Felicia and Marie walked through Grand Central Station on their way to Joe’s apartment on East 57th Street. Marie wore a long-sleeved royal blue and white one-piece culotte garment created by Angela. It was a sunny September Saturday with a hint of fall in the air. Autumn in New York was refreshing after a hot steamy summer. The entire city took on a rejuvenated feel as people sauntered through green areas and lifted their faces to the sun to take in rays of renewal.
“Can we go to a museum?” asked Marie.
“I don’t think we want to spend today in a museum. It’s such a beautiful day.”
Marie was accustomed to the subject of her mother’ and uncle’s conversation. They consistently engaged in family gossip whenever they met. They would talk about Marie’s step-grandmother and grandfather, aunts and uncles, and any cousins who were misbehaving. All family members were gossip fodder; no one was spared from their criticism and judgment. If Marie were lucky, she would be able to steer the conversation in a more favorable direction.
The doorman swung the door open for Marie and her mother. He dialed the phone in the lobby.
“Sir, your sister-in-law and niece are here.”
The doorman wore a bright red full-length coat with brass buttons and a matching red hat. Marie thought his outfit looked like something you would find in a vintage shop in Greenwich Village. Most of the buildings in the mid to upper East Side had doormen and concierges.
Joe was waiting for them with his apartment door open as they exited the elevator.
“Hello, my darlings, it’s so good to see you,” said Joe.
The small apartment’s walls were covered with modern and contemporary art. A large, generous couch with plush chairs surrounded a glass coffee table. Wine and martini glasses hung over the bar.
“I have made some coffee. Care for a cup?”
“Yes, that would be fine,” said Felicia.
“Sure,” said Marie.
“Marie, that is a fabulous outfit—very young and fun.”
“Aunt Angela made it for me,” said Marie. It seemed to Marie that Angela attended get-togethers through her creations.
“I have a shirt she made me years ago,” said Joe. “I can’t bring myself to throw it out.”
They started to talk about Joe’s sister, Alicia.
“I don’t know what she’s going to do if she gains any more weight,” said Joe. “She won’t get a man that way.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Sometimes she asks Dick and me for money.”
“Nunzio gave her money one time, but she never paid us back,” said Felicia. “I’m still waiting for it.”
Marie used this window of opportunity. “Would you mind if I went out and walked around the neighborhood? I’m doing a sociology project for school about the development of the East Side of New York. The library isn’t far.”
“Be back in an hour for lunch,” said Felicia.
“She could meet us at the restaurant,” said Joe.
“That’s a great idea,” said Marie.
“No, it’s not. Be back here in an hour. Understand?”
“Better listen to mama,” said Joe. He lifted his cup in a toast.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie made a right onto 57th Street, walked to 5th Avenue and then headed toward 42nd Street. She had walked New York streets since she was seven years old, and the experience was consistently the same: she felt confident and light. Marie planned to apply to colleges in Manhattan for an early acceptance. It didn’t matter what college and she wasn’t sure of her major, but she was adamant about living in the city. She made a right onto 42nd Street and entered Bryant Park. It was filled with New Yorkers and tourists taking pictures. Marie sat on a bench and wondered how she could make the next two years in high school bearable. She would have to spend as much time as she could in Manhattan, and once she got accepted into college, she would spend little time in class.
Marie felt the warmth of the sun on her head. She lifted her face and allowed the rays to permeate her skin. The temperature was rising, and the diaphanous material on her sleeves stuck to her arms. She looked at the shiny gold buttons on her cuffs. The buttonholes were meticulously made by hand. Angela’s garments echoed her delicate sensibility and strength.
She wondered how long it would take for Felicia and Joe to go through every member of the family and discuss their faults and put their lives under the microscope of criticism. They both enjoyed gossip, and Felicia’s mood usually lightened after they sufficiently disapproved of everyone in the family. On this glorious day with the sun shining down, Marie got to take in Manhattan on her own terms.
Marie glanced at her watch. If there was anything Felicia hated it was tardiness, believing that if you wanted to be successful in life, you had to be on time—no exceptions. Marie observed people as they sauntered by. People holding maps pointed and looked up at the famous library. They were fleeting figures that spoke Italian, French, and Spanish. She looked up at the sun, and in her mind’s eye she saw shadows of people who once occupied the same space. These images were superimposed over the present day, but felt like they were from another century: men in black hats, high collars, and suits. The women wore long dresses and elaborate hats. A feeling of expansiveness pervaded Marie’s body as if a spotlight were flipped on, lighting up the cells of her body. She looked at her watch and decided to go in the library.
She browsed the exhibits that displayed the history of the library. As she stood in front of an old map of New York, a woman and her college-aged son stood beside her.
“Now I’ve told you, keep your nose in your studies at Columbia. Your father and I are spending a lot of money on your education. If you want to get into Columbia Law School when you graduate, you will need to do well as an undergrad.”
Marie looked at the young man. He wore a loose jacket over a t-shirt and jeans. He smiled sheepishly at Marie and shrugged his shoulders.
“It sounds familiar,” said Marie.
The mother and son turned to leave the library. The young man looked back at Marie with a grin that lifted her spirit. His warm brown eyes glistened as the sun streamed in from the library windows. It was comforting to Marie that someone had the same mother she had, just different bodies.
On her way back to Joe’s apartment, she stopped at a street vendor and bought a blue headband that matched her outfit. It was a nice touch, she thought.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This is a lovely place,” said Felicia. “I think I’ll have a highball.”
“Ooh, that sounds good, except I’ll have a Martini,” said Joe. He put his cigarette in a holder and lit up.
“I’d like a sherry,” said Marie.
“You’ll have a Coke,” said Felicia.
“Waiter,” said Joe, “the young lady will have a Coke.”
Her uncle had deferred to her mother ever since Marie could remember, fearing her wrath. Felicia was the only person Joe never criticized.
“Where did you get the headband?” asked Felicia.
“I bought it from a street vendor. It matches my outfit.”
“Where did you get the money?”
“Aunt Angela gave me money to spend.”
Felicia did not like Angela giving her children money. She believed that Angela spoiled them and that everyone should make their own luck. After Nunzio died, Felicia reentered the workforce and became successful. No one helped me, she thought. Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth. She had connected with an attorney in town who hired her, then assisted her in getting her job at the title company. She did not have to pay rent, and Angela and Franco helped her whenever she needed it.
“As I was saying at the apartment,” Joe said. “I think my sister will die of a heart attack one day. And my stepmother, don’t get me started on her.”
“I want to go to college here,” said Marie. She was hoping to interject herself into the conversation to keep the boredom at bay.
“Alicia called me last week asking me about the kids and how they were doing,” said Felicia. “But I don’t think she’s actually interested.”
“She’s such a phony. I’m always giving her money, too.”
“I said I’m going to college here,” said Marie.
“If you get accepted,” Felicia said.
Felicia and Joe continued with their intense conversation as if they were deciding the fate of the world. Next on the chopping block was her cousin, Alicia’s daughter.
“Helena is a cold tomato. All she does is take—rarely gives anything. How is your food, Marie?“ asked Joe. “I hope you like it.”
“It’s wonderful.” Marie loved her uncle but made a mental note to never interact with people whose only conversation was gossip. It seemed that they needed to express all their frustrations in one communication before they exploded. Marie looked at her watch and prayed that they did not order dessert.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Marie and Felicia got home, they knew Angela had made dinner from the aroma on the porch. Andrea and Frank were already sitting at the table. Angela was waiting for them with a homemade pizza.
“Felicia, I have dinner ready.”
“How was your visit with Joe?” asked Angela.
“He’s doing well,” said Felicia. “He’s getting ready for a trip to London.”
“Did you enjoy yourself, Marie?” asked Angela.
“Wonderful. It’s great being in the city. I’ll be going to go to college there.” She wanted to say that she had spent the day listening to two pent-up people who, to relieve their frustrations, shot energetic bullets at people with whom they disapproved.
“That is, if we can afford it,” said Felicia. “I don’t know why you want to do that.”
“I think she wants to take a chance,” said Angela, winking at Marie.
Felicia was silent. Angela put ideas in Marie’s head that she thought were unstable. What if living in Manhattan did not work out. What then?
“If you do that,” said Felicia. “Don’t come crying to me if it doesn’t work out. You’ll need to make it on your own.”
All of Felicia’s children were independent thinkers, and she often chastised them, thinking that was a good thing. Felicia wanted to present herself as more conservative so the pendulum would not swing too far to the right or left. She believed balance should always be maintained, regardless of the situation and who was involved.
“I had to take a chance when I married your uncle. I made the choice to come to America and begin a new life, even though I did not know what to expect. The experiences that made up my new life were some of the hardest years of my life. No path is paved in gold, but now when I look at all of you, I can say that it was worth it.”
“Thanks, Aunt Angela,” said Marie.
Felicia wished Angela did not compare her former situation to present day. It was a different time and place. Her blatant acceptance of Marie’s ideas interfered with Felicia’s authority.
“On Monday I need to do a closing on a house in Yorktown,” said Felicia. “I’ll have to figure out how to get there.”
“Be careful driving,” said Angela.
After dinner, Angela put a Caruso record on the record player. The tenor sang “Santa Lucia,” and Angela began to hum. She and Franco collected Caruso records over the years, and she still enjoyed the clear, powerful voice that sang about Italy and its sweet places. It was not that she was nostalgic or even wished to return; it was just a reminder of her past and how far she had come.
“What are you doing, Aunt Angela?” asked Marie. “I heard your Caruso record.”
“I’m just cleaning up,” said Angela. “You can do your homework at my desk in the sitting room if you want.”
“I don’t have much homework,” said Marie. “Caruso must remind you of home.”
“It’s a reminder. This is my home, here with you. I’m glad you had a good time with your uncle,” said Angela. “He had so little growing up. I’m glad he has a lot now.”
“I know I’ll live in New York someday,” said Marie.
“As long as you are going to school,” said Angela. “You have developed your vision. That is a good thing.”
“Vision is not going to get me into college,” said Marie.
“No, but you can use it in school to see beyond what most people see. That’s how you stand out.”
“What did you and your uncle talk about?” asked Angela.
“Uncle Joe and Mom talked about family stuff mostly. I went out for a walk. I really wasn’t part of the conversation.”
Angela was pleased with the relationship between Felicia and Joe. She felt it helped hold the family together, since Joe had an interest in family members and all the gossip. She had secretly not wanted Felicia to remarry so the children would remain at Morning Glory Avenue. Angela concerned herself with the children and did not meddle in Felicia’s personal life. Sometimes the children would ask Angela if their mother had dates, and Angela would tell them that was their mother’s concern and not the family’s.
“Why didn’t you stay and talk?”
“Because it was all gossip. I really wanted to go out in New York and have fun. They were talking about Aunt Alicia and her daughter. You should have seen them; it was as if someone had speeded up a film. They were so frenetic. Nobody wanted to talk about what I was doing or who I was, so I went to Bryant Park and the library.”
“Try not to be so hard on your mother and uncle. They do their best. Next time, meet him for lunch by yourself.”
“Why don’t you come with me to see Uncle Joe?” asked Marie.
Angela had encouraged the relationship between Marie and Joe because she knew that Joe could provide an alternative to life in Nelsonville. She believed that to expand into a life of possibility, one needed to reach beyond the home environment. This was the opportunity Angela felt Marie needed.
“I’m too old to be walking around New York City,” said Angela. “I’ve done my share of visiting the city. It is too noisy and dirty for me. Besides, my legs do not work the way they used to. I want you to benefit from the connection.”
“I had a strange experience while I was there.”
“What was it?”
“I closed my eyes, and I could see people who were dressed in old clothing— something out of the Victorian Age. They were superimposed on present day. It was brief, so there were not many details. It was like…”
“Staring into the mirror,” said Angela.
“So, I can do this at will?”
“When you close your eyes, you can drift and see where it takes you, but remember you also live in the real world. You have to walk between them.”
Marie felt liberated that her sight was not dependent on any object. The mirror was just a tool to access deeper knowledge and information.
“Once I get my early acceptance to college, I won’t have to spend much time in classes, so I’ll spend more time the in city.”
“Look at these pictures,” said Angela, walking over to the buffet. “This is Uncle Franco and me in front of our first house in Nelsonville. We lived there with your great-grandmother and your grandmother.”
“You don’t regret immigrating to America?”
“It was the right choice, even though there were many disappointments and tragedies. It was worth it because you were born, and I can help you live a good life and make the right choices. You kids are everything to me.”
“We’re lucky to have you, Aunt Angela,” said Marie. “Anyway, can I make a sandwich to take with me tomorrow for school? Mom only has tuna upstairs.”
“I have mozzarella and tomato,” said Angela.
“That sounds good,” said Marie. “You’ve led an exotic life. My life will look small in comparison.”
“You can create your life the way you want. What do you want your life to be?”
“I can be adventurous and travel, meet new people, and be surprised where I end up.”
“Within reason, I don’t see why not. I hope you get everything you want. Now let’s make your sandwich.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The world was now such a radically different place from Angela’s youth that when she got impressions of the past, they were faded. Her attitude had changed toward fashion, personal relationships, and war.
She closed the front door, and the hall clock chimed 3pm. Knowing the kids would be home from school soon, she prepared biscotti and tea.
Andrea and Marie walked up the stairs to the side porch.
“Do you want something to eat?” asked Angela.
“No, tell Mom that I will be home when the streetlights come on,” said Andrea. “I won’t be home for dinner.”
“You are not going out. I will call your mother at the office if you do that. Come in and have something to eat now. Eat all you want,” said Angela. “You won’t have dinner until your mother gets home.”
“I won’t be hungry for dinner,” said Marie after eating some biscotti. “This is enough for me.”
“You have to eat more. You don’t want to get too skinny,” Angela said.
“I don’t want anything. I’m supposed to meet my friends,” said Andrea.
Out of all four of the children, Andrea was the most rebellious. When Speranza’s daughter Alicia insisted on marrying someone who had a reputation for abusing women, she married him anyway. Andrea had that same stubborn disposition of defiance. Angela had let Alicia slide, but she was not going to do that with Andrea.
“Andrea, go upstairs and start your homework and wait for your mother to come home or I’ll have her come home now,” said Angela.
Andrea stamped her feet all the way up the back stairs.
“Mom always has to keep on her,” said Marie.
“Andrea has a temper,” said Angela. “It’s good she can stand up for herself, but she can get into trouble.”
“I know. I can’t believe she made it through Catholic school through the eighth grade. Did you have clients today?” asked Marie.
“No, I have two clients tonight. How was school?” asked Angela.
“Ok. Mostly just boring,” said Marie. “I know college will be better.”
“You will meet a lot of new people,” said Angela. “You just have to have confidence.”
“Did you ever doubt that you could make dresses for people?”
“No, after the quality of work I saw when I came to this country, I had no doubt that I would have clients. I had a story to tell along with my sewing abilities. Mrs. Einbinder, one of my clients, once said that she would write about my life. She was a playwright in Germany before she immigrated, but because of the war, it never happened. Maybe you will write it one day.”
A bang came from upstairs.
“What’s she doing up there?” asked Marie.
Angela opened the door to the back stairs. “Andrea, what are you doing? What fell?”
“The iron dropped,” called Andrea. “I’m fine.”
“Marie, go up and see what she is doing.”
Marie went up the back stairs.
Angela thought about her nephew Robert and where he might be. She often worried about him. Angela heard Felicia’s car pulling into the driveway and watched as she got out of the car and came up the side steps.
“Are the girls home?” asked Felicia. “Frank said he was staying in the city tonight.”
“Upstairs. Andrea dropped an iron, so I don’t know what she’s doing up there.”
“Any news from Robert?” asked Angela.
“I talked to a lawyer at work, and he has recommended a lawyer who takes on these cases if we need it—but I don’t think we will. I made a few calls, and it seems that our Captain Bonifice has been receiving money from families whose sons want to avoid the draft.”
“We’ll have to invite him for that dinner.”
Later that evening, Mrs. Einbinder came to a dress fitting. The Vietnam War was a topic discussed by the two women since its inception. Not everyone supported the war, and Mrs. Einbinder was happy that there were protests and outspoken dissention. Angela agreed and told Mrs. Einbinder about her nephew’s plight.
“It’s good that he’s a conscientious objector,” said Mrs. Einbinder. “If more young men left the country, then they would have less men to fight—and a strong statement would be made.”
“World War II changed Nunzio,” said Angela. “He really never came home. I tried to pretend that he was the same, but he was not.”
“And now with the advanced weapons, it will be a lot worse for the men fighting this war,” said Mrs. Einbinder.
“I wish Robert would let us know where he is,” said Angela. “It would make me feel better.”
“I’m sure he’ll get in touch when it’s safe,” said Mrs. Einbinder.
Felicia came in the front door carrying a thick folder.
“What is that?” asked Angela.
“Work that I didn’t get to today,” said Felicia as she walked toward the stairs.
“Should we invite Captain Bonifice for dinner next week?”
“Definitely,” Felicia nodded.