Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [106]
THIRTY
AUGUST 15, 1909
Angelina held Mary’s hand as they climbed the stairs to the elevated train. Watching her older brother and sisters’ excitement made her even more eager. It was hard to put a smile on Clement’s face, but even he was beaming.
Giovanna carried a big basket with their meal, which competed with her growing belly. Rocco, whose birthday was the excuse for this extravagant outing, toted a woven bag with their clothes for bathing, and bottles of wine and water.
“How much did it cost?” Angelina asked Mary after their father walked away from the train ticket window.
“One dime each. But I think you’re free, so that would be fifty cents.”
“I hope we still have money for Dreamland.”
“Don’t worry, Angelina, this is going to be the best day of our lives,” said Frances.
The train went over the Brooklyn Bridge, which Angelina thought in itself was worth the ten cents. Once over the bridge, Angelina felt devilish peeking into second-story bedrooms and seeing men in collarless shirts reading the paper. Soon they were riding into more open space, where detached houses competed with big signs advertising the buildings of tomorrow. The meadows became marshes, which stretched to the sea. And then, in the distance, they saw the strange shapes of Coney Island.
Although it was early morning, the train was packed, and Angelina clung to Giovanna in the throng of weekenders jostling to get off. “First, we’ll swim,” announced Giovanna, steering her family to the beach and the bathhouses.
Angelina could see the excitement in her mother’s eyes. From their trip to Italy, she remembered how much her mother loved the water. The color of this ocean was more gray-blue, and the waves larger and louder, but it was the closest vision to Scilla they had seen. As they looked away from the shore, instead of seeing cliffs and lemon groves, they saw blinking lights, waving flags, and grand, fanciful buildings.
For twenty cents, they were given a small tent to change in and a place to leave their clothes. Giovanna had begged and borrowed bathing costumes for everyone. It was most difficult to find something to fit herself. Rocco had forbidden her to go swimming in her condition, but she had every intention of at least wading in the surf. Clement was the first to spring through the flap of the door and run to the ocean, his father’s warnings chasing him. Within minutes, Frances and Mary followed, as did Angelina, clinging to her mother’s hand.
Angelina’s shoulders lifted to her ears when the first wave washed over her feet. The water was cold. Her brother and sisters were already in, squealing with delight as they jumped over the waves. Inch by inch, Angelina made her way farther into the ocean without releasing her grip on her mother’s hand. She watched her father swim far out toward the horizon until he was just a speck. “Mamma! Papa is going to disappear!”
“No, he’s just showing off because he’s fifty-three today,” Giovanna said, smiling.
With each passing minute the beach became more crowded. When they arrived, it had been fairly empty, but now, wherever they turned, they bumped into someone.
Rocco walked out of the waves, panting but invigorated.
“Papa, you swim like a fish!” shouted Angelina.
Her father smiled, looked at the sky to check the position of the sun, and announced, “Let’s eat our meal.”
Giovanna spread out a tablecloth on the sand and emptied the basket of food. Before long, they were eating fried eggplant, olives, and fruit.
“Mamma, it doesn’t matter if I spill my food down my front! I can just go swimming!” exclaimed Angelina, with peach juice running down her chin.
By four in the afternoon, the allure of the boardwalk was too great. Rocco and Giovanna couldn’t bear the children’s pestering any longer. “Va bene,” said Rocco, “we’ll go. But listen to me—we each get to do one thing. You can tell the others of your adventure.”
“I know what I’m doing!” screamed Frances. “The slide in Dreamland!