theresa
ia had something going on in the kitchen that smelled like meat. I was still hungry but didn’t pause long enough to ask what was bubbling. Valentina stood in the tiny parking lot, by the dumpster, filling her glass. She had the bottle out to fill me up before I had two feet out the door.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“You’re the one who waited around ten years. What do you want?”
“I want my life back.” She put the bottle on top of a car.
“You gave it up because you didn’t like it.”
“The life before he was consigliere for his father. This one I’m talking about. He was very nice. He was a sweet man.”
Nice. Sweet. Was she talking about someone else? Her eyes were cloudy, and she held on to the edge of the gate to steady herself. Wine was indeed a bad idea.
“Antonio’s a lot of things,” I said. “Sweet isn’t one of them.”
“He used to bring me strawberries, in summer, from the fruit vendor on Via Scotto. So expensive. And beautiful. He took the leaves off and fed them to me.”
I imagined that was true. Of course he’d bring gifts and tributes. It was the sweet part that tripped me up. He must have had the act down pat. He’d wanted this gentle girl and lied to himself to have her.
“He brushed my hair.” She touched it, remembering in a drunken stupor. “Every night. When I had headaches or felt faint, he rubbed my forehead until I fell asleep. If I was tired, he carried me up the steps, and he sang to me. He can’t sing a note, did you know? He’s terrible.”
She smiled to herself and sniffed. She didn’t seem stupid or easily fooled. Valentina was heartbroken and drunk, but I didn’t think Antonio could lie to her about who he was. It was possible that somewhere in that bossy, demanding, vicious man, there was a gentle, sweet husband who brushed his wife’s hair and brought her strawberries.
“I’m sorry, Valentina,” I said. “I think that’s all in the past now.”
She continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “And he changed. I drove him away. I threw him away. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I dreamed he’d change and I’d go back to him, but I knew it was crazy, and now it’s not so crazy.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “He’s in there.” She poked her chest. “And now I take responsibility. You are young. You seem all right. Maybe you don’t have to be a troia? Maybe you can find your own man? Because I’m going to have my husband again. I waited ten years. I can take as many more as I need.” She raised her finger as if making her point, but when she took her hand off the hood of the car, she wobbled and put her hand back.
“He’s mine.” I spoke as gently as I could. We weren’t going to have a catfight. I had no time for it. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to scratch your eyes out or anything like that, but when you sober up, you need to go home. To Naples.”
“Napoli,” she corrected. “Naaah-poh-lee.”
She let go of the car again, and when I caught her, she pushed me away and put all her weight on me at the same time.
Daniel rushed out from the restaurant. “Jesus, Tink, what’s going on?”
“What do you think? And stop calling me that.”
He got himself under Valentina, and she put her arms around his neck.
“I got a call from Gerry,” he said once he had Valentina properly balanced. “He put together a fundraiser tonight. I have to go prepare.”
“Good luck.”
He squinted in the winter sun, hair dropping in front of his forehead in the way I used to love. Valentina rested her head on his chest.
“Spin says she’s not a puker,” he said.
“So you guys talked.”
He nodded. “I had to tell him I wasn’t fucking his wife. Guy thing.”
“Ah. Well. Good luck tonight. With the fundraiser.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I think I ran out of juice. Even before that fiasco at the wedding, I lost energy for it. So I don’t know. ”