It seemed to Lily that if Alexander just got out of the box, and the Holy Ghost just got done dissolving his splotches, he shouldn’t come out here and make more of them by saying the “a” word – especially right in front of Jesus, who had already suffered enough.
“What did you say?” asked John.
“I walked right in there, I knelt down and I said, ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been one week since my last confession. These are my sins: I had lustful thoughts and then whacked off every day.”
John let out a yelp, and then he crouched down behind the pew, his body shaking with stifled laughter.
“Oh, man – what did the old man say?”
“He said, ‘Masturbated. I had lustful thoughts and I masturbated every day.’”
“So I said to him, ‘Wow - you too, Father?’”
By that point, John was on the floor between the pew and the kneeler, fat tears rolling down his red cheeks.
“So he said to me, ‘No, young man, I am instructing you to use the term ‘masturbate’ rather than saying ‘whacked off.’ Then he said something about character and humility - who knows what the hell he was saying?”
“I can’t believe you got him to say ‘whacked off,’ John said, sitting up. John noticed Lily watching them, and he reached over and snatched the collection envelope from her hand.
“Whatcha got there, Lily of the Valley?”
“John-” protested Lily. “Give it back.”
“You’re not supposed to write on these, you know – you’re supposed to put money in them. You could get in big trouble for this.”
Lily’s eyes widened and she looked to Jesus, as if hoping for a revelation that writing a message to him on a collection envelope wasn’t causing Him more suffering.
“You better cut it out or when you have your first confession, you’re never gonna get outta there.” John flipped the envelope toward Lily like a losing blackjack dealer. It landed under the pew so Lily had to climb under to retrieve it. She shoved the envelope into the back pocket of her pedal pushers, with plans to place it in the public garbage can on the way home so no one would ever be able to connect her to the crime.
John turned to Alexander, “So what’s your penance?”
“I have to say one Our Father and one Hail Mary for each time, but I’m going to say at least ten, ‘cause I’m saving up for next week.”
At that, both boys burst into laughter and one of the little doors opened. Father Connor’s white head emerged. He scowled and put a “shhh” finger to his mouth. John and Alexander snapped to Catholic attention with their knees to the kneeler pad, their folded hands at their chests, and their heads bowed. As soon as the little door closed again, they sidled down the pew, stopping quickly to genuflect before turning and running down the aisle. They pushed the door open and burst out into the sunshine.
Every once in a while on Saturday nights, Lily’s mother and father would go to Auntie Rosa’s for pie and coffee. When they did, Jasmine was in charge, and if the kids were lucky, she would make a pan of fudge, or pop up a big bowl of popcorn. Lily loved just about anything made out of chocolate, so when she heard that Jasmine was babysitting, she rushed to get her order in.
“Jasmine, can you make fudge tonight?” Lily jumped up and down in place, shaking her hands like they were on fire. “Can-you-can-you-can-you-can-you plllleeeassse?” In a contest between fudge and popcorn, fudge was the easy winner, even though it took longer. In fact, you had to wait so darn long for the fudge to cool and get hard, that Lily found it practically unbearable. And the creamy chocolaty yumminess was all the sweeter for the waiting.
“Have you been a good girl?” Jasmine teased Lily. “Have you been helping Mommy with the three little boys?”
“Yes, yes – I have!” spurted Lily. “Just yesterday, I watched Ricci while Mommy paid Roy for the milk.”
“And have you been saying your prayers?”
“Oh, yes, Jasmine – every night. And sometimes even in the daytime, too!” Lily didn’t tell her she was saying extra prayers, just in case she should die before being old enough for confession.
“Well,” said Jasmine, placing her index finger to her chin and looking up as if she were thinking about it. “OK – I guess you deserve fudge.”
With that, Lily threw her body against Jasmine’s, wrapping both arms around Jasmine’s leg.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jasmine reached down and tickled Lily’s ribs until she laughed so hard that she had to let go. Getting tickled by Jasmine was fun. It was much better than when Alexander played his tickle torture game. Even though Lily laughed every time, it just didn’t feel like being tickled. Every time, she would try not to laugh. She would try to hold it in, or think of the suffering of Our Beloved Savior to try and get sad, but she just couldn’t stop the laughing. And even though she would tell her brother to stop, he wouldn’t. You could say “no” all you wanted during tickle torture, but if you didn’t like it, you wouldn’t laugh.
But with Alexander and John heading over to Bony Murphy’s house for a boy-girl party, there would be no tickle torture tonight. Lawrence Welk would be on TV and Lily may even get two pieces of fudge.
As soon as her parents pulled out of the driveway, Lily headed for the stairs, to make the prerequisite change into her pajamas. Fourteen steps. One for each Capotosti. She always recited their names as she climbed: Mommy, Daddy, Alexander, John, Jasmine, Violet, Marguerite, Henry, Louis, Iris, Lily, William, Charles, Richard.
Lily shared a bedroom with her sisters. Jasmine had a single bed in the corner, Violet and Marguerite slept in the double by the window, and Lily and Iris slept in the bunk bed, with Lily on the bottom. She didn’t mind being on the bottom bunk. Having Iris hanging over her made her feel safe. The underside of the upper bed frame was a grid of rectangular springs and Lily would poke at them with her fingers when she needed to get Iris’ attention. Iris was like that princess in the story who couldn’t fall asleep because there was a pea under her mattress – unlike Lily who could fall asleep under almost any conditions – crying babies, teenage brothers chasing each other up and down the stairs, teenage sisters giggling into the wee hours.
It was also fun to lie in bed on her back, place the soles of her feet on the bottom of Iris’ mattress, and bounce Iris up and down. Sometimes Iris got angry, but mostly she laughed. Once in a while, Lily would think about what it might be like if Iris’ mattress broke through and fell on top of her. One minute, laughing and having fun, the next minute mashed like a potato. If it did happen, Lily hoped all the sisters would be there. Between the four of them, they would be able to save her. They would lift Iris’ bed off of her and she would have little rectangle marks all over her body, but they would go away in time. Such an accident might even earn Lily an extra piece of fudge, but she wasn’t sure if it was worth it or not. It would depend on how much having the mattress fall on her would hurt.
Lily crossed her arms at her waist, grabbed the tail of her shirt with both hands, and in one smooth motion whisked it off, turning it inside out and dropping it on the floor next to her bed. She lowered her pants to the floor and pulled her feet out one by one, using each foot to free the other. Just as she was reaching under her pillow for her nightie, the bedroom door closed. Lily jumped.
“Lily of the Valley,” said Violet. “You should keep the door closed whenever any of us is in here getting undressed, OK?”
“OK, Violet,” said Lily, pulling her nightgown over her head. “I’m sorry.” It was difficult for Lily to keep track of the rules she knew but forgot to obey, as opposed to the things that she just didn’t know. So she simply apologized for everything, just in case.
“Don’t apologize, silly goose,” chided Violet. “Just remember it.”
Lily watched as Violet crossed over to the dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out her nightgown. Violet studied her own face in the mirror as she unbuttoned her white cotton blouse. Pausing, she placed her
index finger at the end of her nose, making various faces into the mirror as she pressed against her nose, making it wider, pushing the tip of it up, or down. Lily was still fumbling with her nightgown, working to bring the side with the label round back, the side with the ribbons round front, and get her hands into the arm holes.
“What are you grinning at?” asked Violet, looking at Lily in the mirror.
“You’re making funny faces!” Lily giggled as her nightgown fell into place. She pattered across the room and out the door.
“Lily!” Violet called after her. “The door!”
“Sorry!” called Lily from halfway down the stairs.
The kitchen counter was staged for fudge: Baker’s chocolate, corn syrup, sugar, and evaporated milk, which – even though it came in a little can with a picture of a cow on it - was store-bought and did not come from Roy’s truck. Lily’s father put evaporated milk in his coffee, and Jasmine used it to make fudge. Lily once took a sip from a can that she found in the Frigidaire. After all, life would be a lot easier if she could drink evaporated milk instead of regular milk – but she ran to the sink and spit it out. She then added evaporated milk to her list of things that sounded good, but tasted awful. Like baker’s chocolate. She once scaled the counter and broke off a square to nibble on. It tasted like dirt, or poop. How could something so vile be part of something so delicious as fudge?
Lily climbed the kitchen stepladder and sat on the top so she could get a good view of Jasmine putting the ingredients into the bowl and mixing it all up. When it was time to grease the pan, Jasmine wrapped Lily’s hand in wax paper, and placed a glob of butter at her fingertips. With the care of an artist, Lily coated the bottom and sides of the pan with the butter, making sure to get into the corners and to not leave any clumps.
“Now, we wait,” announced Jasmine.
Bobby and Cissy had to be the two most beautiful people in the whole world. Cissy looked a lot like Jasmine, except she had sparkly dresses, and a perfect little bow in her blond hair. Dancing and singing on The Lawrence Welk Show was just about the greatest thing you could do – you got to wear beautiful things every Saturday, and you would just be smiling all the time.
“Take Sominex tonight and sleep… safe and restful sleep, sleep, sleep.” As soon as the commercial came on, Lily jumped up and ran into the kitchen to check on the fudge. Jasmine and Violet were playing cards at the table.
“War!” shouted Violet.
Each of the girls placed two more cards face down, and one face up. Jasmine’s facing card was a three of spades. Violet’s was a Jack of Hearts.
“Take that!” Violet jumped up from the table, and did a little victory dance before capturing Jasmine’s cards into her pile.
“Geez, Louise,” said Jasmine. “You act like you just won a million dollars or something. And no, little one,” she added, turning to Lily, “the fudge is not ready yet. You’ve been in here three times already!”
“Holy crap!” shouted Louis from the living room. “It’s a bat!”
Jasmine, Violet and Lily ran into the living room to find Iris and Marguerite huddled together on the floor, forming a sister tent over William, who was startled and crying. Henry sat in his favorite chair in the corner, his attention trained on the chords he strummed out on his guitar. Louis was running around the living room, flailing a small couch pillow overhead, throwing his entire body into the task as if he believed he had a chance first of making contact with the creature and second of immobilizing it. But Louis was no match for the bat as it darted about bashing itself from wall to wall.
Jasmine ran around the living room, turning on all the lights, which flushed the bat into the dining room. Louis ran ahead, pillow in motion, and Jasmine followed, turning on all the lights, followed by Lily, Iris, Violet, and Marguerite with a wailing William in her arms. Louis landed a firm blow to the brass floor lamp in the corner, causing it to teeter. Jasmine caught it before it fell. She shouted, “Louis, stop! You’re going to break something.”
“I can catch it!” he cried.
“There it is – over there!” shouted Violet.
Jasmine flicked on the lamp, and the bat fled into the kitchen.
“Not the fudge!” screamed Lily, and all the children ran into the kitchen, screaming, shouting, and turning on lights. They circled back around toward the living room, and the bat headed up to the darkened second floor, which set off a new wave of screaming as the girls were terrified to think that this diminutive Dracula would seek refuge in their bedroom, or closet.
The children climbed the stairs en masse, with Lily bringing up the rear. Mommy, Daddy, Alexander, John, Jasmine, Violet, Marguerite, Henry, Louis, Iris, Lily, William, Charles, Richard.
“Cover your head!” cried Violet. “Bats like to make nests in your hair,” which, of course, made everyone scream all the more loudly and frantically.
Jasmine ran around turning on all the hallway lights, but the bat went directly up to the third floor, one half of which was Alexander and John’s room, and the other half an attic crammed full of boxes of Christmas decorations, baby photos, yellowed linens, and musty textbooks. Up went the children.
“Jasmine? Violet?” their mother called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Jeepers Cripes,” shouted their father. “Why the heck are all the lights on?”
Lily ran down the stairs to the second floor, anxious to deliver the news.
“There’s a bat up there!” she shouted. “And Louis is trying to get him with a pillow and Jasmine is turning on all the lights, and Violet said he is going to get stuck in my hair, and -”
“A bat?!” Lily’s mother threw her purse against her husband’s chest, opened the linen closet, grabbed a broom, took up her skirt with her free hand, and mounted the attic stairs two at a time, with Lily at her heels. She found the children standing in a circle, looking up, the bat hanging upside down from a rafter in the ceiling. Without hesitation, Elizabeth Whitacre Capotosti charged over and delivered one sure, swift, fatal blow. Her children watched as the bat released its grip and fell with a tiny thud to the floor. Lily walked over to get a closer look. She expected it to look like a bird, but jumped back with a gasp, suddenly afraid and disgusted when she caught sight of its gnarled, brutish face.
Everyone stood speechless. Lily’s father, holding the purse, and her mother, breathless, broom in hand like a victorious Highland warrior - the same mother who pounded the dirt out of clothes, who cleaned up pee and vomit, who constantly had a baby to her breast, who cajoled and convinced the milkman. There was Louis with his pillow, and Jasmine, Violet, and Iris clinging to each other, and Marguerite wiping the tears from William’s cheeks. Then, as if on cue, the children broke into applause, cheering for their mother, the bat slayer.
5. Iris
There were not many things Iris would rather do on a Saturday evening than sit cross-legged at the foot of Grandma Capotosti’s rocker, watching her favorite variety show, with no one to make her move or complain that she was blocking their view. There may not be any popcorn, like there sometimes was at home, but if Iris was lucky, Auntie Rosa would make floats with the creamiest vanilla ice cream in the world and root beer that fizzed like crazy, which Iris got to drink with a straw. Besides drinking root beer floats, her favorite part of the evening was watching the plumed and costumed June Taylor Dancers filmed from above as they clustered and scattered like the multicolored chips in a kaleidoscope. She also liked seeing Grandma Capotosti smile, which she didn’t do very often, when the jolly man in a suit said to the audience “And awaaay we go!” and “How sweet it is!”
During the show, Auntie Rosa got caught up with the ironing, and Grandpa Capotosti sat in his easy chair in the back corner of the living room, where Grandma couldn’t see him, but he could see both her and Iris. Grandpa Capotosti had a mustache and a cane, and a little container he sometimes spit into, but he hardly ever talked. When Iris came to visit, the first thing he did when he saw her was smile and point
his cane in the direction of the windows, and Iris knew exactly what that meant, even without words. It meant that when she reached her hand behind the heavy green drapes, and ran her fingers over the polished wood of the window sill, they would find what they were looking for: a hidden chocolate Kiss wrapped in silver foil, just for her! His eyes would twinkle when she hugged him, the way they twinkled when he placed a finger over his lips, and gestured for Iris to help him out the back door and down the stairs so he could go across the street to the tavern, and they would be so quiet Grandma Capotosti wouldn’t even notice.
Iris was always sorry when the show ended, and it was time to rub lotion on her grandmother’s feet, nice and gentle, like Auntie Rosa had taught her. Grandma’s feet were cracked and blue, and sometimes she winced before Iris even touched her, which made her dread the task even more. When Iris asked Auntie Rosa why her feet never got better, Auntie Rosa told her the only thing to do was pray, and keep rubbing in the lotion. “Ricordati le preghiere, Iris,” Grandma Capotosti would tell her when she finished, then Iris would kiss her parchment cheek, and scuttle off to bed, where she would say an extra prayer just for her grandmother, before she could forget, and wait for Auntie Rosa. Sometimes, if it took Auntie Rosa a long time to help her grandmother to bed, Iris would pretend she was already asleep, counting on the fact that Auntie Rosa would never wake her up to make her say the rosary together. Auntie Rosa liked to recite five whole decades on the glow-in-the-dark beads that hung from her bedpost, but repeating all those Hail Marys and Our Fathers and Glory Bes, on top of rubbing lotion on her grandmother’s blue feet, made the memory of the dancers on TV fade away too fast, when all Iris wanted was to fall asleep with the root beer float in her tummy and the visions of the dancers in her eyes. Sometimes Auntie Rosa was so tired herself that she settled for “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep” which Iris recited every night anyway, except with Auntie Rosa, it always took a lot longer to name all the people they had to ask God to bless. When it was Auntie Rosa’s turn to list her names, she repeated the same ones as Iris, except for some minor changes, like calling Iris’s grandmother Mamma, and Iris’s father Carlo and her mother Betty, which was kind of a waste of time, and then she added a bunch of her own names, which was only fair, but then she got all strange and quivery when she mentioned her “little sister Teresa.”
The Complete Series Page 7