Wild Roses

by Deb Caletti

  “They rehearse in the day.”

  “Oh, shit—should I go?”

  “No! No, Ian. I have been trying to call you. Over and over. Your Mom told me not to call anymore. I didn’t think you wanted to see me….”

  “You’re kidding,” Ian said. “Man, I had no idea. She … she’s really upset. God, I worried maybe this wasn’t worth it anymore to you. You had enough of all the crap …”

  “No! I thought you… after your wrist, and what your mom said…. How could you ever even want to talk to me again?”

  “I was really worried,” he said.

  I went to him, put my arms around him, the bulky cast between us. He felt so good. His mouth felt so good. All the pieces came together and made sense again. It wasn’t happiness so much I felt, though that, too. There was just this profound relief. His cold mouth, warm breath filling me up again—just such relief.

  “Whatever happens,” he said. “Whatever, you’ve got to promise me you won’t go away from me anymore.”

  I put my head against his shoulder. The worry and relief poured out together, lodged somewhere in my throat. My eyes welled up. “I am so sorry, Ian. I am just so, so sorry about your arm.” I started to cry. He put his good arm around me.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “I was selfish,” I said. “You were working so hard. Please, if you could ever forgive me …”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “Look, fate decided things for itself. Cassie, look at me.” He tilted my chin up from his coat. Kissed each of my eyes. “Look,” he said.

  I looked. He was right. His face was soft, relaxed.

  “Oh, God, Ian. You’re happy.”

  “Happy—I’m ecstatic. Worried as hell, but ecstatic.”

  “I’m so glad. I am so, so glad.”

  “I didn’t have to make the choice. The choice was made for me,” he said.

  “What’s going to happen?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Financially … God, Cassie, things are such a mess. My mom’s a wreck. I feel awful about it. But there’s this piece of me in here. It’s flying.”

  “You’re free.”

  “God, I’m free,” he said.

  Three days. Two.

  One day and a bad night’s sleep. A restless, tense household, my mother making tea at 3:00 A.M. Dino playing in his office at 4:00 A.M. The toilet flushing, doors opened and closed. Me turning my pillow endlessly to the cool side.

  And then, the day of the concert.

  It’s funny about those monumental events that you wait and wait for, the ones that have the big buildup of a rocket launch. There’s all the drama and the trauma and then the actual day comes in, soft as any other day, just appearing the way all of the other ones appear. Friday morning, the sun came up the same way it had for a zillion years. I tried to summon some feeling of importance, gather up a sense of the monumental, but instead I just felt cranky and overtired, got up, and went into the bathroom and checked my face for disaster, as I did every day. When I left for school, Dino was still in bed, and the only sign of an important night was catching Mom downing Maalox in the bathroom, and the newspaper on the kitchen table folded to the article CAVALLI TO PERFORM FIRST NEW MUSIC IN SIX YEARS.

  The big thing that happened at school on Friday was that Mr. Robelard, the science teacher, caught on fire during an experiment in his second-period sophomore Life Science class. I was sitting in English class then, listening to Orlando, the gay guy from last trimester’s World History class, recite his poetry about love. He flung his arms out dramatically, and everyone rolled their eyes when he described the female object of his desire. Yeah, right. Her lips were pouting and red, he panted embarrassingly, just as the door shot open and this sophomore girl ran in yelling, “The teacher’s on fire! The teacher’s on fire!” Some kid in the back of the class actually laughed until we saw Mr. Robelard run past, the back of his coat in flames. Apparently some alcohol they were using for an experiment got too close to a Bunsen burner, and poof. I wondered how this was going to affect his elk calls.

  My own day may have seemed regularly irregular, but the outside music world was greeting it with anticipation. I got my first sense of this at lunch, when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find Mr. King, the orchestra teacher, standing behind me with bright eyes.

  “I just wanted to pass on my best wishes for this evening and my sincerest congratulations,” he whispered. And then off he scurried, as if the performance had already begun and he was politely leaving the concert hall to use the men’s room.

  Siang was treating me in that delicate fashion, too, telling me after school that she would not be coming over today, as it seemed best. Some kid with a violin case slipped me a note: I am a great admirer of yours, apparently missing the point that the only thing I could do with a violin was make it into a decorative planter.

  After school, I started to get a weird bout of nerves. My stomach was rolling and pitching, and I understood Mom’s Maalox. I decided I needed something to calm me down. A huge sugar hit, some Twinkies or something. I got a ride from Zebe and she dropped me off at the Front Street Market in town. She took her neon yellow rabbit’s foot off of her key chain and insisted I keep it with me for good luck tonight, even though it was creepy.

  “People have had them for hundreds of years,” Zebe said. “So they’ve got to be good for something.”

  “Not for the rabbit,” I told her.

  I perused the Hostess aisle happily, enjoying all of the beautiful possibilities. Momentarily, all would be joy. I was in the checkout aisle, purchasing more items than I care to tell about, when I heard some familiar voices over by that big ice compartment in the front of the store that you never see anyone near. You get to wondering if a dead body could be stored there, for all anyone ever opens it.

  “Hey, Bunny! Chuck!” I said. I was glad to see them. We were bonded by our wonderful and terrible day together. Bonded by our love for Ian Waters.

  “Look, I bought happiness,” I said, and showed them what was in my bag.

  “Whoa,” Chuck said. “You won the chocolate lottery.”

  “Not all chocolate. Fruit pies, too,” I said.

  “We’re just here for ice,” Bunny said unnecessarily. The door was open, and big whiffs of white air were escaping the chest. If he stood there any longer, he’d start looking like that abominable snowguy in that geeky Christmas cartoon with the carpenter elf and the Land of the Misfit Toys. “My back is still hurting from that fall I took. You remember that fall I took.”

  “Vaguely,” I said.

  “He’s sprained his lumbodorsal fascia, but he doesn’t believe me,” Chuck said.

  “Ice, and deep-tissue massage,” Bunny said.

  “Maybe a chiropractor,” Chuck said.

  “Hey, get off my back, ha ha,” Bunny said.

  “After the fiftieth time it’s not funny anymore, Bun.”

  “I’m sorry you’re still not feeling well,” I said. “Would a couple of Ho Hos help things?”

  “Waaay better than a chiropractor,” Bunny said.

  I shuffled around my loot, found the Ho Hos, and opened the package with my teeth.

  “I guess you heard Ian’s good news,” Chuck said.

  “That he’s quitting,” I said through the plastic. At ee’s kidding.

  “Quitting? No, that he got in,” Chuck said.

  I’d heard wrong, I guessed. I must have heard wrong.

  “What do you mean, got in?”

  “Maybe she hadn’t heard yet. Shit,” Bunny said. “God damn it, Chuck. You and your big mouth.”

  “What do you mean?” A sick feeling started in my stomach, some horrible dread. My face flushed red.

  “He got in,” Bunny said. “Curtis.”

  “How is that possible?” My voice sounded hoarse. I wanted to scream, and my voice sounded like I already had. “No! That’s not possible! How is that possible?”

  “Mr. Cavalli. He had a tape. He’d taped
Ian before he broke his wrist. Cavalli sent it in. Talked to the school and arranged for the tape to be used as an audition.”

  “No,” I whispered. “No.”

  “I thought maybe he should have asked Janet before he did that, but she’s obviously beside herself with happiness,” Bunny said.

  “What about Ian?”

  “I haven’t seen Ian,” Bunny said.

  “No one asked Ian.”

  “Janet said he was happy. I don’t know if this is the best thing for him or not,” Bunny said. “All I know is, he’s in. He’s going to Curtis.”

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “Hey, Cassie. I’m sorry if I said anything before Ian told you himself. I didn’t know.”

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  I dropped the Hostess loot there on the floor and I got the hell out of there. I ran home. I ran so fast. Fury gave me this speed I didn’t know I had. I wasn’t myself. I didn’t know who I was, but I wasn’t me. Dino had taken Ian’s life from him. No wonder he’d lost his outrage about Ian’s arm. He’d already taken matters into his own hands. Well, now I would take them into mine.

  I flung open the front door, slammed it behind me. How was that for turning the knob so it closed more quietly?

  “Cassie?” Mom appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I’m glad you’re home. We need to eat something before we go. God, what’s wrong?”

  “Where’s Dino?”

  “He’s getting into his tux. You’ve got to hurry up and get dressed.”

  I ignored her, went upstairs.

  “Knock, knock,” I said to the closed bedroom door. I was trying not to shout. I was doing everything I could to keep those shouts inside. My heart was beating furiously. I was hot all over, from the running, from the anger.

  “What is it?” Dino said. He opened the door. He stood there in the doorway in his tux, his tie loose.

  “What did you do?” I breathed.

  “I cannot handle your dramatics now. I’ve got to get ready,” he said.

  My mother arrived at the top of the stairs. “Cassie, come with me to your room,” she said. “We’ll handle whatever needs handling.”

  “Why did you do that? Why did you send that tape of Ian to Curtis?”

  “So that’s what the upset is this time. Always the boy, the boy, the boy. I saved his ass,” Dino said. “Daniella, really. Would you kindly remove your daughter from our room?”

  “He didn’t want to go,” I said. “He didn’t want that.”

  “It’s not always about what we want,” Dino said. “If I had what I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d be in New York at this moment, preparing to go to Lincoln Center instead of Benaroya Hall. And do you know why I am not in New York preparing to go to Lincoln Center?”

  “Dino, that’s not fair,” my mother said.

  “Because I married your mother, and your mother has you to think about.”

  “Dino. Stop,” Mom said. “Come on, guys. We’ve got a big night ahead, and …”

  “You,” I breathed. “Are a horrible person. And a liar.”

  “You’re wasting my time,” Dino said.

  “All of the stories about Italy and Sabbotino Grappa. Who are you, really?” I let the bomb drop from my hands. I let it slip to the floor, where it lay, ticking.

  Everyone was silent for a moment. I could hear Dino breathing heavily.

  “Because if you’re really Dino Cavalli, your history is a lie. No perfect house and mother in a feathered hat. No lemon trees. Maybe not even any bicycles.”

  “Get her out of here, Daniella. I have a performance to prepare for.”

  “Cassie. Your room. Now.”

  “He’s not who he says. What, did you pay those people to hide what you really are?”

  He turned away from me. I couldn’t see his face, which had become so hideous to me. If I could have seen his face, it probably would have been fallen and pale, I know now Drained of cover and laid bare, just a human.

  My mother took hold of my arm, led me out. “Cassie, what are you thinking? Do you know what you’re doing? Jesus.”

  “There are things you don’t know.”

  She closed my door with no small amount of anger. Her face was tight and her eyes flashed.

  “I do know.”

  “No, you don’t. Dino wasn’t born in Sabbotino Grappa. All of those stories were made up. He never even lived there. What do you think of him now? You never even knew him. It’s all a lie.”

  “I know that.”

  “What?” I sat down on the edge of my bed. My anger drained from me. Without it, I was suddenly exhausted. “What?” I wanted to cry. I was too tired for that, even.

  “I know that. You’re right. None of it was true. He made up the story when he was sixteen years old to cover the truth, and he’s stuck with it ever since.”

  “That’s crazy. That’s absolutely wacko. You knew this? Just one more nutso thing. I cannot believe this.”

  “He was doing his first interview, and found the town in a book. He chose it because it wasn’t a place likely to be visited, and too small to bump into anyone from there. He held a magnifying glass to the picture of the town square, the church, studied the tiny map. The rest … he just made up the rest.”

  “And all those people go along? Like you go along? I just don’t understand.”

  “When Edward Reynolds did the oral history, William Tiero went to Sabbotino Grappa. He talked to the priest, who then spoke to the handful of villagers. They’d already read about themselves by then in a couple of articles. They thought they were famous. Most didn’t need to be talked into anything. They didn’t even have to be paid. They loved being part of things. They loved having this bit of excitement. It made them happy. Some of the old people—they started to believe they really did remember Dino Cavalli and his family living in the big house on Via D’Oro.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s fucking creepy. They all go along like they’re in some kind of trance? Come on.”

  “It’s not about a trance. It’s a small village. It was fun for them, a thrill. They loved it. Some heard the stories so many times, they forgot what the truth was. This is not about creepy. This is about filling a boring life with something more interesting.”

  “You knew this. You knew and it didn’t even matter to you. Someone just goes and makes up his whole history and this doesn’t bother you?” Nothing would matter then, it seemed clear. This was my mother’s life, and my life. Nothing was going to change if she didn’t have limits of what she would tolerate. I would have to make some decisions. I grabbed my pillow and held it. Put my face down inside. Dad could turn down the heat of his house. Mom couldn’t turn down the heat of hers.

  “Honey,” she sighed. She sat down next to me, just sat there in silence for a while. “Dino needed that history. Needed it. And it made those people happy. They’re part of something bigger than the life they have there. I understood that.”

  “Why? Why would he need it so bad? Someone just needs to go and make himself up?”

  “Dino was born Dino Tiero in the inner city of Milan.”

  “Tiero? They’re related?”

  “They’re brothers. They were desperately poor. God, Cassie, they were so poor that they once had to eat a rat that William caught. Can you imagine that?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s still no reason to lie like that. Being poor …”

  “His mother was a prostitute. They never knew their father. They saw their mother hanging on the shower rail when he was fifteen. Suicide. He and William found her.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “A teacher, Giovanni Cavalli, had already given him his first violin a few years before. He taught Dino to play. Dino had a natural talent. That part was true. William got him jobs, and the playing kept them alive. Dino changed his name to honor the man who saved his life. William kept pushing, pushing Dino to greatness. They were always running from ghosts.”

  I was q
uiet. I felt horrible and cruel. Life could be so beautiful, and it could also be this mess of confusion and cruelty I didn’t know where to begin untangling things.

  “I’m sorry,” I said finally.

  “Cassie, I’m not saying this excuses all his behavior. Just explains some of it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “He didn’t even tell me any of this. William did. Dino’s doctor did. Dino fired William after he had Dino hospitalized. He thought he was ruining his ability to create.”

  “I just don’t get it. People would understand. I would have understood. Maybe there would be more compassion for him. He didn’t need to worry about the truth.”

  “I guess sometimes things seem too awful to say out loud.” I guess she was right about that. I still hadn’t told Ian the truth about what was happening at home. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to protect him, I wanted to protect you. He wanted to protect his mother. He didn’t want the world to know her that way.”

  “I wanted to protect you,” I said.

  “Oh, Cassie.” She looked so, so tired. She put her arms around me. “That’s my job,” she said. “To protect you. And I’m not doing it well enough.”

  I hugged her too. “All this has been hard,” I said.

  “How did you find out about Dino? We don’t even know for sure if Edward Reynolds discovered the truth, though I think he had to have. Every magazine and newspaper reporter since has taken their information from that book.”

  “Dad found out.”

  “What? Dad?”

  “He was worried about you.”

  “None of this is his business.”

  “Don’t be mad at him. He did it out of love.”

  Mom sighed. Shook her head. “All the things,” she said. “Done out of love.”

  Karl Lager: Well, then the concerts in the piazza started every Saturday morning. Do you understand what that did to my business? No one went into the store for an hour or more. They came to listen to that horrible child, not to buy peaches.

  Father Tony Abrulla: I will confess I am glad he did not choose Sunday! I was just an assistant then, to Father Minelli. I close my eyes and still hear that music. It brought the people of Sabbotino Grappa together as one. For a few hours, this small boy kept Mrs. Salducci and Mrs. Latore from fighting. Even Frank Piccola came outside and stood to listen, and the threat of hell couldn’t make him leave his house for Mass on Sundays. Maybe he was depressed. We didn’t have depression, then, of course, that we knew of.