Later that Month
Outside of Luccardi’s Restaurant, Nancy was in awe of the dwelling. It was real; she wasn’t imagining all the billboard signs or magazine ads…the pieces and little hints.
Standing just outside the opening, couples passed her by and walked in through the heavy wooden doors as Nancy hesitated, she wanted to go in as well but doesn’t and peered through the window instead; patrons were eating, having a good time then gazed towards the back of the restaurant and distinguished a tall shadow of a man in the background. The image of the man frightened her for some reason, she thought she had gotten over her past, pushed it aside like a death in her family. Treated it like an old memory, remembering it every now and then but never dwelling over the past. It was always best for her to move forward, move on living a life and living in the past never helped her anyways. She never wanted to visit her past, never. She never wanted to think about it, or him. Thinking about him would bring forth painful memories…and who wanted to live with pain? No, she’d rather just move ahead and look forward to what happened next. But now, her world was being turned upside down and these little hints were now strangling her to death. There’s that death thing again. Why couldn’t the past just remain buried away? How could a little thing like a billboard sign or a magazine ad awaken such cherished buried feelings? And then there was Derrie…
Derek Magnet, her daughter’s high school friend. She was on her way out of her house when Derrie was there about to knock on her front door. For one strange moment, she thought he was him. Looking at a ghost and an apparition she wished would come true. Nancy felt like a complete idiot just standing there idle staring at him. He reminded Nancy so much of him. He was the same height, same color skin and hair, even the same eyes. She actually wanted to hug him! Touch him, wrap her arms around him and ask for his help. She wished to God he could save her, and that’s when she blinked back to reality and realized he wasn’t him! He was just Francine’s high school friend, Derek Magnet.
What the hell was happening to her? Why was she losing her mind? Why were the ghosts of her past coming back more frequently now? Why were the ghosts of her past keep haunting her!
December, 1967
Inside the front seat of her car, Francine took a peek at her rear-view mirror and anticipated Derrie’s arrival home from school. She had to speak to him, had to try to convince him that she was making the right decision—but why? She had never felt so much confusion in all her life! Inside her head she was making the right decision, but in her heart there was something else. Pulling her towards someone else…but trying to persuade her heart otherwise? She was making the right choice by marrying Ian…it just had to be.
Derrie didn’t show up in his driveway and fed up, Francine opened up her car door to find Derrie sitting on her front porch step waiting for her.
“What the hell took you so long?” He asked, cocking his head to one side. “What were you doing in there for so long?”
Francine was beyond embarrassed, “Derrie, how long have you been sitting there?”
“For almost half an hour,” he quipped quickly, “What the hell were you doing?”
Francine smiled; she was almost relieved, “Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Which street do you take home anyway? Oxnard? I must have passed you almost forty-five minutes ago.”
Passing him on her way up the steps, Francine walked up the stairs and took a seat just above him. “Then you drive too fast.”
Derrie nodded his head in agreement, “Your mom said there was a TV dinner in the freezer and that your father was coming home late.”
“When did you talk to her? Where did she go?”
“I don’t know, she didn’t tell me that….Oh, and your sister, what’s her name again?”
“Suzy.”
“Yeah, Suzy, she left too, with her little one and their dog.”
“She doesn’t have a dog.”
“Oh,” he let go closing his eyes. “That must be the reason why it started yelping when I stuffed him in her car!”
Francine began to laugh.
“So this means you’re free for dinner?”
“I guess it does,” she said, smiling freely.
Inside the Magnet home, everywhere Francine turned there were flags. To put it plain and simple, the American flag; flags on the walls, flag pictures, flag trimmings. All the other times she had visited his house to do their homework or to work on their economics project, Francine had been invited in only to be led straight up the staircase and never into the living area. But now, there they were, like a red, white and blue nightmare. It was really, really odd, like his parents were trying to make some kind of statement. And, at the dinner table, Francine had to smile again, on the brink of a full-fledged hoot when she surveyed the all American meal across his dining room table: Meat-loaf with peas, mashed potatoes and gravy, milk, orange juice and apple pie. Francine kept eyeing Derrie, trying to search his face to see if he was as muddled as she was but he wasn’t—this All-American spectacle had all been normal to him.
Francine leaned over to Derrie and whispered, “You are Italian, right?”
Derrie just shook his head and then Francine set eyes on Derrie’s father. He was a handsome man for his age, she thought as she dug her fork into her meat-loaf, now she knew where Derrie got his good looks.
Jerry Magnet was in his early forties; fit and trim, he had purposely reinvented himself. Now a successful restaurateur, he was a workaholic that cared deeply for his family.“Mama…I’m gonna open up number six for us next month, how’s that for progress?” Jerry boasted, pouring himself some red wine.
Sophia looked over at her son for a quick second and then shoved her own empty wine glass towards the spout as Jerry finished the bottle of wine into her glass. “Can you trust him son? You can’t trust anyone these days. Look at all those stories I hear ‘bout embezzlement. You make it too easy for just anyone to walk away your money.”
Jerry doesn’t say anything else and shook his head like a little boy agreeing with his mother. He then looked over at his dinner guest. “What does your father do?” He asked Francine, pointing his fork at her face by mistake. “Is he concerned as I am about crime?”
Francine looked over at Derrie for support. Derrie wasn’t paying attention to the conversation and just continued to eat his meatloaf like a good little boy. “My father has a bookkeeper who handles his money,” Francine relayed, gazing back at Derrie’s father.
“Oh,” Jerry let go confused. He then looked over at his mother again, “Mama, you not proud of me?”
She shrugged her shoulders, “You need to spend more time with your son. Lei lavora troppo.”
“I know I work too much Mama, but working hard has bought us this beautiful house. You love this beautiful house, la mamma giusta?”
“Si il figlio, amo questa casa, I like the house.”
Jerry smiled and then acknowledged his agreement by extending out his jaw proudly. He then looked over at his dinner guest once again and inquired, “What does your father do exactly?”
Francine took a quick peek at Derrie another time for support. Derrie still wasn’t paying any attention to her and continued to eat his apple pie. “My father works for Hartford Insurance.”
“Oh, he sells insurance?”
“No, he’s the President of the company.”
“The President of the company,” Jerry repeated right after her shaking his head like he was impressed with the fancy title.
“What do you do Mr. Magnet? Derrie doesn’t say much about your job.”
Within hearing his name, Derrie now pays attention to the conversation.
“Really?” Jerry uttered surprised. “I run diners.”
Derrie started to laugh. “Dad, no one calls them diners anymore, they’re restaurants.”
“You run a restaurant?” Francine asked a little shocked.
“Own, my dear, own,” Jerry stated, smugly. “And more than one I might add.
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br /> “Oh? What’s the name of your restaurants? Maybe I’ve been there.”
“Luccardi’s.”
“Luccardi’s?” Francine repeated, not so sure of this conversation, and equally unsure of Derrie’s father. She felt like she couldn’t keep her eyes off him and him of her. She then said nothing else and realized that Derrie’s father’s accent only came out when he was describing something Italian or speaking to his mother, other than that there wasn’t a hint of being a foreigner. “I’ve heard of that place. You’re over on Ventura Boulevard, aren’t you…Right between that fancy shopping mall and the movie theater?”
“Yes, that’s one location,” Jerry said arrogantly, “I’m all over the Los Angeles area. You’ve eaten there I presume? I always like to hear what my customers think of the food.”
“I’m sorry, but no, I haven’t been there. But once, after my family finished seeing a movie, my father suggested that we go to your place next door, but my mother didn’t want to go, so we ended up eating Chinese.”
Jerry stopped eating and stared at Francine again. Insulted, he inquired with an Italian slip, “What’s wrong with your mother? She don’t like Italian food or something?”
Francine gulped, “No, Mr. Magnet, on the contrary! She loves Italian food. My mother’s so hung up on tomatoes; we practically have acres growing in our backyard!”
Derrie started to laugh, but Jerry still was not amused. Something was bothering him and he couldn’t understand why. He felt like he knew this young girl, seen her before, but he’s never met her until today. What was it exactly?
Francine caught Mr. Magnet staring at her queerly again; he was making her feel uneasy this time by his long inspection. “But I’ll tell my parents to take us there one night,” she said quickly, trying to ease the tension.
“You do that,” Jerry said, cutting himself a slice of pie. “You do just that…”
After the food was all eaten and the wine all drank, Jerry stood just inside the front door with one hand on the door knob and the other flush with the wood when he eyed Francine and Derrie saying their goodbyes. Studying his son’s body movement and unusual interest in their dinner guest, Jerry realized that his son was probably wishing that his father wasn’t still there so he could kiss her goodnight. He was just about to turn away to give them their space when he heard Francine let out, “Mr. Magnet thanks so much for dinner.”
“You’re very welcome Francine,” Jerry softly said turning around to face her, “It was nice to finally meet you,” he playfully assumed, winking at his son.
Derrie pretended not to catch his father’s conjecture when he noticed his father focusing on Francine’s face again. Why was he so interested in her anyhow?
Francine’s face flushed red, within seeing Derrie’s father still continuing to stare at her. She swallowed hard then blurted out, “My parents are planning this huge New Year’s Eve party for the neighborhood, Mr. Magnet,” she wheezed, “Kind of like a house warming slash New Year’s Eve party and I would like you to come, you and Derrie, of course, your mother too. The entire neighborhood is invited.”
Derrie eyed his father for a decision, but Jerry was too engrossed still in Francine.
Jerry quickly pulled back his focus and then gazed down at the ground. Kicking his shoe into the ‘welcome’ mat, he relayed, “I don’t know Francine…I’ll have to think about it.”
After closing the door, Derrie walked Francine over to her front porch.
“Do you think you can come to the party?” Francine asked him while they were walking.
“I don’t know my dad’s always working.”
They make it the front porch step and sit down again. Francine watched Derrie as he leaned his body back onto a step and gazed out at the orange sky. “Well then, do you think you can come?”
“I dunno,” he just said sort of sadly.
“I want you to come,” Francine said gingerly. “I want you to meet Ian; he’ll be coming back to California in a few weeks to stay with us.”
Derrie looked away from her for a moment, “Why is he gonna stay with you?”
He walked into this one. “To prepare for the wedding, silly.”
Still not looking at her, Derrie rolled his eyes, “Oh.”
Then silence, until…
“What’cha think of dinner?” He asked of her staring out at beautiful red-yellow sunset out on the horizon.
Francine looked down at her sandals. “Oh, it was an experience.”
“What, dinner…Or the whole ambiance?”
“Oh, I guess, everything…total. Has your father always been like that?”
“Like what?” He asked, stretching out his legs, “Proud to be an American?”
“Yeah, proud to be an American,” Francine agreed, “He’s so red, white and blue!”
“Yeah, I know,” Derrie said, smiling and shrugging his shoulders. “Something happened to him before I was born. With my mother dying, he’s always been so hung up on his nationality, like people are gonna judge him or something, he’s so damn insistent on everyone knowing that he’s an American.”
“Same with my mother,” Francine softly voiced, “She’s always insisted on us knowing the difference between certain races and not to judge people by the color of their skin.”
“Wow, that’s weird how we both have that in common with our parents,” Derrie said eerily. “Want to know a deep dark secret?”
“Is it gross?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“No.”
“No really, a secret; a family secret.”
“Cool, OK, spill it.”
“That my family name isn’t really Magnet.”
Francine looked at him oddly, “Really? Like what? Like your name really isn’t Derek Magnet?”
“Yeah, like my father changed his entire name back in the forties and our family name really isn’t Magnet.”
Francine was taken-back. “OK, so what’s your real name?”
“Magetti.”
Francine let it soak in for a moment. “Magetti? Really? Like Derrie Magetti?”
“Dosario Angelo Magetti. It’s Italian!”
Francine started to laugh. “Well, nice to meet you Dosario-Ang-jello-whatever! Magetti, that’s a cool name, you should change it back.”
“Never! I kinda like my Magnet name now. Anyhow, my father makes me proud of what and who I am, whatever my name happens to be.”
“Your father has proven that point tremendously at dinner.”
Derrie laughed and agreed with her, “We’re both proud; and, we both hate this damn war Fran.”
“Well, Derrie, we all do.”
“I hate that the U.S. is even in Vietnam.”
“Like most Americans.”
“Two of my closest friends have already enlisted.”
“Ian enlisted.”
“He did?” Derrie asked envious for some reason. “I don’t know if I should go and enlist or wait to be drafted.”
“But Derrie, Notre Dame; you were accepted to Notre Dame.”
Magnet & Steele Page 9