“Throw yourself a happily-ever-after party. Show the world how it’s done. That’s right. And you watch how fast your Peachy finds her own Al DePino. If you lead with gratitude, the world changes its attitude! I won a cross stitch at my church drawing with that saying on it, and it’s true. When you’re grateful, life opens up and offers you the very thing you dreamed of. Now, my feet hurt. We’ll see you all back in South Philly.”
Nicky and Hortense walked up Garibaldi Avenue to find the sedan parked by the grandstand where they’d left it. The party was over, the stands abandoned, the streets empty, the carnival lights dark. The air was still, the decorative flags that rippled earlier that day lay flat and uninspired. Even the stage did not look as impressive as it had that morning, filled with important people. The parade floats had taken a beating. The truth was, they all had.
Nicky and Hortense could hear the DePinos and Palazzinis arguing in the distance, but it did not faze them. Nicky held the door for Hortense, and she climbed in. He slipped into the driver’s seat, and soon they were headed down Garibaldi. The DePinos and the Palazzinis, still in the heat of their argument, didn’t notice when they passed.
“Do you care if I make a stop?” Nicky asked Hortense, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“Why do you even ask me? You’re driving.”
“I won’t be long. Or, I will be.”
Nicky pulled up in front of Mamie Confalone’s house. He made it to the screen door and saw Augie in his pajamas at the kitchen table reading a book, while Mamie did the dishes at the sink. He rapped softly on the screen.
Mamie turned, saw Nicky, put aside the dish in the drainer, and came to the door. She looked back at her son and then slipped out onto the porch.
“I wanted to say good-bye. And I wanted to thank you. You saved us back there.”
“You would’ve done it for me.” Mamie buried her hands in her apron pockets.
“I’m glad you know that.” Nicky smiled.
“Last night . . . ,” she began.
He blushed. “What can we say about last night?”
“I don’t know that we should ever say a word about it,” Mamie said tenderly.
It took Nicky a second to understand what Mamie meant. “You don’t want to see me again?”
Mamie smiled. “I live here. And I always will.”
“We could,” he began to muse, “make a plan. Philly is close. We could meet?”
Mamie shook her head. “We shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I was fragile, and so were you. When you fall in love, Nicky, it has to be from a place of strength. It has to be because you want to build something, not because you need to cling to someone to shore you up or save you.”
“I can be strong for you,” Nicky argued.
“You will be strong, and so will she, when you find her someday. But I thank you. You were lovely last night. I thought romance was over for me in every way. I was closed off to any possibilities. And I didn’t think I’d ever find my way back to anything close to what we shared.”
“It meant everything to me too, Mamie.”
“I know that it did. So let’s take that into whatever we become and treasure it.”
Nicky wanted to argue with her, to convince her that they belonged together. He wanted to make a case for them as a couple, but he was beginning to understand what she was saying, what it meant, and why it mattered. It didn’t mean he had to accept it. Maybe she needed time. Maybe she just wasn’t ready.
Mamie kissed him on the cheek.
“Mama!” Augie called out for his mother.
“I have to go.” Mamie touched the cheek she had just kissed and went inside.
Hortense had been observing the scene, but she snapped her neck in the opposite direction as Nicky approached the car.
“Are we finally going back to Philadelphia?” she complained.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Just the two of us?” Hortense asked.
Nicky did not answer. As he pulled out onto the street, he looked in the rearview mirror and caught Eddie Davanzo’s police car as it pulled up in front of Mamie’s house. For a moment he thought to go back, in case there was a problem, but he thought better of it and kept driving.
“Just keep moving until you see the Hot Shoppe in Germantown. No more pit stops.”
“That was important.”
“How so?
“You’ll see.”
“What am I gonna see?”
“Mamie Confalone.”
“And who?”
“And me.”
Hortense chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“You gonna move to Roseto?”
“No.”
“She’s going to move to Philly?”
“She might. You never know.”
“You asked her?”
“No.”
“You met her kid?”
“No.”
“And he was right inside the house, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was.”
“But she didn’t introduce you to her kid. Nicky. Face it. You were a meltaway.”
“A what?”
“A meltaway. A delicious candy unwrapped in the moment that lasts exactly as long as it is meant to, which is to say, until it’s gone.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to. Eventually the truth will make it obvious. Like those plays you love so very much in the theater—when you’re in the seat hearing the story, they matter, and in a couple hours it’s over. Another meltaway. The truth is, this whole weekend was a meltaway. We are going back to real life—the costume goes back to the shop, this pin goes back in the drawer, your accent dries up, and we go back to work. You can’t make pretend real.”
“I had something with Mamie. It was real.”
“Whatever happened between you and Mamie Confalone was made of spun sugar and air. It was sweet, and you tasted it. When you had it, you had it, but now you don’t, and it will never be yours again.”
Nicky was relieved when Hortense went off to sleep. It took a few seconds, really. A couple of snorts and she was snoring. What did she know about Mamie? About the two of them? Mrs. Mooney was old and wizened and didn’t understand young love. He wished he had never broached the subject with her. What was he thinking?
As Nicky drove along the silver river with a pink sky overhead, he was driving toward home, and yet the route felt unfamiliar. He was lost, and now he was broken, a penance for the sin of impersonating the Ambassador, or perhaps for taking a chance with a beautiful girl as lovely as Mamie without knowing where it would lead. The thought of Montrose Street and Car No. 4 was history to him now. His life as he knew it before the Jubilee was over. Now who was the impostor?
*
Calla pushed the front door of her house open with her hip. She carried a bag of fresh peaches in a brown paper bag, her father’s favorite fruit.
“Dad?” she called out. “I’m back. Got your peaches. I already ate two.” She looked back to the kitchen, where she saw his coffee cup on the table. She went into the kitchen and called out for him again. She touched the coffee cup. It was warm. She looked out the window to the garden.
Calla saw her father lying on the ground. She dropped the peaches, which rolled out of the bag and across the wooden floor. She ran outside, stumbling over a stepstool and the rigging for the awning that went over the walkway off the back porch.