Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [119]
When she caught her breath she took in the words of the note. Four thousand dollars! Disgraziati! What made these thieves think that they had such money? What could she possibly put in the envelope to satisfy them?
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1909
Angelina awoke from her second night spent on the floor. She was able to figure out that there were two women, two men, and two sets of children in the little house. One of the women, the younger one, had brought her rags and hay that she had used to cover the cold floor tile. The hay was the only thing she had to amuse herself with when she was locked back into the room before the men came home for supper. Doll-like shapes that she had braided and twisted from the straw the night before were lined up against the wall.
She could hear them eating breakfast. She didn’t understand all the words because they spoke in a thick dialect that sounded like the Sicilian neighbors on her block. Picking up and braiding more straw, she had nearly tuned them out when one of the men thundered, “What do you mean you went together to the market!”
“There was too much to carry!”
“Merda!” Angelina heard a hard slap.
“What if she screamed and someone had heard her?”
“She didn’t scream.”
“How would you know, you weren’t here! Only one of you goes shopping and the other stays here with the children. Capisci?”
Angelina’s silent tears began to flow, although this time it was not because she was frightened but because she was mad at herself. She hadn’t thought to scream. Why hadn’t she screamed? What a stupid girl she was! She wasn’t smart like the principal said! If she had screamed, someone in that office across the street with the blue shade could have heard her. She pinched herself in anger and frustration. She had lost her chance to get away.
“And don’t you let the bambini play with her! They could tell someone!”
“Who would they tell? You won’t let us out!”
Angelina heard another whack and then crying. She drew her knees to her chest and slid as far as possible into the corner.
Looking down from her window, Giovanna saw three women from the building talking outside the front door. Their building had no stoop, making it difficult to congregate, so conversations didn’t last long. She quickly grabbed her basket and headed downstairs.
“Buon giorno,” greeted Giovanna, opening the door.
“Buon giorno,” answered the women, who, because of Gio vanna’s midwife status, treated her respectfully.
Not one to stop and chat, Giovanna used her own pregnancy as an excuse. “Those stairs are getting difficult,” she complained, rubbing her belly.
“Can’t one of the children do the shopping?” the neighbor asked.
“Between work and school, they don’t have the time. I was going to ask Limonata to help me,” fished Giovanna.
“You know that she up and left without paying the rent?” exclaimed the other woman.
“I heard she was gone. Did anyone know she was going?” Giovanna asked as nonchalantly as possible.
“Who knows? I never liked her. No father to that child. She said he died, but with all those boyfriends, who could believe her!”
“Maybe she left with her boyfriend,” offered up Giovanna. “Wasn’t she seeing a man with red hair?”
“No, that was ages ago, signora. Her latest was dark with a lidded eye. He looked like a dead fish!”
“Oh, I think I did see him. He was heavy, yes?”
“No, that must have been another one. This one was tall and bony. Like a mackerel. I heard her call him Leo.”
“Well, if you see this Leo or Limonata, will you tell me? She left with my beer pitcher!”
“That puttana!” exclaimed one of the ladies. “I saw you give her food, signora, and she stole from you!”
Giovanna could feel her eyes welling up and her body quaking. “Sì, well if you hear…buon giorno,” she stammered, rushing off to her nonexistent errands.
Giovanna saw that Inzerillo took notice when she entered his Café Pasticceria. Pretending to look at the pastries, she waited until there was no one else near the counter.