The Coming of Fabrizze: A Novel (Black Squirrel Books) (9 page)

“There it is,” said Fabrizze.

The gentle hands were sending hope and love into every corner of his being.

A
CHILD was born after the turn of the year. He had blue eyes and a circle of reddish gold hair. They called him Paul. Fabrizze remarked that he came before his time with a smile.

“Why wouldn't he smile?” said Grace. “He saw red wine in every corner of the house. It was under the beds and in the closets. It was in pints and quarts and gallons. It was in five-gallon jugs and barrels. The glow of it was in the eyes of his father and his great-grandfather. Their lips were as dark as cherries with it. And the house was filled with laughing strangers.”

Fabrizze and Mendone started to make wine in the fall. They put up three barrels of juice for fermenting and then realized that everyone was doing the same with the same blue grapes. They emptied the juice into jugs and cleaned the barrels to be sure there was no sour stinging taste in the wine. They began to experiment. Mendone bought a basket of the muscatel grapes. He pressed and boiled them. He skimmed them and poured the juice into one of the barrels.

“It helps to clear the Concord wine,” he said. “And it gives that bit of sweetness. Wait until you taste it.”

“Buy more of the red grapes,” said Fabrizze. “We'll try the ones called Catawba and Delaware.”

“We'll keep mixing,” said Mendone.

“A gallon here, a gallon there,” said Fabrizze.

“We'll keep tasting,” said Mendone.

“We'll swim in this wine,” said Fabrizze.

“I hear it's good to cut in a few apples,” said Mendone.

Mendone discovered other good things. It was good to make wine by the light of candles. It was good to sip wine while making wine. A bit of music was good with wine. It was very good to lift your glass to the soft light and hear a mother singing sweet persuasion to a child unborn. Finally, it was good to be with a younger man who would put the candles out and help you up the stairs when work was finished in the wintry night.

All their wine was sold before the holidays. Men came across the city for it. They promised to bring friends and so Mendone put in an order to buy twelve barrels of juice from a cumpare of Penza.

“It isn't right,” sad Grace. “It isn't right.”

“What's this?” said Mendone. “I don't understand.”

“It's getting away from you,” said Grace.

“Never, never,” said Mendone. “This wine will be even better.”

“Drink to it,” said Fabrizze.

“First you bought the grapes,” said Grace. “You cleaned them and pressed the juice. Now you buy the juice. After this you'll be buying the wine itself. You'll have to look the other way when you sell it. But then you'll have someone to sell it for you.”

“Wonderful,” said Mendone. “Drink to it.”

“She runs us through,” said Fabrizze.

“And it isn't right to take money in the house,” said Grace.

“This will be the last of it,” said Fabrizze. “Still, I like to have people around me. It's nothing more than that, Grace, and no one believes it. A man was telling me about his brother. ‘Bring him here,' I said. ‘I'd like to see him.' He thought it was to sell wine. I just wanted to see his brother. Listen then. I've been thinking of a place of my own. A store perhaps.”

“Find a store then,” said Grace.

“I talked to Rossi about it,” said Fabrizze. “He'll put money in with me. All we do on the job is take walks and see that the switches are clean. The other day we sharpened the tools and put them aside. The only excitement is what's in the lunches.”

The experiments with wine continued. Jugs were hidden everywhere. Fabrizze and Mendone filled strange black bottles with a blend so imaginative that neither of them could remember the ingredients. They boiled the corks and drove them in and buried the black bottles under the basement floor. They drank a toast from the first barrel. Something was lacking in there. They went on tasting and mixing. Deep into the night Grace heard the bubbling and pouring and whispering.

“Must you lose sleep with this wine?” she said.

“Wine, wine,” said Mendone, frying sausage in it.

“Wine warms you in the winter,” said Fabrizze. “Wine cools you in the summer.”

“Wine helps the digestion,” said Mendone. “Wine enriches the blood. Wine is good for the skin.”

“Wine puts a certain light in the eyes,” said Fabrizze.

“Is it good for the lungs?” said Grace. “The baby cries out when I take him in the fresh air.”

“Wine keeps the teeth clean,” said Mendone.

“And it loosens the tongue,” said Grace.

“But then it relieves the heart,” said Fabrizze.

“And fills our pockets,” said Mendone.

Profits were mounting. Fabrizze made more money in the basement than on the railroad. Along with it came a fair share of disruption in the house. Part of the railroad gang followed Fabrizze home in the afternoon to take a glass with him. They lingered in the cool basement. Now and again they asked Fabrizze to read from the daily paper. They sipped wine and made comments on the news.

“There's a shock,” Cardino would say.

“Listen for another,” said Rumbone.

Fabrizze went on reading.

“There it is,” said Gritti.

“Enough of that,” said Cardino. “Turn the page.”

“Here is news,” said Fabrizze. “It's time for supper.”

“One more glass,” said Gritti.

“Your wife is waiting,” said Fabrizze.

“There's a shock,” said Rumbone.

Day and night there were customers in the house. The tailor Salupo planted himself in the corner and waited for customers of his own. A measuring tape was round his neck. Rainbow garters choked his sleeves. He kept giving the garters to children. He winked and beckoned when he saw a child. Suddenly he was whispering of a secret thing. He whispered until the child was cross-eyed with wonder and delight.

“Sit on my knee,” Salupo would say, softly. “I was watching for you. I was watching and waiting and when I saw you I said to myself, ‘Look, look, look: here's the little boy with brown hair: tell him the secret!' Listen, listen, listen. Put your ear closer and closer. Have you heard about the box hidden up in my attic? Listen then. Up in the corner of the closet in the attic is a box, a big box, a big red box, a box bigger than a little boy with brown hair just like you. And the box is full, the big box is loaded up, the big red box is spilling over with toys, toys, toys. Look with me in the box, the big box, the big red box. Look, look. Bouncing balls and yellow balloons. Red wagons and spinning tops. Puppies and clowns and horns to blow. A long black train with smoke and a whistle. Silver bells and a boat with a sail. A can of paint and a bottle of glue. Are you listening? Tell your mother to bring you to the closet in the attic. I'll be waiting there with the big red box. Look again. A rocking horse and a big bass drum. Hammers and nails and wooden spoons. Chocolate cookies and rubber bands. Pails and wheels and marching soldiers. Come closer. I'll give you this garter from my sleeve. Think of me in the closet of the attic with the big red box of toys, toys, toys. I'll be waiting for you. It's a secret thing. Shake hands on it.”

Often Salupo came upstairs to talk with Grace and play with the baby. He would thread imaginary needles and measure Paul for a suit and sew it up on the spot.

“How he watches me,” he said. “Look at that smile. I wish I could sew his trouble in a sack and drop the sack in the sea.”

“As long as he has no more than his share,” said Grace.

“Next year I'll make a suit for him,” said Salupo. “Blue as his eyes. Running through it will be a stitch of gold to match his hair. And let me design a dress for you. I have this brown cloth. Perfect, perfect. And why doesn't Fabrizze come to me? I can do a remarkable thing for him.”

The lovely look of Grace and the child sent Salupo back downstairs for more wine. He drank and drank and brooded over the fact that he had never married. He staggered round the basement insulting everyone. He put his hand on Gritti.

“You make your own clothes, eh?” he said.

He caught Cardino by the coat.

“Who goes here?” he said.

He reeled outside and up to his attic in the red rooming house. He leaned out the window and called down to passing women.

“You there,” he said. “You with the black hair!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I'll make a dress for you!” said Salupo. “Among other things! Come up here for a fitting! Just the two of us! Come up, come up! Eight flights to love! Who's the old man? You there! Move away from that girl!”

“Move away? I'm her husband! I'll come up there and teach you a lesson! Animal, animal!”

“Animal is right!” said Salupo. “Like a lion! Come up, come up! I dare you! Eight flights to death! Wait, wait! Don't move! I'm coming to you!”

Up the stairs rushed the husband.

Salupo locked himself in the closet. He sat on his high stool and puffed a cigar. He tried to sell a suit.

“I was teasing,” he said, behind the door. “It's a way to get the customers in. I went too far with it, eh? Risky, risky. Last week I was beaten something terrible. The truth is, I have a cloth for you. On the second rack there. An imported silk. The black, the black. You deserve the best. What a defender of the family! How proud your wife must be! Tell me her name.”

“She carries my name.”

“She should carry it like a flag,” said Salupo.

“What happened to the lion?”

“What a sense of humor,” said Salupo. “But you're upset, eh? Come and see me tomorrow. Bring the children. I have a big box in here. A big red box.”

“Now I know you. Never mind with that big red box. My nephew couldn't sleep thinking of it.”

Another caller at the house on Jackson Street was Tony Cucuzza. Tony played the guitar for his friends and he gambled at cards for a living. He was half blind in the left eye and he kept the right one closed unless he saw a woman, or a chance to double his money.

“How is it going?” someone would say.

“I'm winning,” said Tony. “Yesterday I won. The day before I won. Today I won. I win and win and win. But then one day the game is over. And that's all.”

Tony would play his guitar on the porch and Grace would hurry out the back door. Tony tricked her. He would strum on the step and then run to catch her leaving by the back. One day he started playing in front and he waited right there. A moment later Grace came headlong into his arms.

“I win again,” said Tony. He ripped off his cap and his coil of black hair jumped up. “You think I'm from the woods, eh? Look here. I brought something for Paul. A deck of cards. He'll sort them out.”

“It's thoughtful of you,” said Grace.

“They spread these rumors about me,” said Tony. “They say I'm a gambler and I make trouble. Isn't that what they tell you?”

“I've heard it,” said Grace.

“Who tells you?” said Tony. “Who says it?”

Grace looked away.

“Never mind then,” said Tony. “You have nothing to fear from me. I respect you and your husband…. It's time for the walk.”

Tony appointed himself watchdog. Strumming his guitar he followed Grace and the baby down the street. His right eye closed in exultance and his dark wild head was dancing time to the melody.

A stranger happened to turn and speak to Grace. She blushed and moved on. Tony spun his cap to screw it down tighter. Smiling, he walked over to the man.

“Hold still,” said Tony, with his set smile. Two front teeth were missing and it seemed his laughter would come pouring through to darken the day. “Hold still,” he was saying. “I may take your picture. Something to remember you. Look behind me. Tony Cucuzza throws a long shadow, eh? You know what I mean?”

Tony began to squeeze his arm. Presently they were both up on tiptoe. Tony was smiling.

“Give me your hand,” he whispered. “I want you to feel how my heart is pounding. You know what I mean?”

“I know, I know,” said the victim.

It was Tony Cucuzza who provided music for that first party in the house on Jackson Street. He was caught in the midst of preparations for it. He helped to decorate the basement. He carried invitations like threats through the neighborhood. One afternoon he sang the baby to sleep while Grace was making fresh sausage.

“They spread these rumors,” said Fabrizze. “They say you sang a lullaby and took a nap with Paul. I knew it was in you.”

“It's you and your wife,” said Tony. “You put things in me and then you find them.”

“You'll be here to play for us on Saturday?”

“But what is this party?” said Tony. “Tell me the reason for it. I hear different things from everyone.”

“Choose a reason,” said Fabrizze. “Soon I'll be a citizen of this country. One thing more. A girl is coming from Italy. She's called Lucia and she's coming to marry Mancini. One thing more. I made the last payment on the house. One thing more. I have a location for a store. I'll know for sure in a day or two.”

“And nothing more?” said Tony.

“It's April,” said Fabrizze. “We'll be together.”

And so they were.

The basement was packed with friends. Tony played a song of welcome for the lovely Lucia. Afterwards he sat beside the stairs to salute each of the guests as they arrived. He played songs of welcome until he coaxed from the night a complete stranger.

First came Lucia.

“Look, Fabrizze, look,” said Mancini, flushed with wine. “Is she what we thought? Here's the picture.”

“Put the picture away,” said Fabrizze. “The girl is here and you look at the picture. What a beauty she is. I see the blue of her eyes across the room. Such color in her cheek.”

“I can't believe it,” said Mancini. “I can't believe it.”

“But why are you so shy?” said Fabrizze. “She's waiting there for you. Ask her to dance.”