Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [147]
All day long Giovanna combed the streets in case the scoundrels simply left Angelina in the neighborhood, and when the children and Rocco returned from work they joined the search.
Much later that night, they had a quiet dinner of broth and bread. There had been no money for meat since Angelina was kidnapped. Her stepchildren were skin and bones.
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1909
“Get the kid,” ordered the older brother to his wife. She went into Angelina’s cell and pulled her off the straw and out the door.
“Can’t you clean her up a little?” asked the older man.
“What do you care?” answered his wife.
“At least wash the blood off her arms and legs.”
With a cold cloth, the woman scrubbed Angelina’s limbs. “We’re getting rid of you today,” she said.
Angelina felt relieved. Would they throw her in the trash? In the river by the bridge? It didn’t much matter.
“Who’s taking her?” asked the woman.
“They are,” said Leo, nodding to the brothers, who both now had beards.
Angelina imagined that the droopy-eyed man might hurt her before getting rid of her and wondered if the short men would try to stop him.
“Where’s the coat?” asked Leo.
“Here,” said the younger brother, tossing him a package. “Look at that color!”
“It’s not like the Calabresi. Very flashy,” commented the younger woman.
Angelina was happy that she was going to be warm before she died. She hugged the coat around her and played with the black braid at the waist.
“Go,” said Leo. “I’ll wait for you here.”
Angelina turned to wave at the children, who silently waved back.
They walked a long time. Angelina was so weak that she kept trying to sit, but the men with beards would yank her back up. After she fell a few times, the older man picked her up impatiently. Angelina couldn’t bear to be so close to his breath, which smelled of wine and cigars.
“I can walk. Put me down,” she commanded. She had lost all fear of them. Even the lupo bear didn’t provoke her anymore.
“Then stop falling,” barked the older man.
At the station, they climbed the stairs and waited on the platform. “They could be taking me to the ocean, not the river,” thought Angelina.
Once on the train, she was warm, warm enough to not want to end up in cold water. “I should scream,” she thought, “then someone will stop them from taking me to the ocean.” But right before yelling, she saw that they were heading over the Brooklyn Bridge to the city, not away from it.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going home,” snarled the younger brother.
“He’s lying,” thought Angelina. “Besides, my parents don’t want me.” Watching out the window, she recognized the Bowery with the train tracks hugging the sides of the street and darkening the storefronts. They passed the big hotel with the name she could never pronounce. Gazing down at her new coat, she had another thought. One Sunday dinner she had heard the grown-ups talk about people selling children. They were making her look nice because they were going to sell her, not kill her.
At the next stop, the older brother yanked again at her arm, pulling her out of the train. “Walk fast or I’ll carry you.”
Angelina tried to keep up with them as they pulled her down the Bowery. Ahead of her she saw the black marble columns of the Germania Bank Building across from the brick building that looked like it was holding an ice cream cone. This was her old neighborhood.
“Where are we going?” Angelina asked again, this time more tentatively.
“I told you. You’re going home,” muttered the younger brother.
“But my parents gave me up,” she practically whispered.
They were on Spring Street, a block from the corner of Elizabeth.
“Do you know how to get home from here?” asked the older man.
Angelina nodded but was confused.
“Go, then, go!” commanded the younger brother.
They had let go of her hand. She could run.
“Go!” they shouted at her.
Angelina ran as fast as she could, which wasn’t very fast, down Spring Street. She looked behind her, but they were gone. She could go home! But what if her parents didn’t let her in? Where would she go? She turned onto