mistakes. There was only music if you stayed with the rhythm.
I laid the violin next to Frank. With Annie in a shawl on my hip, I walked along the beach and then made my way to the market.
“Frank has died,” I said.
CHAPTER 59
Arrangements were made. I sent a telegram to Ohio.
Frank passed October 1. All is well. No need to come.
I spent the next few days cleaning the cottage. I scrubbed the floors, the walls. I shined the pots. I washed windows.
The weather was cool, but I bundled Annie and we walked on the beach. We walked for miles. I had never seen so many seagulls.
Constance came and we had a small funeral. Just Annie and I, Constance and Sadie, and Vincent and Millie Longo. And the young boy who had brought our groceries.
Constance had her car take us back to New Haven. She wanted us to stay with her, at least for a few days - “Or as long as you wish” - but I was anxious to go on. So we spent one day only. Constance watched Annie for a few hours so that I could make a trip to the bank. I withdrew the remainder of my nest egg. Constance forged Martin’s signature. That evening, Constance cut my hair, which had grown quite long, but I would keep it short now forever. Sadie played on the floor with Annie, encouraging her to roll over, and Annie obliged.
“Can we have a puppy, Mama?” asked Sadie, and I couldn’t help but laugh - the similarities were certainly obvious.
In the morning, we took Sadie off to school.
“I love school,” Sadie said. “I learn like a boy!”
“You learn like a girl!” said Constance, “which is ever so much better, because you can do everything boys do, and have babies too.”
The little girl hugged us both and ran into the school.
“That was kind, but perhaps not completely true,” I said to Constance. “Women can’t do everything men do. We can have our babies, and we can love them, but we can’t support them. I can’t go to college now. It’s hard enough for a woman to be accepted. And now I am a widow with a baby.”
“Martin and Sofia will help you,” she said.
I nodded. “I know. But… well, I know it’s selfish and foolish… but how I wish I could do it by myself.”
Constance took me by the shoulders and spun me around to face her. On my hip, Annie laughed at the sudden dance.
“You are not selfish!” Constance exclaimed. “And we could all use more foolishness! You wish you could do something ‘by yourself’? Mother of God, Lucinda, you are nineteen years old and you have done more things by yourself than most men and women could ever dream of!”
We went back to the house for my belongings and walked slowly and silently to the train station. We passed a different school, not Sadie’s, a school with dark-skinned children in the yard. Skipping rope. Running. Shouting. Laughing. Being children.
“Do you know,” said Constance as she stopped to throw back a wayward ball to a small boy, “that there are schools so poor and so in need that they often hire teachers who have not even been to college?”
We walked on to the station. She handed me the suitcase she had carried for me.
“You are my best friend, Lucinda,” said Constance. “Never let anyone judge you. Do what you believe is right. If you want something, try. If you’re not happy, stop. That’s all there is.” She embraced me and kissed me. “And if you need to breathe a little slower, come back anytime.”
I watched her walk out of the station, with her head high. Men all turned. Women looked too. They looked because she had the life that they all wanted and were afraid to pursue. She had freedom.
She turned back and yelled to me in the most unladylike way, “Vote for women!”
I approached the ticket counter. I had one small valise, a violin, and a seven-month-old baby.
The ticketmaster said, “Where to, Miss?”
I hesitated.
Martin and Sofia and the children were waiting for me in Ohio. My sister Catherine had told me years ago to follow my heart. ‘Be light,’ she had said. Constance believed with her own heart that you should discover what you want and never allow anyone to stop you.
“Come on, miss, there are folks waiting. Where to?”
“Boston,” I said.
I took my seat on the train, with Annie on my lap, facing me. She smiled.
“We are going to see a man who wants to buy a very good violin,” I said.
The violin was precious, but it could provide for something more precious. For me. For Annie. And for the infant Francis who nestled safely inside me.
/> Thank you, Frank, for everything precious.
About The Author:
Nancy Roman is the author of JUST WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED, available on Amazon. She writes weekly about aging, kindness, and living a happy life on her popular blog, notquiteold.com.
Nancy lives in Connecticut with her loving husband, four mysterious cats, and one disobedient but adorable dog.
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