Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [113]
“You’re family. You’re family,” she said repeatedly in Italian while stroking my hands. When Antonio confirmed what she already knew, my cousin Rosa cried and kissed my face.
“Ciao, I have to get back to the restaurant,” called Antonio, walking off.
I panicked. “But Antonio, you can’t leave. My Italian is terrible.”
“You’ll manage; it’s your family,” he answered from farther down the alley.
I looked at my smiling cousins and understood they needed to feed me.
For five days, I was fed and feted. There were more cousins, some distant, but all insisted that I eat with them. At these meals, with the little bit of Italian I knew, and lots of drawings, I learned about my grandfather’s life in Scilla. They showed me where my grandfather caught his biggest swordfish, where my great-grandmother Fortunata got her water at the public fountain, pictures of all the Arena brothers and sisters, and old postcards from America.
On the second day, Rosa took a key off her wall and said we were going to Nonno’s house. She stopped in front of a small building a few doors down and behind her own house.
“This is where my father, Salvatore, and your grandfather Antonio were born and lived,” explained Rosa.
I was practically shaking as I entered the vacant house. There was little inside, but it was easy to imagine that nothing had changed since Nonno was born there eighty-three years ago. When I asked why no one lived in the house now, Cosmo, whom I had the easiest time communicating with, explained that there was no water or electricity. He also said something about how they had tried to fix the house after an earthquake, but that the repairs hadn’t lasted.
On my last day in Scilla, I walked past a stone house that looked like it was built into the foundation of the church above it. We had walked past this house many times, and I had noticed that it seemed older than all the other buildings.
“This was your great-grandmother Giovanna’s house,” said Rosa.
I was so focused on my grandfather’s life in Scilla that I hadn’t asked about Big Nanny’s house and family. This house was also vacant, but no one could remember who had the key. Cosmo explained that Big Nanny’s house was one of the oldest houses in the village because it wasn’t destroyed in the same earthquake that had made Nonno’s house uninhabitable.
“The fisherman’s church above it was ruined—that’s a new church, built in 1910. But your great-grandmother’s house, because it’s built into the cliff, survived. Her parents lived in the house alone after their children went to America. No one has lived here since they died.”
“What do you know about my great-grandmother?” I asked, my mind instantly going back to the blue sparkling dress in the coffin.
“Your great-grandmother was my second cousin,” answered Cosmo. These conversations were difficult enough to understand in English, never mind in a foreign language. When Cosmo drew a family tree, I understood. I knew Nonno was related to Big Nanny, but seeing it explained in boxes and lines made sense.
“There are still stories in Scilla about your great-grandmother. She left before I was born, but because she was a midwife, the tales got passed down.”
“Who was her first husband again?”
“Nunzio, my great-uncle. He was killed in a construction accident in New York.”
The family in Italy seemed much better than the Americans at passing down family history and keeping track of who was who.
When I tried to leave, I was told I couldn’t. “The Feast of Saint Rocco is only two days away! Cosmo will carry the saint!” exclaimed Rosa.
I knew it wasn’t negotiable. So for the first time, I left my notebook and questions back with the mermaids and Saint Anthony and swam out into the Strait of Messina.
PART NINE
NEW YORK, NEW YORK SEPTEMBER 11, 1909–DECEMBER 8, 1909
THIRTY-TWO
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1909
Angelina squirmed as Giovanna