The Witch of Little Italy

by Suzanne Palmieri

  Perhaps she stayed because George found her there during the summer so she got used to us, or perhaps (and this is what Mama believed) she was supposed to find us. It didn’t really matter, because that cat didn’t end up belonging to George. She belonged to Mama. And for a good five years she stayed put. She didn’t run away during our absence. Instead she grew prettier every year, and greeted us on the front porch weaving her orange striped fur through the railings.

  “But can’t you think of a better name than Cat?” Bunny asked.

  “Oh Bunny, I think it’s a grand name. Now we won’t ever get confused!”

  How Mama loved George. Her love showed me how to love him. And now that I think on it, perhaps that was the whole point. She showed me, through everything she did, how to act that way myself. Bunny was always too critical anyway.

  The summer Cat turned six a terrible thing happened. She died.

  But she didn’t die in a normal way. She didn’t get killed by the cars that were moving faster and thicker through the narrow streets of Far Rockaway. She didn’t get eaten up by a big, old dog. She contracted the rabies.

  I was playing sardines with George. It was his favorite game and my least favorite. And I was mad, because I didn’t want to play. We were too old, twelve at the time, and we were playing alone. It always took George an age to find me. I was standing between two bedspreads Mama had hanging on the line. I’d tried to find a spot so obvious that the game would be over quickly. My feet were clearly visible. But George didn’t notice and was already hunting around in the neighbor’s yard. I could hear him.

  The thing I noticed first was a low, grinding noise.

  Like labored breathing, asthma even, but not from a person. I looked toward the sound, peering down the narrow makeshift space created by the bedspreads. And there was Cat. At first I was relieved. Our orange beauty had been missing for a few days and Mama was beside herself. She’d grown so fond of that cat. And I knew I would be the one to bring her good news. The thought warmed my heart. The idea of Mama smiling still warms my heart to this day.

  Cat started to walk toward me but fell. Then she tried to get up but couldn’t. Suddenly, I knew it wouldn’t be good news I’d be bringing Mama, and that a smile was the last thing I should expect. Cat was sick. And my instincts told me not to try to scoop her up. My stomach urged me to run away, grab Georgie, and get Mama.

  And that’s exactly what I did.

  Over George’s whining about not finishing the game, I explained what happened to Mama who was at the sink washing dishes.

  “What do you mean Cat’s sick?” asked George.

  Mama grabbed us both by our wrists and took us into her bedroom. She closed both windows and told us to stay put. “I’m going to find the girls,” she said before shutting the door. I remember it got hot quick. So hot in such a short stretch of time.

  Mama was back quickly with Mimi and Fee.

  “But Mama,” Mimi complained. “I can help you, too! Why only Bunny?”

  “You just stay here and take care of your sisters and George. I have to do something no one needs to see. You hear me? If I could do it alone, I would.”

  Mama was shaking and there were tears in her eyes. That scared me more than seeing Cat all wobbly and foamy. It scared George, too. He started to cry. Mimi and Fee joined us and cuddled him. I felt sick to my stomach.

  Mama and Bunny were gone a long time. When the door opened Bunny came in alone. She opened the windows. We watched her for a moment or two, no one speaking. It was George who asked the question we didn’t want answered.

  “What happened, Bunny? Is Cat okay?”

  Bunny didn’t face us. She leaned against the windowsill and looked out, down the street toward the beach.

  “No,” she said. “Cat was sick and Mama had to…” Bunny’s voice changed and got thick. She cleared her throat. “Mama had to send Cat to heaven.”

  Even though I knew the moment I saw Cat that this was the likely outcome, a sadness rose in me and I began to cry. We were all crying.

  Mama called to us from the yard. “Come here, my darlings!”

  We went outside and found her standing over a small mound of newly turned earth. “Let’s hold hands and say good-bye to our beautiful Cat.”

  We made a circle around the small grave. I noticed one of the bedspreads was gone, and taking Mama’s hand … The Sight showed me what happened. Mama and Bunny folding the bedspread and then Mama telling Bunny to stay back, inserting her arms into the folds and picking up Cat. Wrapping it up tight and pressing out the air.

  “How could you?” I whispered.

  Mama knelt in front of me. She put her hands on my shoulders and began to gently stroke my arms. Shoulder to wrist.

  “Itsy, you must understand. I did what had to be done.”

  “But you loved her!” I said.

  “Yes, but she was sick. And if I let her, she could have hurt one of you. And I couldn’t let that happen. You hear me, Itsy girl? When we are given the gift of a way to stop harm before harm is done, we must try as best we can to save those we love. One bite from Cat and I could have lost you!”

  “But why you? Why not Papa or one of the boys? Or a neighbor?”

  Mama’s patience was wearing thin. She stood up and grabbed my hand again and Fee’s on her other side.

  “Do any of you see Papa here? Or the boys? Hmmmm?”

  “No, Mama,” we said.

  “That’s right. They’re not here. They’re still in the city … what a stunning surprise. And do you suppose I wanted to burden a neighbor with what was surely my own problem? Is that what we do? Do we let others take care of things?”

  “No, Mama,” we said.

  “Alright then. Now let’s go around in a circle and say something nice we remember about our lovely Cat. You start, George.”

  Mama listened patiently to all of us. But through all the eulogies she was squeezing my hand. I knew I hadn’t heard the last from her on that particular subject.

  * * *

  She woke me in the middle of the night. I knew she would.

  “Let’s sit on the porch and listen to the waves, Itsy,” she said.

  I followed her onto the porch, being sure not to let the screen door slam and wake the others. We sat, side by side, on the stairs.

  “I’m sorry if I disappointed you,” she said.

  I stared at the ground.

  “You must remember today. How you knew the animal was sick. You may find a sick animal again one day, and you’ll need to know what to do.”

  “I couldn’t, Mama. I could never!” I said.

  Mama turned my chin and made me look into her eyes. “Yes, you can, Itsy. You can and you will. When something is sick and dangerous you do what you have to do. Don’t leave it up to chance. I didn’t raise you to be squeamish or weak. You are strong. You are the strongest of them all, Itsy.”

  * * *

  I didn’t believe you, Mama. I went back to bed full of pride and forgiveness … my heart overflowing with love. But I didn’t believe you. And now that I’m standing here, caught in a never ending game of sardines … waiting for everyone to find me and unable to make a sound … I see the rabid cat in front of me again. And you were right. I know what I have to do, and I’ll do it.

  28

  Elly

  It was hot and Elly was huge. The summer stretched out into one long agonizing day after another. Each day she was sure the sun would never set. Uncle George’s apartment was now fully inhabited by Elly and Anthony. There was already a nursery set up, but even with the fans set on high, the apartment stifled her. She spent most of her time on the first floor in Mimi’s apartment drinking fresh lemonade poured over crushed ice. Mimi enjoyed spoiling Elly and Elly enjoyed being spoiled.

  It wasn’t just the heat that kept Elly on Mimi’s flowered sofa. It was the crying child. She knew it wanted to play. She’d tested it. As soon as Elly made chase, the giggling started. But it was getting harder to keep up with,
and Elly was expecting a baby of her own. It was like a mewling kitten you couldn’t kick out of the house. Elly would just be falling asleep when the crying—it was mostly crying again—started. And because she didn’t know the source, she couldn’t quiet the damn thing. It seemed to Elly that if she could only remember everything, fill in all the black spaces, that perhaps she’d be able to rid the building of its wailing, invisible tenant.

  It was that thought, more than anything else, that drove her to make the decision to find out all the secrets once and for all. She needed to find out what Itsy said to her all those years ago. So she’d asked Itsy. Again and again. A thousand different ways. But Itsy wouldn’t tell her anything. She’d gone all the way to Fairview and back, assaulting her aunts and grandmother with information about Faith and Ephraim to receive no answers, only some comments like “What a lovely trip!” and “Interesting, we never knew about that.”

  A likely story.

  Elly’d even tried the “Truth Tea,” a mixture of bluebells and sage from the garden that Mimi showed her how to make, on Itsy, but she was a sharp old hag. One taste and she fled into her own apartment and locked the doors.

  “How did you think she’d fall for that one? I thought you were smarter than that,” teased Mimi.

  “Oh shut your face,” said Elly, fat, hot, and frustrated.

  “Just go lay down and I’ll bring you a glass of lemonade. There’s a breeze coming in. A storm’s on the way. Rest your mind, Elly.”

  Instead Elly opened the freezer and leaned her head inside.

  “Close that freezer, missy. You want all the food to defrost?”

  “Why did you let her go?” asked Elly, not closing the door. The cold was too delicious.

  “Who?” asked Mimi, not turning her head from squeezing lemons in an old-fashioned glass juicer. Elly closed the freezer door and turned around to face her grandmother’s back. She knew Mimi was playing dumb because the lemons were getting an extra twist and turn.

  “You know who I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb with me, Mimi. My mother. Why did you let her go?”

  Mimi wiped her hands on her apron and turned around. Her eyes warned of an emotional line not to cross. “I didn’t let her do anything. She just went.”

  “But you didn’t try? You never called. Didn’t you miss her? I miss her. I could never let this baby leave me,” she caressed her belly.

  Mimi pointed a finger in Elly’s face. She was shaking. “Now you keep your judging to yourself. I had my reasons. Good ones. You don’t understand anything. That girl … your mother … she was predisposed to running. I knew she’d leave me. I saw it. And why should I try to stop her? It was already decided by the fates. What would you have me do? Throw some more love at a person who was going to leave?”

  “But you didn’t know that for sure, Mimi. I think these things, these visions, are more like chances than anything else. Warnings of things to come … not fact.” Elly was thinking about the blackness that washed over her when she tried to visualize a future with her baby. A chill went down her spine.

  Mimi turned back to the lemons. “Now you sound like Itsy. That’s the way she thinks. Go into the living room, okay? It’s too hot to dredge all this up. I’ll bring the lemonade to you like I said.”

  “Thanks, Mimi. Can you bring two glasses? I think Liz is coming over.”

  “Liz?”

  “Yes. My friend. Liz. Why do you always seem to forget about her, Mimi? You didn’t even set a place for her at my birthday!”

  “Don’t get worked up, Elly. She’s a quiet one is all. It will be nice to see her.”

  * * *

  Lying on the flowered couch—the soft, late August morning breeze Mimi promised disturbing the sheer curtains and teasing the house plants in front of the window—Elly felt sleepy and comfortable for the first time in days. The baby inside her, taking up most of her small frame, was sleeping, too. How quiet and lovely everything was all of a sudden. And then there it was. The crying.

  “Oh for the love of God! Please!”

  Mimi ran out of the kitchen with lemonade sloshing from two glasses. “What is it?”

  Elly was rocking back and forth with her hands over her ears. “The crying ghost baby!”

  Mimi sat down. “Interesting. I still don’t hear it.”

  “I know you don’t. No one does.”

  “Maybe it’s some sort of message just for you?”

  “You think?” Elly asked sarcastically.

  “Oh just drink your lemonade … a sour drink for a sour girl.” Mimi left, swatting Elly with a dish towel. Elly groaned.

  “What’s all this?” asked Liz from the doorway. Elly jumped.

  “You scared me!”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  The fan blew back Liz’s curls exposing her thin neck.

  “I swear, you’re going to disappear if you don’t start eating something. You make me feel fatter than necessary,” said Elly.

  “Whatever, hey. I have an idea. Let’s go to the feast.”

  “But the feast doesn’t start until tonight, right?”

  “Not necessarily. They’re setting up now, and I think it’s almost time for them to bring the statue out of the church.”

  Elly closed her eyes and heard the loud sound of a low trombone, almost out of tune and then joined by somber drums.

  * * *

  “Look, Babygirl, here she comes!” said Uncle George, hoisting up her little girl body onto his old man shoulders.

  “You’ll kill yourself, Georgie!” yelled Fee.

  “Oh shut your fat face and mind your own beeswax, Fee.” George and Babygirl laughed so hard. Babygirl could feel his giggles all the way up her spine.

  The saint came down the stairs, the handsome boys held her on long wooden rods. The small parade, led by the serious looking priest reading from the Bible and the band right behind.

  “Where are they taking her?”

  “To the stage at the end of the street. Then later tonight we can pin money on her for luck!”

  Mimi and Itsy pulled Babygirl down from George’s shoulders, tsking about the weight and his back.

  Babygirl linked her pinky with his and pulled on his sleeve. She whispered in his ear when he leaned down, “Pay no attention to them, Georgie, I know you are strong enough to carry me. You’re strong enough to do anything.”

  George smiled and kissed her cheek. “Let’s go see if the fried dough stand is open, I want some zeppoli!”

  “What’s a zeppoli?”

  “Oh you poor deprived child!” exclaimed Aunt Fee. “A fried ball of goodness with some powdered sugar on top.…”

  * * *

  “Let’s,” said Elly to Liz. “Maybe the fried dough stand has some zeppoli ready. Fatten you up.”

  “You sure are part of this now, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “You seem so comfortable.”

  “Well, I’m not. I’m fat and hot and uncomfortable all the time.”

  “No … comfortable in here,” Liz patted Elly on the forehead.

  “I guess I am,” Elly smiled. She felt like a moving part of the neighborhood, of her aunts, of her foundling memories. So sure of herself here. As the realization surfaced the whimpering started from the walls. “Dear sweet Jesus get me out of here!”

  “The crying again?”

  “Yes, my own personal bit of insanity. Call me an Amore for sure.”

  “Let’s hit the feast.”

  “You sure I look okay like this?” Elly was wearing a sundress stretched tight against her stomach and short.

  “You look cute. And a little sexy, too! For anyone who might be attracted to pregnant girls.”

  Liz helped Elly off the couch, the two laughing at her awkward belly. Elly slipped on a pair of flip-flops, the only pair of shoes that would fit her swollen feet, and they left the building. The same flip-flops that would be floating off the beaches of Far Rockaway when the moon rose high in the sky that ver
y same night.

  * * *

  The hot summer air drifted slowly through the streets, heavy with the perfume of a city at play. The smell of loamy, green earth near the giant trees whose roots lifted up the cement sidewalks into kaleidoscope cracks. The burning dough and bubbling garlicky sauces of baking pizza. The oils and incenses of the street vendors. The scent of the people crowding the streets early, seeking a refuge from the heat just like Elly and Liz.

  The two girls found a bench near the church and watched the procession of the saint.

  “I watched this from Uncle Georgie’s shoulders when I was little. Do you know how much I like saying things like that?”

  “Yeah, it’s nice to have a history. A point of reference for everything else.”

  “I want an ice. I think that stand is open,” said Elly, pointing to a white truck set up with an aluminum awning. “Want one?”

  Liz looked positively translucent. “No thanks, I’m going to have to go home soon anyway to…” her voice trailed off to a whisper.

  “What? I didn’t hear you?”

  “Have to take a rest or something. Just so tired, you know?”

  “Wait until I get back, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Elly stood in the line for an Italian ice. She thought she’d get lemon, but the vanilla looked too good walking away with other customers. It had nuts in it. Once, Elly looked back at Liz and waved. But she didn’t wave back. When Elly turned around—happily licking the vanilla ice—to walk toward the bench, it was empty. Liz was gone.

  A sick feeling washed over Elly. A sadness she didn’t understand that got caught in her chest.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Anthony came up behind her. “You look lost,” he laughed. Elly looked around. It was evening all of a sudden and her ice was a sticky pool in the paper cup, some dripping down her hands.

  “Here, let me help you, babe,” said Anthony, walking her over to a hot dog vender.

  “Leo, lemme have some of your napkins, huh?”

  A young man about Anthony’s age dipped a huge handful of napkins into the tub of ice water cooling the sodas. “Want a soda or a dog, you guys? On the house? She okay, Tony? She looks sick.”