“I don’t blame them for not going to war,” said Angela. “It’s no way to live.”
“We always had war in Europe,” said Lizzy. “It was tough.”
“Why do we want it to be tough here?” asked Angela. “Have we not had enough of war?”
“What do you mean? We can’t let the Communists take over,” said Lizzy as she cut herself another piece of cake. “They fight for our freedom.”
“You don’t believe that,” said Angela. “They fight because our government wants something. The big corporations make money from war—become richer. We are no better than any country that wants more.”
Angela was forthright with her ideas with Sadie and Lizzy; the rest of the Italian-American community tended to be more closed-minded and ultra conservative. Angela felt Lizzy was repeating what she was told as a young person and sensed that she did not believe the words in her heart.
“I hope Robert comes home and the authorities leave him alone,” said Lizzy. “I know you and Felicia must be worried. The government is powerful, and they do what they want.”
“Robert always was a free spirit,” Angela said as she poured tea.
“We have to be who we are,” said Lizzy. “People find out anyway.”
“That depends on how much you want them to find out,” Angela said.
Angela heard someone running down the back stairs. The door swung open and Marie appeared.
“My bread dough is rising; please don’t run down the stairs,” said Angela. “The dough will fall.” She often put her rising dough in the back stairway.
“Sorry, Aunt.” Marie kissed Angela on the cheek. Angela held Marie’s chin and kissed her on both cheeks.
“I love you,” said Angela. “I love that you are simpatico. Going to school today?”
Marie had planned to take the early morning train to New York. It was Friday, and she was tired of boring classes.
“Yeah, on my way,” said Marie. “Early visit today, Lizzy.”
“Oh, yeah. I don’t sleep much.”
“Are you sure?” asked Angela. “You do not have any books.”
“They’re in my locker,” said Marie.
“All of them?” asked Angela.
Marie saw that Angela knew she was either going to New York or horseback riding at the dude ranch. Angela’s lifted chin and raised eyebrows let Marie know that she was waiting for a better story.
“Well, ok,” said Marie. “I thought I’d go into New York and visit City College. I should get to know the campus and see what goes on.”
“You have been there, and students are going to class,” said Angela. “That is what is going on.”
“Please don’t say anything,” said Marie. “It seems like a waste of time to go to class here.”
“If you spend the day with me while I visit some friends, then my lips will not tell your secret,” said Angela. “This will be our special secret.”
“Fine.” Marie smiled.
“I’d better get home so you two can start your day,” said Lizzy as she leaned on the table and pushed herself to her feet.
Angela disappeared into her bedroom. Marie hopped up on the platform that stood in front of her aunt’s dressmaking mirror in the hall, which reminded her of a platform for a statue that you would see in museums.
Marie confidently projected her awareness into the mirror. She felt a rush of energy from the mirror pulling her into the reflected space. She entered the looking glass’s space with a swish, and its vastness embraced her. She assumed that everyone had their own personal experience when they entered the portal. Marie was alone in the white empty environment with a tinge of sunny yellow that surrounded her like a blanket. The warmth of the yellow felt uplifting and safe until it was swept away and morphed into a dark blue ocean with high waves in the distance. The wakes pushed her over. As quickly as she was pushed over, she found herself on her feet again. The waves came closer and closer, and they were about to envelop her.
“Are you ready to go?” asked Angela.
The force of the water pushed her back in her body again. She shook her head and refocused her eyes and found herself in the present. They walked up Morning Glory Avenue away from town and past houses that were built in the 1930s and 1940s. Marie drove past these houses regularly with her mother but hardly noticed them.
“Where are we going?” asked Marie.
“Just a few more blocks,” said Angela.
Angela held Marie’s elbow as they walked. They were silent as they sauntered, seeming to float above the sidewalk and allowing their connection to move them along.
“I want to show you a house,” said Angela.
“Do we know the people who live there?”
“No, not now.”
“So, we’re not going inside?”
“Stop asking so many questions,” said Angela. “You do not always have to know where you are going. Let it be a mystery.”
“Mystery? I could be in the city enjoying Greenwich Village. I never know who I will meet, but I know where I’m going. That is a mystery.” Marie was taught by both the educational system and her mother that you had to know where you were going and what you were going to do once you got there. It was not comfortable to be in limbo.
“Here it is,” said Angela.
“What, this house? Why are we here?”
“Your Uncle Franco built this house,” said Angela.
“He built it?”
“He designed it and hired people to do the work. He did a lot of work on it himself.”
“I didn’t know he built this house.”
“An important man in town hired him to create it,” said Angela. “Your uncle could do anything.”
The house was gray with a rounded porch that stretched around the back. There were three floors with a small balcony off the second floor.
“It’s different from our house. Why didn’t he build something similar?”
“Because our house was built in 1888. That kind of construction is too expensive today. Our stained-glass windows were imported. This is what people could afford in the 1930s. It was during the Depression.”
Marie thought it elegant in its simplicity.
“How could anyone afford to build this during the Depression? It seems that you and Uncle Franco always had work during the Depression, while many were in bread lines.”
“We have always been independent since we came to this country. We had a garden and our own chickens, and our clients were loyal. There is always work around somewhere. Then the Second World War came and pulled us out of the Depression.”
“The war pulled us out?”
“Yes, many prospered during the war, especially those who sold tanks and other war equipment to the Nazis. Most Americans had no idea. The war brought more employment for everyone.”
“It must be common knowledge that he made money from equipment that killed America soldiers.”
“You would think so, but everyone was so united during WWII that it did not make headlines.”
“That’s outrageous. They don’t teach that in history class.”
“It’s all about making money,” Angela said. “They won’t teach that in school.”
“No one protested? People must have known.”
“It was not common knowledge,” Angela said. Remember it was the 1940s, and the patriotic spirit was at its height.”
Marie took a deep breath and looked at the house.
Are there fireplaces in this house?” asked Marie.
“Just a small one made of brick in the living room.”
“How long did it take to build?” asked Marie.
“About a year. I love walking by here and seeing your uncle’s work. This was his vision. He loved our house, but he did not build it.”
“Amazing he could bring this house into form. He didn’t have any training as an architect?”
“No, but he was persistent and practiced all the right skills,” said Angela. “He also knew people who would help him.”
“Why didn’t you show me this house before?”
“You are able to appreciate it now. Besides, soon you will be in college, and it will challenge your persistence. Like this house, you can build a solid foundation; then you will be successful. This house has been here for almost forty years.”
Marie often felt exasperated with her aunt when she was obtuse. Angela’s life lessons were buried in storytelling, but Marie felt she should be more forthright.
“So, I should build a solid foundation. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I think with persistence and study, you can achieve your goals. You should not be afraid of anything. Your uncle had never built a house on his own before, but he did it. You come from a long line of builders. It just takes time.”
“I don’t really know what my goals are exactly. I know I love history and would like to major in that subject.”
“I think that would suit you.”
Angela hugged Marie and thought about Speranza, her sister-in-law. Speranza had little opportunity in life, and now her granddaughter was planning a life that would have been entirely out of the question for her grandmother. Even Angela’s own experience as a business owner was something that would have been unachievable had she stayed in Sicily. Angela would often tell herself that her father would have been proud of what she had achieved in America. She remembered her father bringing home remnants of silk from his travels and her mother making garments and linens. To this day, Angela still made her own tablecloths and napkins.
“What do you think?” asked Angela.
Marie stared at the ground in silence.
“About the house?”
“That or anything that comes to mind. What are you thinking about?”
“Well… I had another experience, or it was kind of an experience and I’m not sure…”
“Speak up,” said Angela.
“I had an experience with the mirror again before we left,” said Marie.
“Did you stare into the mirror?” asked Angela. “What did you see?”
“Everything was fine at first, but then there were rough waves that almost got me. It was like they spit me out of the mirror.”
“Sounds like the energies were testing you.”
“Testing me? For what?”
“Maybe for the next part of your life. To see how strong you are. To see if you can tolerate the current. Sometimes I think of the images as a reflection of what is inside us.”
“What else could I see in there?”
“You have to be prepared for things that could frighten you,” said Angela.
“Are dead people in there?” asked Marie. “You talk to people who are dead.”
“Do not say that out loud,” Angela said. “People will condemn you. Keep it to yourself.”
“Uncle Joe said you used to talk to his mother after she died, and you talk to the Virgin Mary. You have an altar devoted to her.”
“I never discuss my connections with the world we cannot see unless it is necessary. It is best that way, and I think you should do the same. Look forward, not in the past. It is time to go home,” said Angela. “You need to go to school.”
They walked a block in silence. Angela wondered if she should explore deeper into what Marie saw. She did not want to open Pandora’s box. She wanted her niece to move ahead in her life unencumbered, but she could not hold back.
“What do you think the waves were about?” asked Angela.
“I don’t know,” said Marie. “It was like coming home at first. There were lots of colors and a warmth coming from the mirror. But then there were high waves that shoved me out of the mirror. It was strange.”
“Maybe what was in the mirror did not want you there, or your experience was finished.”
“Could you always talk to the dead? Why don’t you talk about it more?”
“I have had a connection to the unseen world since I was a child, and I learned to be careful who I shared it with. I told a priest once when I was child that I talked to people who had died and wanted to communicate with the living. He told me I was blasphemous and to say an entire rosary, and then he told my mother what I had said. She said it was the work of the devil and I was never to speak of it again. You should be aware with whom you share your experiences. The church thinks it has a monopoly on spiritual communication,” Angela said. “They’re used to people going through them.”
For more than fifty years, Angela’s clients had stood in front of her mirror. Maybe the mirror’s interior landscape was affected by who stood in front of it, she thought. Her clients came from various backgrounds: Jewish, Italian, American. She had clients who had been with her for a few years, others who had used her services for the decades since she’d started her business. Maybe their histories were embedded in the mirror. She often thought about her plan for the mirror when she retired from making garments for the public—how she would take it to the backyard and smash it, then bury it next to her garden. The ghosts of the past would be set free.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Do I have to go to school? I could still catch a train to the city,” said Marie.
“Make an appearance at school,” said Angela. “Just show your face, please. We have enough trouble with your brother Robert. Do that for me and your mother. And do not talk to the dead; talk to the living.”
“All right,” said Marie. “But tomorrow I’m going to the city all day.”
“You always have to have the last word,” said Angela. “That is not always necessary. Just keep your focus and build a strong foundation.”
Showing Marie Franco’s construction was an intuitive act. Her nephews Frank and Robert knew about the house, but it was more profound to show Marie what could be accomplished when one took risks. Angela had become successful beyond her dreams by coming to the United States, but the nuns had given her the appropriate foundation.
Marie entered the front door at Nelsonville High School and went to her locker, expecting another monotonous day. She straightened her yellow linen dress and walked down the hall.
“Oh, Marie, I haven’t seen you in a while,” said Alice, one of Marie’s friends.
“Yeah, I have had to take care of my aunt. Sometimes she doesn’t feel well, and we don’t want to leave her alone.”
“You’re not a good friend. You ignore us, and honestly, we were all saying how weird you are. My father works in the city and he says he sees you sometimes going into Manhattan, so maybe your aunt isn’t unwell. That’s weird.”
“I’m really sorry.” Marie felt she was in the wrong and that she needed to repent for her absence. Maybe she should make more of an effort.
“If you’re really sorry, you’ll wash all the blackboards at the end of school today. I was assigned to wash them because of some little mishap. If you do that, then you’re back in with our group.”
“All right.” She felt she could not say no. It was just a way of placating a dissatisfied energy.
“You’re the best,” said Alice as she walked away.
“Is anyone getting together after school?” called Marie. Alice did not turn around. Marie froze in her position and looked around to see if anyone overheard. She observed everyone chatting and going to class and did not understand the connection they all had.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Hello,” said Angela as she picked up the hall phone.
“It’s me,” said Robert.
“Robert, my God, we have been so worried,” said Angela. “It’s been six months. Where are you?”
“I can’t say, but I just wanted to let you know I’m okay.”
“The FBI came here.”
“That’s why I can’t tell you where I am. Is everyone alright?”
“Yes, fine. Your mother is at work. You should call her.”
“Just tell her I’m ok and working to get home.”
“When will you be home?”
“As soon as I can,” said Robert.
Angela heard a click, then silence.
“Hello, hello,” said Angela.
Angela hung up and called Felicia to tell her about Robert. At least they knew he was safe and would eventually come home. If he needed a lawyer, Felicia had connections in town with the best attorneys, but first she would invite Captain Bonifice to dinner. Everything will be all right, thought Angela. She felt the worry lift from her shoulders, and the energy that had been blocked with concern began to return. It was not a jolt but a steady brightening of the cells of her body.
Angela took a deep breath and began to plan a Sunday luncheon for family and friends. It was time, she thought. In the time since Franco died and the issues with Robert and the draft, she had felt suppressed and defeated, but now she felt she had turned a corner and a barrier had been broken. Robert would not have the experience of war that his father suffered. Robert would come home, and the unpopular Vietnam War would end. She went into the kitchen to make a list of what she would need for her luncheon.