The Witch of Little Italy (30 page)

I used to place my finger against my brother Georgie’s mouth while he slept. Just like I’m doing right now with your baby.

And one more thing my Elly, my Babygirl … I’m not gone from you. I’ve seen us in the garden. Mama’s garden. Perhaps you’ll find me there.

Love,

Lizzy

Elly put her finger over the dimple in Maj’s perfect upper lip. And a flutter of joy began to ease the steady stream of tears that had been pouring, from the very start of Itsy’s letter, until the very end.

34

The Day the Amores Died

The day they brought the baby home Elly noticed a gray hush had fallen over the building on 170th Street. Halfway up the stairs to their apartment, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it, babe. You go take your shower.”

Elly watched how Anthony held little Maj, so comfortable, so adept. And she
did
want an actual shower. The shower at the hospital seemed a joke at best. “Thank you,” she said.

“Anything for my girls,” he said more to the baby than to Elly.

When she turned off the water Anthony called to her from the living room. “Elly, come see. You really need to see this.”

She wrapped herself in soft white towels and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She remembered the night at college when she’d lost her virginity—violently—to Cooper. She’d tried to find a difference in her appearance, something that others would notice. She’d only felt sad, sick, and red-faced. Younger and more vulnerable, if anything.

But not this time. Elly looked in the mirror and loved what she saw. Not a washed-out version of Carmen anymore. Elly was seeing herself for the first time. Strong, wild, and powerful. An Amore. A Green.

She walked out into the living room. And there he was. Anthony, rocking little Maj in Margaret Green’s rocking chair.

“Oh God! The chair. It’s so beautiful. Way more beautiful than I remembered it,” Elly said as she sat down next to it and watched the arched rockers creak across the floor.

“You should’a seen the delivery guy try to get it up the stairs! It came with a note. Here.”

He handed her a handwritten letter touching her softly as she took it from him. His eyes brimmed with support.

Dear Elly,

Don’t let go of her. Not for one second. Hold her tight. Rock her when her eyes are open. Tell her how much we all love her.

Bien à toi,

   
Mommy

“She must be in France now. This chair’s been all around the world,” said Elly, carefully folding the note into an origami crane.

“Are you okay? Do you miss her very much?” he asked

“I’m okay. I’m home. I have you and Maj. The truth is, I’ll miss her forever, I have to get used to it. It’s more a case of me missing Itsy. And Liz.”

“Ah yes, the incredible disappearing Liz,” said Anthony.

“Do you really expect me to believe you never saw her but always thought she was real?” asked Elly.

“What do I know? I’m just a guy. She was real to you, so she was real to me. And besides, I grew up in a family where strange things I didn’t understand happened on a regular basis, you know?”

Elly sighed. “She
was
real to me. Too real. I don’t know what to do without her.”

“Why don’t you go get Mimi and tell her to come see the chair. I bet it’ll make her happy to know it’s back home where it belongs,” said Anthony.

“That’s a good idea,” said Elly, getting up and kissing them both on their cheeks. She threw on a nightgown and went to get Mimi.

She knocked on Mimi’s apartment door. It took Mimi a long time to answer, but Elly knew she was in there.

“Do you need me?” asked Mimi, who looked exhausted and older than usual.

“Mimi, you have to come see. Carmen sent back the rocking chair!”

“How nice for you. Is that all?” Mimi closed the door in her face. Elly stood alone in the hallway. Fee, always curious, hadn’t even emerged from her apartment. It was odd how the 170th Street building was so quiet with Itsy gone. There’d been no sound from her in years and yet the air was still with her absence.

Elly closed her eyes and could see Mimi and Fee sitting motionless on their respective easy chairs each one alone in their respective apartments. Each cried silently. And though they moved slowly anyway, the building seemed to be stuck on pause.

“This will
not
do.” Elly said into the air.

*   *   *

“You’ll figure it out, you’re so resourceful,” said Anthony, in bed after she told him how strange things were all of a sudden.

“I thought I had it all figured out already. All the secrets are out in the open. It’s all supposed to be fixed, like great-grandma Margaret asked. But suddenly it seems more broken than ever.”

“Well, are you sure you know
everything
?” asked Anthony.

Elly sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “It’s that day! The day they all died. I still don’t know how it all happened.”

“Mimi would know,” said Anthony.

“Yes, she would. And she
has
to tell me,” said Elly.

“How are you going to get her to talk?”

“I have leverage,” said Elly rubbing her hands together.

“Oh yeah, what kind?”

“I know what Itsy said to me the day she broke her silence.”

“How’d you find that out? Was it hidden in one of the memories?”

“Yes, and no. I did what you told me to do when I first came here last winter.”

“And what kind of wisdom did I give you way back then?” asked Anthony with a smile.

“You said, ‘Ask Itsy,’ so—I asked her. And finally, when she found her voice, she answered me.”

*   *   *

The next day, with baby Maj on a walk with Anthony for her very first tour of the Bronx, Elly sat with her grandmother and held her hand.

“You can’t live like this, Mimi. You’ve overcome much worse. It’s not good for little Maj.”

Mimi yanked her hand away. “What do you know of overcoming? What do you know about anything?” She sounded petulant, like a child.

Elly’d had enough. She flew to the window and opened it, letting out the oppressive heat. She was in charge now. It felt so good. She crossed her arms in front of her, her posture demanding attention from Mimi. “Do you still want to know what she said to me?”

“What?”

“Aunt Itsy. Do you still want to know what she said to me all those years ago?”

Elly watched Mimi’s face brighten a little. Watched her shoulders relax. Mimi and Elly were alike in so many ways. Like Itsy, too. Treasure hunters. Secret keepers. Magic makers. Elly sat back down and took her Mimi’s hand once again.

“You wanted to know what she said. Now I know.” Elly took a deep breath. “But I’m not telling until you tell me what you saw. Now I know it all. I have all the pieces. But I need to know what you saw. What did you see, Mimi?”

“Why do you want to know such things? Horrible things?”

“Because we owe it to Itsy and to everyone else. We owe
ourselves
the whole truth. Mimi, I love you and I love this life you’ve given me. Don’t leave me now. I need you and Aunt Fee. I need this place to breathe again. Maybe if you tell me what you know, and I tell you what I know, the broken pieces can come together and start to heal. What do you say, Mimi? Give it a try, won’t you?”

Elly saw her reflection in Mimi’s eyes. She was changed. Grown up … but grown up in an Amore way. A glimmer in her eye, a secret in her soul. There could be years of laughter ahead of all of them.

“Well, I suppose I saw everything,” said Mimi giving in to the temptation. “And paid the price. When it was all over I was crying blood. Doctor Ryan said I almost cried my eyes out. Literally. They bandaged me for weeks. I was blind to everything but my sisters. They took care of me. The deaf and mute taking care of the blind. Prophetic, cliché, and crazy.”

“Oh Mimi, I can’t even imagine it. Won’t you please tell me about that day? I feel like I need to own a piece of it, especially now with Itsy gone. I’ve lost my connection.”

“You will never lose your connection, love. You can’t. It’s inside of you. Okay, you want the dirty details? I’ll give them to you.” Mimi got up and went to the window. She needed to say the words into the building itself. To tell it its own story.

“The day was lovely. I remember that, and the trees were moving the way they do on a midspring day. God’s breath making wishes on the leaves. Mama and I were baking. And then—the doorbell rang.

“Our hands were gooey. ‘Fee?’ asked Mama pushing her hair back with her forearm.

“‘No, she’s at the church decorating for the festival,’ I said.

“‘Bunny?’

“‘Shopping.’

“Mama sighed. ‘Call Papa.’

“‘
Papa
!’ I yelled. She hit the back of my head with her hand,

“‘Ma! You got flour in my hair.’

“‘And so what? I have to do everything myself.’ She wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the front door. That was the beginning and the end. I never saw her alive again. Later that night Fee wanted to wash my hair. But I put up such a fight she gave up because she didn’t want me to bleed from my eyes anymore. I wanted to keep Mama’s flour in my hair. I never wanted to wash it out.

“‘Can I help you?’ I heard Mama say.

“There were mumbled, masculine voices and then a thud. I heard Papa come down the stairs and yell out Mama’s name.

“I ran into the front hall. There were two soldiers at the door and Mama on the floor, ashen, eyes opened. Dead.

“‘What happened?’ I cried out. Papa was cradling her and crying. ‘No, no, no!’

“The men at the door told me about the boys.

“I can remember asking something silly like, ‘All three? All three at the same time? Aren’t there some kind of rules against that?’

“They asked what they could do.

“I told them to get help.

“As they left, I saw Fee coming home. She was running down the sidewalk. Holding up her skirts. ‘What’s happened?’ She was yelling too loud. People were coming out of their buildings like bugs.

“Papa walked away staring out of dull eyes with a pale face, letting Mama’s head thunk against the floor. He walked back into the apartment. It didn’t take long.

“Fee and I were standing, crying over Mama, waiting for help. Fee kept putting her fingers in her ears and saying, ‘What?’

“The shot was loud. It came from Mama and Papa’s room. I got up. ‘Fee, did you hear?’

“She looked puzzled. ‘What?’

“I ran into their bedroom and Papa was across the bed. Shot himself in the head. I remember thinking,
No … this can’t be happening. Too much. How did it all fall apart in five minutes?

“Bunny came home, I heard her scream and shoo Zelda Grace up the stairs to their apartment, to shield her from the tragic chaos.

“I ran to her, my big sister. My new mother.

“‘Papa! He’s dead, too. Shot himself. And the boys! That’s how it started, Bunny … that’s how it started. All three.’

“‘Isn’t there some rule about that?’ she asked, echoing my own thoughts.

“The discussion was surreal. We didn’t know what else to do. Fee wouldn’t stop fussing with her ears. ‘I can’t hear right,’ she said, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Policemen were everywhere by then. Like buzzing bees. But they didn’t pay much attention to us. Most of them were gathering at the back of the house around Papa. I’m sure it was one of them who called the ambulance.

“Bunny sat on the bottom step and stared out the doorway. I sat next to her.

“‘So what do we do?’ she asked me.

“‘We wait for help.’

“‘We wait,’ she repeated.

“We stared into the day, the shaft of light like an Edward Hopper painting illuminating Fee and dead Mama on the floor. And then a graceful shadow, the sound of doves’ wings … fabric in the wind, and a soft scream, all followed by a sick, smacking sound.

“Sweet, curious, Zelda Grace had fallen from the upstairs window. We watched her hit the ground.

“Bunny got up in slow motion and walked forward stepping over Mama. She took her time walking off the porch steps. She leaned down and covered her daughter’s eyes with her hands and then stood back up.

“I knew what would happen next. I didn’t need The Sight for that. I didn’t even try to stop her. The day’s events were out of my control. Mama knew it was coming. The fortune-teller confirmed it all those years ago that summer day in Playland. It had to finish itself. Run its horrible course.

“Bunny chased the light out into oncoming traffic. The ambulance that was coming to save us killed my sister.

“Fee put her hands over her ears and kept rocking.

“I remember thinking:
Itsy and George … Itsy and George.

“Itsy was living at Mama’s house out on Far Rockaway. But it was the middle of the week. She’d be teaching. I had to call her. George was running in through the back door. He tore by me
. Good …
I remember thinking
. Someone else will tell him. I’ll tell Itsy and she’ll come and take care of him.

“I picked up the phone. The receiver fell, it was so heavy. The air was heavy. I looked at the phone numbers on the chalkboard next to the phone that Mama put up so we could keep track of everyone.

“I dialed Bayside Public School and asked to speak to Itsy. A family emergency if there ever was one. I don’t even know how I got out the words. When I hung up the phone I clutched at my belly. I’d forgotten all about the baby. The baby whose family was disappearing by the second.

“My husband Alfred worked in the City with Bunny’s husband, Charlie. They’d be home after it was all over. And they did come home. But Charlie packed his things in silence and left. He never saw Bunny buried and we never saw him again. And my Alfred? He stayed by my side. Stayed until I made him leave. But that’s another story altogether.”

Elly took a long look at her grandmother. It was one thing to know something, another entirely to hear the details. Elly felt the air suck out of her own chest. The things people go through everyday. The split-second spin of a reality gone mad. Elly could clearly picture statuesque Bunny lifting her skirts and stepping into the traffic, her shoulders straight. Her bun still tight and tidy on top of her head. Elly had an itchy, urgent need to paint the whole scene. As if it would purge it from all of them. Mark the moment so they could all move on.