[Iris and Lily 01.0 - 03.0] The Complete Series

by Angela Scipioni

  She glanced up at Gregorio. He toyed with his moustache, his eyes fixed on hers. She took another sip of champagne, set the glass down, and unfolded the sheet of paper.

  “What is this?” she said, scrutinizing the paper in her hand. “It looks like a computer printout.”

  “Go ahead, Iris. You know enough Italian to read it for yourself.”

  “Leale Gregorio. That’s your name, of course, then there are a bunch of numbers … let’s see. Volume four ml, Conteggio thirty million per ml, Mobilità eccellente … followed by three little plus signs … Gregorio, what is this? It looks like some kind of laboratory analysis or something.”

  “That’s exactly what it is, Piccolina,” Gregorio said.

  “Is something wrong with you?” The panic rising in her chest was held at bay by the smile on Gregorio’s face, by his promise of a special surprise.

  “No, that’s just the point, Piccolina. There is nothing at all wrong with me.”

  “Are you sure? What’s this all about?” The sheet fluttered in her trembling hands as her eyes darted from the computer printout, to Gregorio’s face, and back again. “Seminogramma, it says.”

  “Yes, Iris. That report is good news. It tells us that all my sperm levels are well above normal.”

  “Your sperm levels?” Iris asked.

  “Lots of men refuse to be tested, they think their virility is being questioned. Fortunately, I am not one of them.”

  “You had your sperm tested?” Iris cried. Her face flushed as she noticed a pair of tourists from a neighboring table staring at her.

  “Well, Piccolina, it has been a whole year now, hasn’t it?”

  “But you didn’t even tell me you were going.”

  “I didn’t really care to disclose the details of the procedure,” Gregorio said. “I mean, it’s not like I needed you to give me a hand or anything.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled at his own attempt at humor.

  Iris’s hands trembled as she picked up his flute and gulped down the rest of the champagne, but the bubbles made her cough. She should be ashamed of being so materialistic. What had she turned into, dreaming of expensive jewelry, and cars and airline trips? She cleared her throat, and said, “Congratulations, or whatever you say in situations like this. I guess it’s good news, right?”

  “Very good news. Generally speaking, infertility problems residing with the female are easier to treat effectively.”

  “Infertility?” It sounded like a disease.

  “Yes, Iris. When a healthy, young couple has regular intercourse without adopting any contraceptive measures and the woman fails to conceive, it’s referred to as infertility.”

  “Infertility,” she repeated.

  “We love each other, Piccolina. And we both want children very badly, don’t we?” Gregorio said, waving away the waiter, who had come to pour another glass of champagne.

  “Of course we do. I’m sure they’ll come, when the time is right. Maybe we just need to be patient.”

  “Time passes quickly, and we both know we want more than one child, so I think it is safe to say our patience has run out.”

  “It has?”

  “Yes. But don’t you worry. I’ll handle everything for you at the Policlinico. Let’s not worry about that tonight, though.” He extracted a small rectangular packet from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Iris. “For now, you should have this.”

  The packet was light, and she felt something move when she rattled it. She was disturbed by the discovery that she was infertile. Gregorio must have known how the news would affect her, and wanted to cheer her up with a real gift. She wished the waiter would come back with the champagne. She rattled the box again, and decided it must be a bracelet, maybe one to match the choker around her neck.

  She tore away a corner of the paper and pulled out what appeared to be a thermometer in a box. “A thermometer?” she said, realizing that was precisely what it was.

  “Yes! It’s for taking your basal body temperature. First thing in the morning, before you even get out of bed. Then you mark it on this little chart here.” He took a printed sheet from his breast pocket, and spread it on the table, anchoring the corners down with the little bowls of caviar and olive paté, as he indicated an example of a temperature graph. “It tells us when you’re ovulating. When we know it’s time, we have to move fast, so I can send my team in to get the job done.” Gregorio winked.

  “Oh. How clever,” Iris said, staring at the empty flutes. She wondered whether this was a good time to give him the leather wallet she had bought for him with her lesson money, but she didn’t feel like it.

  “Maybe we should order,” she said, squeezing her voice past the tightness in her throat. She tugged at her gold choker, then looked at her Swiss watch. Her father would be landing at JFK just about now. Was it only that morning that they had said goodbye?

  4. Lily

  Lily spent her days working in a little room in the back of the SaveMart. She didn’t have interaction with any customers, which was one of the things Joe liked about the job. After all, you never did know who to trust these days. “You are just too gullible,” Joe would tell her. He was right. She was willing to be friendly with just about anyone.

  Her only real companions at SaveMart were the pliers, flat-head screwdrivers, and mallets that were the standard tools of her work. On the floor under her work table was a box filled with the written instructions for every TV stand, tricycle, and lawn mower she had ever assembled. She found the documentation practically useless as it always made the process so much more difficult than it needed to be. As far as Lily was concerned, all you had to do was scan the instructions once, look at the picture on the box, and use common sense. If she ever got stuck, she would simply walk out onto the floor and look at the display model. There wasn’t a question you couldn’t answer for yourself by seeing the way something was supposed to look when it was right.

  When Lily wasn’t at work, she enjoyed setting up house. Her SaveMart discount made it possible for her to buy inexpensive wall hangings and other decorative items. She resolved not to spend a lot on the apartment since it was temporary and she wanted them to save as much money as they could toward a starter house; what little they had never seemed to go far.

  Joe had curbed his gambling for the first few months, but it gradually increased again over time. At first, they just went to Batavia Downs with the family every Saturday. After all, they didn’t go bowling or go out to eat every weekend like many couples did. Going to the track was their entertainment. And after all, as Joe said, they had to have some fun, didn’t they? They couldn’t just work all the time without an outlet. The rides home after the outings to the track were spent in animated conversation when Joe collected on a bet, but more often they were marked by the sullen silence of bad luck. Before going to sleep, Joe would come to her without fail, and either in celebration or in consolation, release his pent up emotion on her.

  After about six months, Joe added a midweek trip to the track, to let off steam after work. With the advent of televised racing, and the proliferation of OTB parlors, stopping “for a race or two” on the way home from the store became a part of his regular routine.

  Yet even given the limited funds, Lily did her best to create a warm and welcoming home. She knew she was no Betty Crocker, but there weren’t many twenty-year-olds who could say that they had the competency to run a household. She was glad to be able to put her skills to work for her own benefit for a change, after spending years taking care of others.

  “Geez, Lil,” said Joe one night at dinner. “There’s enough casserole here to feed an army!”

  “Sorry,” said Lily. “I guess I have to get the knack of cooking for two. Either that, or start inviting friends over.”

  Joe laughed. “Or,” he said, with a glint in his eye. “We could start to fill the table up with some babies.”

  Joe and Lily spent most evenings eating dinner at home and then holding hands on the cou
ch, watching TV, chatting about their days. Lily loved telling Joe stories of her customers - like the visually impaired man who bought a new curio stand for his wife, or the single mother who needed help assembling her daughter’s first tricycle. And Lily hung on Joe’s every word as he shared gossip from the shipping dock at La Casa Bella where Alfonso and the others would come to smoke or to listen to a game on the radio and hang out. Their routine was simple and easy, and Lily was grateful to finally have a home and a life of her own. Even their love life became predictably comfortable. Joe approached Lily for sex daily, sometimes twice in a day; his appetite for her never waned, and Lily grew adept at discerning the patterns of his desire, doing her best to be prepared and ready so that she would at least have a chance at participating before he finished and went on to the next activity. Sometimes he remembered to take care to please her, and sometimes he did not. Sometimes he unwittingly satisfied her, while at other times she was left to satisfy herself.

  She also learned to detect Joe’s mood by the way he behaved in bed. While he was always energetic and eager, if things were going bad at work, or if he and Lily were having trouble making rent, he was rougher, more hurried. Lily found the unpredictability of his moods titillating, like reaching inside a box of Crackerjack, hoping for a good prize. It was the potential that she most appreciated, the idea of arousing him that excited her, his craving for satisfaction that kept her anxious to please him.

  Just before their first anniversary, Lily missed her period. She scheduled an appointment with the doctor, and gave Joe the official news.

  “I’m going to have a son?” he shouted. “I’m going to have a son?!”

  “Or a daughter,” said Lily. “It might be a girl, you know!”

  “I have a good feeling about this,” said Joe. “It’s a boy.”

  “I’m so excited,” said Lily. “And scared. I can’t wait to tell everyone - but I do feel kinda bad about telling Iris.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, she told me when they got married that they wanted to start a family right away. She and Gregorio have been married longer than we have and she hasn’t gotten pregnant yet. I suppose I’ll have to tell her when she comes, but I don’t want to make her feel bad.”

  “She’s got it made,” said Joe. “You think she feels bad because you don’t have as much as she does?”

  “I guess not,” Lily replied.

  “Let’s face it, Lil,” said Joe. “There are some things that money just can’t buy. I guess she never planned on that.” Joe grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. “You do what you want with Iris. I’m running over to tell Ma in person.”

  The following Sunday at family dinner, Joe stood up and said, “Everyone - I have an announcement to make.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Lucy. “Last time you said that, it was a baby. What the hell did you do now?”

  “I went to talk to Uncle Frankie this morning. I told him that since I am having a son, I am going to need to make more money.”

  “Did you ask for a raise?” said Lily. They sure could use more money right about now. “What did he say?”

  “I didn’t ask for a raise,” said Joe. “I did one better. I told him I wanted to move up from the shipping docks and work on the sales floor, with Alfonso and Anthony.”

  “Madon’ ” said Alfonso. “I hope he said ‘no’. You don’t have what it takes for that job. I know ‘cuz I been doing it for five years.”

  “And you’re making money hand-over-fist. Afraid of a little competition?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” said Alfonso sarcastically. “I’m afraid of you.” He turned to Anthony, and with a sidelong nod toward Joe, he said, “Do you believe this guy?”

  “He won’t last a week,” said Anthony. “You should just stay where you are, working on the docks with the medigans. You are too much of a hot head for sales.”

  Lily noticed Joe pursing his lips, the way he always did when he lost a bet.

  “What did Uncle Frankie say?” she said, hoping to distract him from his anger.

  “He said the same things these as these stugots. He doesn’t think I have what it takes to make it up there with those guys. So I told him, I said, ‘Uncle Frankie, I tell you what: you give me a month and if I don’t produce you can send me back down to the docks, no questions asked.’”

  “And...?”

  “And I start next Monday,” said Joe.

  “No shit?” said Lily.

  “No shit!”

  “How much does it pay?”

  “It’s based on commission. You get a cut of the profits for each piece you sell, and you also get bonuses for selling financing packages at the bank, and whenever you meet your quota.”

  “What if you don’t sell anything?”

  “No sales, no pay,” said Alfonso. “You’re gonna starve.”

  “We’re not gonna starve, Lily - don’t you even give that a second thought. I don’t care if I have to work morning, noon, and night. I am going make enough money so you can quit your job when Joe Jr. comes, so he can have a full-time mother.”

  “We don’t know if it’s a boy,” said Lily. “Anyway, even if it is a boy, we haven’t decided if we’re going to name it Joe.”

  “You have to name a baby after his father!” shouted Lucy.

  “Why?” said Lily, “It’s a nice tradition and everything, but it’s confusing. I don’t want my son growing up being known as ‘little Joe.’ I’d like him to have his own identity.”

  “His identity comes from his family,” said Lucy. She turned to Joe. “Whatsa matter with you? You can’t have a boy and not name it Joe. Whatya doin’ to me?”

  “I’m not doing anything,” Joe said.

  “I still have a long way to go, yet,” said Lily. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Everyone at the table looked at Lily, probably just as shocked as she was that she would presume to put an end to a discussion that had such potential for shame and discord as what to name the next Diotallevi heir. Either they didn’t get the analogy and were still trying to figure out what bridges had to do with anything, or the pregnancy had endowed Lily with a sort of authority that she was only just beginning to recognize.

  That evening, Joe’s mother called on the phone.

  “Ma, take it easy,” Lily heard him say. “She don’t mean nothin’ by that... What are you getting so worked up for?... I know, but - Ma, Jesus Christ... OK, OK. Yeah, OK.”

  Joe hung up the phone. “Lunatic,” he muttered.

  “What was that all about?” asked Lily.

  “My mother is really pissed that you said we might not name the baby Joe.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “I told her I would talk to you about it.”

  “It’s not really her business,” said Lily.

  “I know,” said Joe. “But I just don’t wanna hafta hear her bitchin’ about it all the time.”

  “Just tell her that it’s not up to her,” said Lily. “We get to name our baby whatever we want.”

  “Well, she does have a point, though, Lil - it is her grandchild.”

  “But it’s my baby,” said Lily. “Doesn’t that matter more?”

  “Jesus, Lil, what is the big deal anyway?” Joe shouted. “Can’t you just let her have her way? She is never gonna stop raggin’ on me about this and I just don’t want to hear it.”

  Lily’s throat burned as tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s my baby.”

  “Aw, don’t go cryin’ now,” said Joe as he sat down beside her. “Listen, I know we can name the baby whatever we want, but my mother, well, she’s not smart like you, Lil - she never finished high school, she never had a job - her family is all she has. This shit means everything to her.”

  “But she got to name her own babies,” said Lily.

  “Not really,” said Joe. “My grandmother was a pain the in ass and my mother had to listen to her shit all the time about how to raise her family.”

  “So you w
ould think that your mother would understand how I feel then.”

  “No. She figures she had to put up with someone else calling the shots in her life, and now it’s her turn.”

  “That’s crazy, Joe,” said Lily.

  “I know it is. But if you can’t do it for her, at least do it for me, so she won’t keep naggin’ me about it.”

  “But then she’ll think that all she has to do is call and yell at you on the phone and you’ll talk to me, and then she’ll get her way.”

  “Jesus, Lil - so what? It’s not like she’s asking you for that much, is she? Would it be so bad to name the baby Joe?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “The point is that between the two of you, I have a pounding headache, that’s the point. I gotta get some air. I’m going to OTB for a couple races. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Joe - wait!” called Lily as Joe slammed the door behind him.

  Two hours later, after Lily had gone to bed, Joe returned home. He climbed in next to her, pulled her nightie up and made love to her without speaking a word. Afterwards, he turned his back to her and pulled the covers up over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean to yell before,” he said. “You know I put you first, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” said Lily, unconvinced. She only had seven-and-a-half more months until she would be the mother. Things would be different then. Then, she would be the one in charge.

  During the first trimester of her pregnancy, Lily took full advantage of Joe’s repeated admonitions to stay off her feet and rest. She appreciated the perfect excuse to stay home from the track on Saturdays. She was still mad at her mother-in-law and her hormones were making it more difficult for her to control herself from speaking her mind. It was better to stay home and keep the peace.

  “You don’t belong there in your condition, anyway,” said Joe. Lily suspected that he was glad to place his bets and have his fits without her around. And it was a relief to Lily to stay home alone with her paycheck and watch a movie on HBO. Sometimes Joe came home with money left in his pocket, and sometimes he did not, despite his promise to Lily on their honeymoon. Still, it did her no good to ride the roller coaster of emotion with him every Saturday night. The bills always got paid somehow, and she wanted to remain as calm and peaceful as possible, for the baby’s sake. It was bad enough that her parents were still at each other’s throats, unendingly dragging her into the middle of their latest battle.