For eight months, Robert worked for a tile design company and rented a house with friends in Nelsonville with land to clandestinely grow and sell marijuana. He had learned construction and design from Franco, and he was now putting it to use.
Robert sat at the kitchen table on Morning Glory Avenue, where there was the usual chatter and activity in the house but with a lighter energy in the air. During the Christmas season, the house took on a glow and sense of anticipation. Angela burned apple skins on the stove for a rich aroma, and red candles were peppered throughout the dining room and hallway.
“Robert,” said Angela, “you have your own house now, so I want to give you a little money for Christmas.” She put a roll of bills in his shirt pocket and hugged him.
“Thank you, Aunt Angela,” said Robert. “But I have a good business and now I have a job, and they’re training me.”
“I still want to help you and contribute,” said Angela.
“Angela, are you ready to go shopping?” asked Felicia as she came down the back stairs. “Why are you giving him money?”
“Just a few dollars to get him started,” said Angela. “Felicia, I hope you do not mind. He is working so hard.”
Felicia knew about her son’s marijuana business. He had started selling weed in high school, and she had hoped that he would acquire business acumen and move on into a legitimate business venture. She disapproved of Angela’s handouts but realized growing up without a father had not been easy.
“Okay,” said Felicia, resigned. “I know that you mean well, but we should not make this a habit. You need your money.”
“Thanks, Aunt Angela,” said Robert. “I’ll put it to good use.”
“You need to be careful with that business of yours,” said Felicia. “What if you get arrested?”
“The police are my friends,” said Robert.
“So you think,” said Felicia. “You should concentrate on tile design and maybe start your own business someday.”
“I’m thinking about it.” Robert leaned back in his chair.
“Your Uncle Franco had his own business and so can you,” said Angela.
“Yes, but first establish yourself with your present job and learn the ropes,” said Felicia. “That is the best strategy. Don’t you agree, Angela?”
Angela believed in strategy, but sometimes you had to jump in and see where life took you. She knew that stability was important to Felicia, but one could also create stability by taking chances.
“Generally, I would agree; but if Robert feels he has the skills to start a business, maybe it is worth a try.”
“Really, Angela, why are you contradicting me? I have enough things to worry about.”
“It is best for Robert to make his own decisions.”
“And who will pick up the pieces when he goes bankrupt? I don’t agree with giving out money for failures, but you do.”
“I’m sitting right here,” interjected Robert. “I will start my business when I’m ready.”
Angela and Felicia looked at one another and remained silent for a moment.
“All right,” said Felicia. “I agree with that.”
Angela nodded.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next week, Mrs. Hubbard returned for her fitting. She began talking the minute Angela opened the door.
“Hello, Angela, I hope you don’t mind, but I had a few items in my storage that might interest you.” She placed her bag on the floor and pulled out two lion statues. “These are replicas of what are on top of the bell tower of the Messina Cathedral. They function similarly to the gargoyles. You will be reminded that your house is protected, but with images from Sicily.”
Angela knew the Messina Cathedral was built in the 12th century but destroyed in the earthquakes in 1783 and 1908 and again in a two-day fire from a bomb during World War II. Each time it had been rebuilt. She recalled a letter she had received from the Mother Superior in Palermo, saying that the cathedral had experienced a fire from a bombing.
“Much of the cathedral was destroyed during the earthquake in 1908,” said Angela. “I remembered walking through the area afterward.”
“Oh, I am so sorry you experienced that. I hope I didn’t bring up awful memories.”
“No, that is fine. I was visiting Sicily in 1929 and saw it restored, but I haven’t seen it since the war.”
“It has the largest astronomical clock in the world,” said Mrs. Hubbard. “It is quite beautiful to see.”
“You have been to Messina?”
“Yes, a few years ago my husband, who is an historian and teaches at Columbia University, and I toured southern Italy. The highlight was the astronomical clock in the campanile at the cathedral. We went up into the tower for a spectacular view of the city.”
“What kind of clock is that?”
“An astronomical clock has moving parts that tell us the position of the sun, moon, zodiacal constellations and major planets. It was added in 1933 to mark the rebuilding after the earthquake. That is how I understand it. The lions are a symbol of strength.”
“Thank you so much,” said Angela as she picked up the statues. “They are beautiful.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m forward in bringing them,” said Mrs. Hubbard. “Amazing, it had been destroyed so many times but rebuilt. Now that is a testament to perseverance. A falling tower moment does not have to be the end. I am sure you know that firsthand. Now let’s get to my fitting.”
Everyone has the experience of hitting bottom, but Angela had transformed what could have been a life full of stagnation and regret into an expansive experience that reached into the unseen world. She reflected on the recent appearance of gargoyles and lion statues in her life. The only images she had on her fireplace mantles, hanging art reproductions, and altar were standard Catholic images, but she felt lately that things were shifting. Time moves on, she thought, and everything changes. Angela was not nostalgic for the past. The gargoyles and lions were from the past, but they represented something different in the present. Maybe they represented a new beginning of strength, which Angela fully embraced. A new decade was approaching, and Angela braced herself for more changes.
“Thank you. I will put one in my bedroom and the other on the hallway mantle.”
“This is excellent. You will have protection when you sleep and from people with negative energy who might come into your home.”
After Mrs. Hubbard left, Angela placed one of the lions on her mantle. The animal projected a fierce determination to protect the environment in which it was placed.
“Where did you get the lion?” Marie asked, flopping on a chair. She wore a French braid that extend to her mid-back.
“My client brought them. They are replicas of the lions on top of Messina Cathedral. They are a symbol of protection like the gargoyles. She is an interior designer. I can’t believe that people hire someone else to decorate their home.”
“How perfect,” said Marie. “Your hometown is protecting you.”
“I suppose it is. Maybe we never really leave our birthplace.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Hi, Lizzy,” said Marie.
“Ciao, bella,” said Lizzy.
“Get a cup and saucer from the pantry,” said Angela.
Marie was dressed in a green wool mini-skirt Angela had made, along with a white top. It took many discussions between Marie and Angela to put the hem that far above the knee.
“You are going to be cold in that short skirt,” said Angela.
“I have tights on,” said Marie. “I got this letter today from City College,” she squealed, waving a letter. She handed the letter to Angela as she twirled around the kitchen.
“You have been accepted to City College, and you start next September. I am so happy.” Angela hugged Marie. Angela’s dream had finally come true.
“It’s early acceptance so now I can do other things here, besides going to class,” said Marie. “Like spend time with you ladies. What are you talking about?” asked Marie. “Can I have some coffee?”
Marie knew that her good news would spread like a wildfire as soon as Angela could get to a phone.
Angela was pleased that Marie could go out in the world and get an education, but she did not like the way Marie dressed. Angela did not understand why everyone wanted to look slovenly. In Sicily, if people dressed in blouses that hung over baggy pants it was assumed that they were of the lower classes. At this time, in America it was considered chic.
“She has such a cute figure,” said Lizzy.
“I think the hem is too short,” said Angela.
“That’s the rage now,” said Lizzy. “If I had a cute figure and good legs, I’d wear a mini skirt.”
“Marie, you better go to school this afternoon,” said Angela. “Your mother has enough to deal with. She does not need the school calling about your truancy. And your acceptance letter says you must graduate from high school. You need to call her at the office about your acceptance.”
“They won’t even notice I’m not there,” said Marie. “But I’ll go this afternoon, and I’ll tell mom when she gets home.”
Marie enjoyed going into the city a few times a month on school days. She had intentionally kept a low profile at school so she would not be terribly missed. Her friends might notice but not enough to inquire about her absence. The grittiness of Times Square appealed to her. One could get lost in the mass of humanity that called 42nd Street home in the 1960s. Soon, she would call Manhattan home.
“Call her now,” said Angela. “She would want to know.”
“Time for me to go,” said Lizzy. “Congratulations, Marie. Your aunt has been talking about you going to college for years.”
“Thanks, Lizzy.”
Marie dialed her mother’s office.
“Mom, I got into City College in Manhattan; early acceptance.”
She heard a pause on the other end and a sigh.
“What will you study? It should be something useful.”
“I’ll just have to see,” said Marie. She had learned to be diplomatic when it came to her mother. It gave her mom a sense of doing her motherly duty to make sure that her children’s future would be secure. It was best to placate and fall into the background.
“I don’t know yet. I just want to live in New York and study. Maybe I’ll be an urban gypsy.”
“You need to have a marketable skill. I think you have done too much daydreaming.”
“It was a joke. I’ll think about a practical major.”
Marie never discussed her experiences with the unseen world with her mother. It was something that she shared with Angela, and Marie was starting to suspect that her connection to the invisible world prove to be invaluable. She found her mother’s suspicion for anything intangible exasperating, so she decided to throw caution to the wind.
“I think the Liberal Arts program would suit me,” said Marie. She knew this would displease Felicia to no end.
“Liberal Arts? What kind of job do you hope to get?”
“See you when you get home.”
“Did you tell your mother?” asked Angela.
“Yes, and I think it made her really excited.”
That night, Angela thanked the universe and the Blessed Mother for putting Marie on the right path—or better yet, the path she had set for Marie. She had less than a year of Marie under her roof before she would leave for college.