Cast Me Gently

by Caren J. Werlinger

  She found the store and paused outside, looking at the display in the front window. There were small figurines of the Madonna, Jesus, and what she supposed were various saints posed around small replicas of Italian landmarks—the leaning tower of Pisa, the Coliseum, St. Peter’s Basilica. She pushed the door open, and a small bell overhead announced her arrival.

  If she had thought the smell of pierogi was tantalizing, the aromas now assailing her senses were even more appealing. She recognized the rich scent of chocolate, but there were others she couldn’t identify.

  “Can I help you?”

  Ellie turned to the candy case where an attractive woman with a white streak running through her black hair was standing, a starched white apron covering her front.

  “Yes, I—”

  “Ellie?”

  Ellie turned to see Teresa Benedetto stepping down from behind the pharmacy counter. “Miss Benedetto,” she said, smiling. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Ma, this is Ellie…?”

  “Ryan.”

  “Ellie Ryan from the bank. This is my mother, Sylvia Benedetto.” Teresa spied the paper in her hand. “My father drove away without his receipt again, didn’t he?”

  Ellie nodded. “Yes. I thought I would bring it to you. I wanted to take a walk on my lunch break anyway.”

  “That’s nice of you,” said Sylvia. “It’s chilly out there. How about a cappuccino to warm you up?”

  Ellie flushed. “No. I couldn’t.”

  Teresa quickly said, “We can’t send you back out into the cold without something. It’s on us.”

  Sylvia looked at her sharply for an instant, and then echoed, “Of course. As a thank-you.”

  Ellie smiled. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  Teresa stepped behind the coffee counter while Ellie looked around at the framed photos of various places in Italy dotting the walls behind the counters and the Italian products lining the shelves.

  “This leather smells so good,” Ellie said, holding a purse to her nose.

  She took her coat off and sat at the counter.

  “This store is really cute,” she said. “I feel like I’ve stepped into Italy.”

  “Have you ever been to Italy?” Sylvia asked.

  Ellie’s face lit up. “Not yet. But I want to go. Someday. Italy and France and England.” She stopped abruptly, as if she’d said too much.

  Teresa turned to listen while the espresso machine churned and hissed behind her. The bell over the door tinkled again, and another customer entered. Sylvia greeted the woman by name and went to speak with her as Teresa poured frothy milk over top of the drink and slid it across the counter. Ellie’s eyes widened as she took a sip, the frothy foam leaving a white mustache on her upper lip.

  “This is delicious!”

  “You’ve never had a cappuccino?” Teresa asked.

  Ellie shook her head, taking another sip.

  “But you want to travel?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Ellie, her face lighting up again. “I want to go everywhere. See everything.”

  “What’s stopping you?” Teresa asked, curious.

  Ellie’s cheeks burned red yet again. “Well, I’ve been saving money. Starting a travel fund. I have my passport. I’ll go.”

  “Someday,” echoed Teresa with a smile.

  Ellie cocked her head. “You’ve been?”

  “What? To Italy?”

  Ellie nodded, taking another sip of her cappuccino.

  “No,” Teresa said. She wiped down the gleaming marble counter. “My folks went back about fifteen years ago to see family that’s still there. Tuscany. But I’ve never been.”

  “You grew up here in Pittsburgh?”

  “Yes. Born and raised. You?”

  “Yes,” Ellie said. “My dad was a steelworker.”

  “Does he still have work?”

  Ellie looked down at her cup, her brow furrowed. “He got hurt in an accident at the mill. When I was ten. He lived a few months, but…”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been hard on your mother. And you.”

  “It was,” Ellie said.

  “Do you live with your mom now?”

  “No. She died before I graduated from high school. Cancer.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ellie.” Teresa looked mortified, an expression Ellie had learned to expect when she answered questions about her family. “Do you have any other family?”

  “I have a brother,” Ellie said brightly, but a shadow fell over her features. “He was in Vietnam, and well… he had a hard time when he got back. I haven’t seen him for a while.”

  An awkward silence filled the air between them, while elsewhere in the store, Sylvia continued chatting with the other customer.

  “Your window display is interesting,” Ellie said. “What’s it for?”

  “All Souls’ and All Saints’,” Teresa said.

  “Not Halloween? Does this neighborhood do Halloween?”

  “Yes. I guess we just always do the religious part of it,” Teresa said.

  Ellie got up and went to the window. Teresa followed. “You might get more people buying candy if you did a Halloween display,” Ellie said. “I mean, you sell candy, right? I don’t think saints have much of a connection to candy.”

  “Not much.”

  “It’s late in the season. I don’t even know if you could stock cheaper candy now, you know, the kind people would want to give away, not the good kind you have in the case. You could stay away from devils and witches, if that bothers some people,” Ellie continued, peering into the window, looking at the space available. “Do a whole display of jack-o’-lanterns and black cats and, if you have any little figurines—not saints or Jesus, I mean—you could dress them up in costumes like little kids trick-or-treating and—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to tell you how to decorate your store.”

  “No,” said Teresa. “It’s a great idea. You should work retail.”

  “Oh, I do,” Ellie said. “Before I got hired as a teller, I worked at Kaufman’s. I still work there during the holidays, to—”

  She stopped, blushing yet again.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” Teresa said, walking Ellie back to the counter. “I think it’s wonderful you have enough ambition to work hard to make extra money. My great-grandparents came here from Italy with less than fifty dollars. It’s only in the last ten or fifteen years that we’ve had the three stores, but it means I work about sixty hours a week here. When I was growing up, things were tight.”

  “I’d like to hear more about your great-grandparents sometime.” Ellie drained her cup and set it back on the counter. “Thank you for the cappuccino.” She slipped her coat back on and donned her gloves. “I should get back.”

  “Thanks for bringing the receipt to us,” Teresa said, opening the door.

  “See you soon,” Ellie said as she stepped back out into the cold and hurried down the sidewalk.

  She got back to the bank and took her place at her window just in time for the bank to re-open. There was a distinct chill in the air coming from both Linda and Suzanne. Should have kept my coat on, she thought with a smile.

  CHAPTER 5

  Teresa looked up as the front door opened and she heard Bernie’s voice call, “Bennie? You home?”

  The childhood nickname made Teresa smile. “In the kitchen.”

  “Well, look at you, all domestic,” Bernie said, taking her coat off as she stomped into the kitchen, where Teresa was rolling dough through the pasta maker.

  How does someone so little make so much noise? Teresa picked up a strip of cut dough and threw it at her.

  Bernie caught it and popped it into her mouth. “For dinner tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I keep trying to talk Ma into buying our pasta, but she won’t.�
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  “So you get to make pasta by hand? I haven’t done this since I was a kid.” Bernie went to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. “I went by the store, but you weren’t there. What’s up with the front window?”

  “What?”

  “All the Halloween stuff.”

  Teresa looked up. “Don’t you like it?”

  “No, it looks fine,” Bernie said. She pulled out her pack of cigarettes before remembering where she was. “Just not what I expect at Benedetto’s.”

  “Someone suggested it, and I thought we should give it a try.” Teresa hung the neat strips of cut dough on a pasta rack.

  “Someone like who?”

  “Her name is Ellie. She’s a teller at our bank,” Teresa said. She rolled another ball of dough flat to feed into the machine.

  “Why is a teller telling you how to decorate the store window?” Bernie sat, reaching for one of the biscotti sitting on a platter on the table and dunking it into her coffee. “And why are you listening?”

  “She also works at Kaufman’s and thought it might bring in more Halloween business.”

  “Has it?”

  “Yeah, it has.” Teresa caught the long strips as she cranked the handle. “We got some cheaper candy for people to give out and it’s selling really well. They can buy it here instead of going to the big stores.”

  “What’d your mom say?”

  Teresa grinned. “I did it without asking her. She started to make a fuss, but then the customers started buying. Said they didn’t know we carried that stuff, so that shut her up.”

  They were interrupted by Gianni’s entrance into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Bernie.” He flashed a big smile. “I didn’t know you were here.” He leaned close to her as he reached across her to take a biscotti.

  “God.” She leaned back and waved a hand in front of her face. “How much of that goddamned cologne are you wearing?”

  He gave her what Teresa guessed was supposed to be a roguish grin. Teresa made a gagging face, which Bernie saw over his shoulder.

  “You like it?” he asked suggestively. “What if I told you it’s all I wear to bed, like Marilyn Monroe?”

  Bernie laughed out loud. “If I want Italian meat, I’ll go to Salvatore’s butcher shop. You got nothing that interests me, Benedetto.”

  “You haven’t seen the way this meat’s wrapped,” he insisted, scooting a chair closer to her.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be at the store at noon?” Teresa asked.

  Gianni waved a hand. “Pop will cover till I get there.” He turned back to Bernie. “You’re just playing hard to get.”

  Bernie deliberately raised her coffee cup and took a sip before saying, “I’m not playing anything. I turned you down when you were five and tried to play doctor. I didn’t want to play with you then, and I don’t want to play with you now. Go away, Gianni.”

  Teresa laughed. “Get out of here.”

  “I’m going.” He scowled. “Y’uns don’t know a good thing when you see it.”

  Bernie pretended to look around. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

  Teresa laughed again as Gianni stormed out. “That’ll put him in a pissy mood for the rest of the day.”

  “Good,” Bernie said. “He’s really full of himself.”

  “Enough about him,” said Teresa. “What brings you over here?”

  Bernie shrugged. “Just wondered if you wanted to go out tonight? Dinner? Listen to some music somewhere?”

  Teresa looked at her. “Where’s Tom?”

  Bernie shrugged again. “Who gives a fuck? Somewhere with his bitch of a wife. I want to go out and forget his sorry ass. Come on. It’s Saturday. We haven’t been out in ages.”

  And whose fault is that? Teresa wanted to ask, but didn’t. “Okay.”

  “Can you make a day of it?” Bernie asked. “We could go downtown, go shopping and then go eat.”

  “I don’t need to go shopping.”

  Bernie gave her a withering look. “What’s that got to do with it? We live at home, for Christ’s sake. We got nothing else to spend our money on. Let’s go shopping, goddammit.”

  Teresa laughed. “All right. Shopping.” She set the pasta rack on the counter to let the pasta dry. “Let me wash up and change. Just be a few minutes.”

  A short while later, Teresa sat in the passenger seat of Bernie’s 1978 Toyota Corolla, her window down partway to bring fresh air into the car as Bernie puffed away on a cigarette.

  “My dad would have a heart attack if he saw me riding in this rice burner,” Teresa said.

  Bernie smirked. “I know. My dad gave me shit about it when I bought it, but it gets three times the gas mileage as his old Thunderbird did.” She glanced over. “Why doesn’t your dad complain about your Volkswagen?”

  “Oh, he does,” Teresa said. “But a European car is better to him than a Japanese car. He’d rather I was driving a Fiat, but Gianni’s is always in the shop and the parts cost an arm and a leg, so Pop can’t say too much.”

  Bernie drove downtown to Kaufman’s. “We haven’t been here in ages. Is your teller friend working today?”

  “I don’t know,” Teresa said. “She mentioned the holidays, but I don’t know when she starts.”

  Bernie found a parking space that was just barely big enough for the Corolla to wiggle into after multiple adjustments. “No way Dad could have done that in his Thunderbird.”

  “Or my dad with his Cadillac.” Teresa fumbled in her purse for quarters to feed the meter. “How long?”

  “Max it out,” Bernie said. “From here, we can go to Gimbels.”

  Teresa shook her head. “I should have known this could get expensive.”

  Bernie laughed and took her by the arm, steering her toward Kaufman’s main entrance and directly through to the Misses department. “Clothes. We need clothes.”

  Three hours later, an exhausted Teresa sat on a chair near the mirror in the dressing room, her lap piled high with Bernie’s intended purchases, while Bernie was in a dressing room, trying on yet another outfit.

  “When are you going to wear all these?” Teresa asked, sifting through the clothes stacked almost up to her chin.

  “Oh, you know,” came Bernie’s voice from the dressing room. “Work and such.”

  Teresa laughed, holding up a sequined blouse. “Work. Yeah. I can see you wearing this to work.”

  The dressing room door cracked open and one of Bernie’s eyes peered out at her. “Well, that one maybe for New Year’s.”

  Teresa gave her a look. “You’re counting on New Year’s?”

  Bernie closed the dressing room door without answering, and Teresa let it drop. It was always like this. Had been for years. Tom would have some obligation with his wife or kids, Bernie would get furious and cry and swear she was going to break it off for real this time, but… she never did. All he had to do was call or send her flowers and she was right back where she had been—always available on his terms, whenever he could sneak away. It broke Teresa’s heart to watch it, but she’d learned long ago that Bernie couldn’t or wouldn’t help herself get out of this mess.

  “I’ve got to get something to eat,” Teresa said when Bernie emerged at last from the dressing room. “Buy whatever you’re going to buy and let’s get to a restaurant.”

  Five shopping bags and a lot of money later, Bernie and Teresa left Kaufman’s.

  “Let’s drop these off at the car,” Teresa said, carrying three of the bags as she dodged people on the sidewalk.

  “Didn’t you buy anything?”

  Teresa made a face. “Couldn’t find anything that didn’t make my butt look even bigger.”

  “You’re crazy. There were tons of things that would have looked good on you,” Bernie said.

  “Yeah, like all the blouses and blaz
ers with shoulder pads. Who thought that was a good look? I’m big enough without wanting to look like a football player. It’s not as much fun shopping for clothes when you’re five-foot-ten and wear size sixteen as it is when you take a six in petites. You make me sick.”

  Bernie laughed. “You’re just grumpy because you’re hungry. Where do you want to eat?”

  “Miss Benedetto?”

  Teresa and Bernie both turned.

  “Ellie,” said Teresa. “We were wondering if we might see you down here. This is my friend, Bernie D’Armelio.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss D’Armelio.” Ellie shook Bernie’s hand.

  “Are you working here today?” Teresa asked, nodding back toward the store.

  “No,” said Ellie. “I had to meet the holiday hiring coordinator to work out my hours.” She pointed to the shopping bags. “Looks like you hit the jackpot.”

  Teresa shook her head. “All Bernie’s, not mine.”

  “Here, Bennie.” Bernie took the bags from Teresa’s hands. “I’ll take these to the car. Be right back.”

  “Bennie?”

  Teresa smiled. “Childhood nickname. Bernie and Bennie. We were inseparable. Carrying all her bags has me starving. We were just going to grab a bite to eat,” she said. “Can you join us?”

  Bernie came back, a lit cigarette in hand.

  “I’m sure you two don’t need someone else intruding on your evening,” Ellie said.

  “You’re not intruding,” Bernie said. “You work down here, right? Where would you recommend?”

  Ellie blushed, a reaction that Teresa recognized, and she quickly said, “I don’t want any place fancy. Just good, cheap food. Anything around here that fits the bill?”

  Ellie brightened. “There is a place—all the store employees go there when we get off. It’s not much to look at, but they’ve got the best burgers and shakes in Pittsburgh.”

  “Sounds like our kind of place,” Bernie said. “Lead the way.”

  Ellie guided them around the corner to a little diner that almost disappeared between two larger stores. “Most people walk right by and don’t even know it’s here.”

  She opened the door, and Teresa and Bernie stepped inside.