Old Pete slipped out of the receiving line and went up to the bar with everyone slapping him on the back and congratulating him and telling him that the bride and groom were “just about the most beautiful, handsomest couple they had ever seen” and “you really went all out this time, Pete.” He ordered a brandy and when he turned around with it in his hand about to gulp it Nick and Nora and the bishop were standing right behind him. Nora was talking to the bishop about a Saint Mary’s priest she had known who was a mutual friend of the bishop’s (they had taken a theology course together at Columbia in New York some years before).
“Have a drink with us, Dad,” Nick said respectfully.
“I have not seen your son in years,” the huge bishop said smiling, speaking in a soft, kindly voice. “He has grown. And his lady and I have a mutual friend. You will join us. I would like to propose a toast to the happiness of you and yours. I must do that. I have given you all the other kind of blessings that I can give.”
Old Pete was shaking, knowing he was stuck, and for a second not knowing what to do, then reverently he leaned over and took the bishop’s hand and kissed his ring and, as he raised back up, his eyes darted around the room suspiciously, wondering if Lou Duck or Mike Swanson or Baby-Carriage (all, he suddenly remembered, who had Nora’s number) wondering if any of them were watching.
Nick was thinking that maybe the heat and the excitement of the wedding were too much for Old Pete. Then the bishop put a friendly arm around Old Pete and they all moved forward to the bar, Old Pete trying very hard to avoid Nora’s eyes. They ordered and the bishop proposed a toast and they began to drink. Now with the bishop there no one, out of respect, would congratulate or disturb Old Pete or attempt to enter their circle.
Old Pete drank quickly and wanted very badly to excuse himself but he had such a great fear and respect of anyone in the Orthodox clergy, and the bishop especially, that he was afraid to excuse himself. Jesus, God, he said to himself, you don’t suppose Nick does know? God, if he knew and with that crazy wild temper of his, you don’t suppose he’d blow up and tell Mary? No! No! No, he’d never hurt his mother that way. But, Jesus the way-he did things without even thinking.
Nick could see that Old Pete was visibly disturbed, and edgy, and wanted to get away but knew, too, Old Pete’s fear of anyone connected with the church and thought that Old Pete must feel he was neglecting his duties as host. Nick turned to the bishop: “I think my father better run along. He has much to do.”
“Of course,” the bishop said. “And God be with you.”
“You will dance with me later, won’t you Mr. Stratton?” Nora asked Old Pete.
“Sure—Yeah—Of course. I’d be happy to. You have good taste, son,” he blurted and bowed and kissed the bishop’s ring again and left, calmly somehow, somehow hiding with all his practiced control the sense of frenzy and panic that was in him.
“Isn’t that Lou Duck over there?” Nora asked.
“You know him?” Nick asked.
“I’ve eaten in his restaurant a lot,” Nora said. “I don’t think he’ll recognize me.”
The bishop excused himself. Nick bent over and kissed his ring, then Nora extended her hand to him, and he walked away with the tall staff in his hand.
It was a ballroom in itself with tables for eight and four bars in the room and a huge glistening chandelier in the center of the room. There was to be no limit to the drinking, and champagne with the dinner, and the orchestra was to play until two in the morning. Then special guests were to use three adjoining suites Old Pete had taken upstairs for a special after-the-party party.
Nick checked with the head waiter to see what table they would eat at. It was a table right next to the bridal table and Pierro and Marci, and Raul and Raul’s father and mother (Nick had wangled them an invitation) were to be seated with them. Old Pete had had sense enough, Nick was relieved, not to put Pat at the same table and, undoubtedly, had put Yvonne with Pat.
“I’ve never been to a wedding like this one,” Nora said. “Not even in Lake Forest.”
There were four violin players strolling about the room and Nick noticed that the receiving line was finally busting up and saw his mother coming toward them. He introduced Nora.
“I understand you went to Saint Mary’s,” Mary said to Nora. “I went to the Madams of the Sacred Heart. In Lake Forest,” Mary added.
“My God, you look Nick’s age,” Nora complimented her. “It’s almost impossible to believe you’re Nick’s mother.”
“That’s no compliment,” Nick said putting his arm around his mother. His mother kissed him affectionately on the cheek. “You’ve done it up beautifully, Mother.”
Then Nora and Mary began to chat about the importance of good Catholic education and the refinements of the Catholic way of life.
“Nick’s told me so much about you,” she said before she left. “But he didn’t say half enough. I do hope you’ll come out and have dinner with us soon.”
“I’d love to,” Nora said.
Then Mary reached over and kissed her sweetly on the cheek as if she were a child, in much the same way she kissed Nick. They did not know that when they were talking to Mary Old Pete was hiding behind a marble pillar, watching.
“The Greeks have certainly come up in the world,” Nora said.
“Yes,” Nick said. “They overdo it a bit, I think like all the nouveau riche, but they sure deck their women out. Most of these people were penniless ten years ago. Now look at them,” Nick said, a note of pride in his voice. “I don’t know what it is about Greek men and jewelry. They’re always buying their wives jewelry. My father says it’s not a Greek idea but a Jewish one. He says the Jews say you can look like a bum yourself but if your wife looks prosperous everyone will believe you’re prosperous.”
“It seems to me I’ve seen your father before,” she said.
“Probably at Lou Duck’s,” Nick said casually. “You look wonderful, Nora. And you are.”
He stepped back a bit and looked at her standing there very poised in a simple black chiffon dress with a boat neck and low v-cut back and the single strand of pearls.
They had several drinks and Nick proudly introduced Nora around, then there was an announcement that dinner was to be served.
“We’re sitting with that goddamn stuffed shirt cousin of mine,” Nick said. “The architect I told you about. And Raul’s father and mother and Raul.”
“We’ll have a laugh with Raul’s father anyhow,” she smiled.
They sat down and Nick introduced Nora. Nora and Marci began to chat at once. Raul’s father was a little drunk already. They had dinner and they sipped champagne while all the speeches were going on, then, before the speeches were even over, Nick got a waiter to bring them some gin drinks, which caused a slight disturbance at their table. And being so close to the head table it embarrassed Pierro considerably because no one else had ordered special drinks for their tables.
After the speeches were over the ladies excused themselves and Nick said to Pierro,
“I think I’ll go ask my mother for a dance. You ought to dance with your sister, Pierro,” he added. “Come on, let’s go do our duty while our women are gone.”
“Of course,” Pierro said, knowing that it would please his mother and please Aunt Mary if he and Nick went up to the head table together to dance with their mother and sister respectively.
They performed their duty, then returned to the table. Old Pete seemed very pleased watching them perform their duty, in spite of his new overwhelming plight.
Nick truly enjoyed the dance with his mother. “Now I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the room,” he had told her when they were dancing. “How did you ever come to marry an old man like that?”
“Love, Nickie,” his mother said gayly. “Some day you’ll fall in love,” she said romantically, dramatically. “I like Nora. You should have told me more about her.”
“I tried. It’s Yvonne who doesn’t like her.”
Lou Duck had come up to the speaker’s table while Nick was dancing with his mother. He whispered to Old Pete: “Christ, Pete, you see who your kid’s with?”
“Christ, yes, I saw,” Old Pete said wiping the perspiration from his forehead. “I’m a wreck.”
“Does he know anything?”
“For Christ’s sake, I don’t even think he knows she’s a whore. That’s how goddamn dumb he is in some ways. He thinks she’s a rich widow.”
“Oh my God,” Lou Duck said in one quick breath and crossed himself Orthodox fashion. “I don’t think she’ll say nothing, do you?” he asked not affirmatively.
“She wouldn’t dare,” Old Pete said, but still not affirmatively.
“No, she wouldn’t, I don’t think,” Lou Duck said almost affirmatively.
“No,” Old Pete said almost convinced.
“Hell, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Lou Duck said.
“Hell no,” Old Pete said.
At times they were certainly good for each other, Ola Pete Stratton and Lou Duck. When times were tough, they had always been good for each other.
Marci and Nora came back and Yvonne and Pat came over to their table to say hello. Pat felt very young, very out of place, very unworldly talking to Marci and Nora. Marci noticed how Pat looked at Nick adoringly and thought it odd. She didn’t seem the kind at all who would get a crush on Nick. Pat excused herself quickly saying she had promised to dance with her father. Raul asked Yvonne to dance, then Raul’s father asked Nora to dance. And Nick, not about to be stuck with Raul’s mother who was trying to entice Marci into a conversation about “we of the theatre”, asked Marci to dance. Marci was not anxious to dance with him but she wasn’t too anxious to talk to Raul’s mother about the stage either. Nick was very pleased with himself leaving Pierro there with Raul’s mother.
When the dance ended, they went back to the table and joined the others. When the next dance was about to begin, Old Pete came walking by. He had been going from table to table greeting everyone. “You promised to dance with me, Mr. Stratton,” Nora said.
Old Pete Stratton thought quickly. Well, I might as well get it over with. We might as well find out where we stand with this whore.
Nora danced with Old Pete playing out her role of the widow, calling him Mr. Stratton and acting reserved, and casually informing him that Nick knew little about her. He came off the dance floor reassured, feeling extremely young and extremely light on his feet for one his age, knowing that this was one story that would never get around. (The only ones who knew about it were the ones who stood to suffer from it.) No, it would never get around. Old Pete, after he had deposited Nora back at her table, decided he was going to get drunk. He hadn’t been drunk in twenty years but, by God, if there was ever an occasion to get drunk it was tonight, now.
They drank and danced and talked and laughed. It was truly a very successful party. About midnight, Old Pete began to feel his drinks. He went up to the bandstand and made an announcement:
“Old Gus brought his zither. And Little Joe is here to lead the Greek dance. Shall we dance?” he asked in Greek. Nick translated what his father had said to the others at their table. Old Pete was met with resounding applause.
Nick hadn’t seen Gus or Joe since he had arrived, undoubtedly because they were far back in the room where the poorer relatives were seated.
Nick waved Old Gus and Little Joe of the one eye over to the table and introduced them around. Gus sat on the edge of the bandstand and Old Pete asked for silence, then Gus began to play. He played several old hill laments and all the Greeks who were there began to sing or hum along softly. A nostalgic air came over the room and someone turned the lights down low. Gus played beautifully, as Nick had never heard him play before, and there was tragedy in the songs, and gentleness, and a terrible longing. Many of the older Greeks were misty eyed or crying openly. Marci cried a little it was so beautiful, and when the final lament ended there were long seconds of silence before the applause broke out.
And Nora, too, was on the verge of tears. But they would be hysterical tears if they ever started, she knew, and held herself in check. She had had a considerable amount to drink and when drinking, when not working and drinking, and trying to forget, she would often cry uncontrollably, hysterically. Looking around the room, feeling the great open compassionate and passionate love (all at once) for these people for their native land, she felt more alone than she had ever, she believed, felt. And, somehow, too, ashamed of what she was, what she had let herself become. Almost tenderly she put her hand on Nick s hand stroking it almost reverently as if that hand were the one anchor that she had left in this world.
Nick, carried away himself, but feeling this tenderness and longing and loneliness in Nora, something he had never felt with her before, looked into her eyes. To him it only added another dimension to the woman she was.
Then Old Pete got up and announced that Little Joe would begin the Greek dance. Little Joe, very tipsy, walked across the dance floor proudly to where Yvonne was sitting. With a flourish, he took the handkerchief from his breast pocket and twisted it and gave one end to Yvonne, holding on to the other, signifying that she was his choice to lead the dance with him. Several other older Greeks joined Old Gus on the edge of the bandstand. They had mandolins and after a moment, while Yvonne and Joe stood posed in the middle of the floor, began to play the gay, wild, sometimes frenzied dance songs of the poor people of the Greek Hills.
As they began to dance, Joe, with the proud authority of one who had been decorated by the King of Greece himself as the finest dancer in the Greek Army, spotted Nick and signaled for him to join in the line and Nick took Nora’s hand (she was slightly reluctant at first) and went up and joined in and soon the line was at least forty people long, with everyone hopping and hollering, as the music became more wild, more frenzied. Marci had also joined in, with Raul’s father, who was continually out of step and very drunk and very funny. Finally, with the perspiration dripping from everyone’s face, the Greek dancing ended and the orchestra began to play again.
Nick asked Little Joe and Old Gus to come over to his table which considerably disturbed Pierro. Marci was fascinated by Old Gus and she thought Little Joe was very funny. Old Gus, zither in his lap, spoke of what a great fisherman Nick was and what a fine time they had had on their trip.
“Nick,” he finally said, “that is where you belong. In some place like that.”
“I agree,” Pierro said. “A nice isolated island somewhere would be ideal for you, Nickie.” When Pierro said “Nickie”, Nick became instantly angered and aroused. Often when they were children they had gotten into terrible fights because Pierro had called him that.
“Well, I’ve got an isolated island,” Nick said sardonically, glaring at Pierro. “I bought one and I’m having a shack put up on it. You want to lease it? You might be able to actually get some work done down there. Actually create something, instead of always talking about it. And what a great form of art it is.”
“What do you know about art?” Pierro said aloofly.
“I’ve got feeling, I can tell you that,” Nick said. “I can tell a good painting when I see it. I can tell good writing when I read it. There’s fury and vitality and honesty—self exposure in real art. That’s something I don’t think you learned at LIT. And I doubt if you’ll ever learn it.”
“You’re feeling your liquor again,” Pierro said.
“How would you know what it’s like to feel liquor? Or anything else?”
“They have been doing this since they were tiny boys,” Old Gus said to Marci, smiling. Gus had on his only suit, which was a used gabardine that he had bought down on Maxwell Street from a suit vendor for four dollars. With the suit he wore a blue work-shirt and a brown tie. “They fight, then when the fi
rst of them dies the other will do the most of the crying at the funeral,” Old Gus said.
“Do not talk about death at a wedding,” Little Joe of the one eye said seriously. “You want to messa up this marriage before she begins?”
“I’ve never heard anyone play the zither as beautifully as you, Marci said to Old Gus. “I would love to hear you play again sometime.”
“Did you really buy an island?” Nora whispered to Nick. Nora was drinking rapidly now.
“Yes.”
“Where did you get the money?”
“It’s a small island and was cheap,” Nick said. Then smiled. “Be respectful, woman. I’m in real estate now.”
“Could we come by your shack some night?” Marci asked Gus. “Will you play for us?”
“Any time,” Old Gus said.
“You’ll take me, won’t you, Pierro?”
“If you like,” Pierro said as if preoccupied.
“Nick,” Nora said, “you promised to take me, too. But you mustn’t play all sad songs,” she looked at Gus. “I’m afraid I’d cry if you did.”
“It is good to cry sometimes,” Old Gus said. “Ask Nick. He cries whenever he feels like it. In front of anyone.”
“I don’t believe it,” Nora said.
“Then you don’t know him,” Gus said in a kindly voice.
“It’s true,” Nick said. “I cry easy. I cry mostly, though, when I am extremely happy, which is rare. I cry because I don’t want the happiness to end.”
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