Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [144]
“Rocco, from where? You don’t have to tell me if you can’t.”
Rocco sat down beside her. “From Dr. Bellantoni.”
Giovanna kissed Rocco with tenderness. She knew that asking another man for money was, for him, the greatest sacrifice.
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1909
“The baby is so strong, Giovanna!” exclaimed Lucrezia, examining him. “But I’m surprised you didn’t name him Nunzio.”
“You must need to get back for Sunday dinner,” remarked Giovanna, changing the subject.
“No, I have time. I want to take a look at you, and besides, my husband is away at another conference.”
Giovanna could hear in Lucrezia’s voice that there was more to this, but she didn’t ask questions, fearing that one confidence might lead to another. She laid baby Anthony on one side of the bed, where he poked at the air with his arms and feet, and stretched out on the other for Lucrezia’s examination.
“Did you see the papers today?” commented Lucrezia, filling the awkward silence.
“No.” Giovanna wished she had so she could have more of an answer, but Lucrezia good-naturedly continued on while Giovanna said a prayer of thanks that Lucrezia had the kind heart not to be meddlesome.
“Last night at the Metropolitan, Caruso sang La Traviata with Toscanini conducting. Two Italians snuck up the fire escape and got into the balcony to hear the concert. I suppose that isn’t uncommon. But what was funny was that an Irish policeman discovered them, and instead of arresting them on the spot, he locked them in a closet so he could hear the rest of the performance!”
“I hope they heard it, too!” responded Giovanna with a forced laugh. “Did you go?”
“No. My husband left on Friday.”
“So why didn’t you go alone?”
“Ah.” Lucrezia shrugged her shoulders. For a split second Giovanna wanted to follow up the shrug and comfort her, but once again she stopped herself.
“I’ll be going. You’re doing well.”
“Thank you, Lucrezia. I’ll come visit when the weather is better.”
“You do that,” answered Lucrezia with resignation, knowing full well that she wouldn’t see her friend anytime soon.
FORTY-TWO
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1909
This is it. Here’s the final payment. I want my daughter returned immediately. If you delay, next it is your coglioni. They’ll start to itch, blister, and fall off.
Giovanna allowed Rocco to take the final payment to the arranged spot in the dumbwaiter at 304 Elizabeth Street.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1909
A loud rap at the door startled Giovanna. It was them. It had to be them. She flung the door open. Instead, she looked into the faces of two even more startled settlement workers.
“Buon giorno, signora. Many people in this area are getting consumption and we have come to teach your family how to avoid becoming ill…”
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1909
When Giovanna returned home from buying bread, there was another booklet about consumption in front of the door. She picked it up with difficulty because Anthony was in the sling at her chest. Inside, as she tossed it into a pile of papers to be burned, a note fell out.
In seconds, Giovanna was in Inzerillo’s cafe, the gun in her waistband at the ready.
“We need to talk!” ordered Giovanna, walking into the back room without stopping.
Closing the door, Inzerillo hissed, “What do you mean coming in here this way for all to see!”
Giovanna grabbed the gun and put it to Inzerillo’s head. “Is it better they see you dead?”
“Signora! Put that away.”
“Not until you sit down and listen,” she said, locking the door.
“Okay, I will listen.”
“Read this,” she ordered, thrusting the note in his hands.
Inzerillo read it. “I agree this is most unfortunate.”
“It’s more than unfortunate, you crook. It’s suicide. I know now they are playing with me, and I am done playing. Here’s your message, disgraziato.” Giovanna felt liberated by dropping all