Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [150]
“I must go out. I fed Concetta. And please, when Angelina and Anthony get home from school, see that they do their chores.”
Giovanna walked a full lap around Hoboken’s square mile. She headed up First Street, passing what she called her hometown fish market—the one with a swordfish for a sign. She went north along the waterfront, past the ships, which were being loaded and unloaded by swarms of dockworkers. She shivered at the sight of the big German ship that had just been seized by the Americans at the pier. Her nephew Antonio was already fighting for Italy in the war. She prayed every day for his survival, because she knew that either fate or her will would bring Antonio to America to marry Angelina.
Turning west at the north end where the ships were in dry dock for repair, Giovanna avoided the hustle and bustle of Washington Street by walking south on Willow Avenue. She passed the library with its copper dome and the new high school that Mary had just graduated from. When she walked back east toward the river, this time she kept walking straight onto the ferry.
She was shaking, in part because she was going back to New York City for the first time in five years, and in part because she didn’t have a clue what to say to Lucrezia or whether she would even see her. She didn’t even know if Lucrezia was in a hospital.
Giovanna had seen the Madonna in the harbor four times. The last time was when they moved to Hoboken. She remembered wondering whether the watery distance created by the river would keep them safe. It was like looking from Scilla across the Strait of Messina at the black smoke of the volcano. On the Hoboken shore, New York became a distant but visible threat.
New York City had never been her choice. And possibly because of that, she didn’t trust the place. How could one piece of land support so much weight? How could they keep digging tunnels and not have the streets collapse? How long would it take before one of those trains fell from the overhead tracks? In her search for Angelina, she had traveled all over the city without really seeing it. With her daughter abducted, Giovanna felt every square inch of New York had become inhospitable. Even after Angelina was returned, the metropolis continued to overwhelm her, and she could no longer take comfort in the privacy of its crowded streets because she knew how many eyes were really watching. She had come to, and left, New York City as a foreigner. Hoboken was her home now. She had chosen it.
Pacing the perimeter of the ferry, she tried to sort through her conflicting emotions, starting with guilt but always ending in deep sorrow. She came to the heartbreaking realization that this might be the second time she would lose Lucrezia.
Walking off the boat, Giovanna was struck by how accustomed she had become to life in Hoboken. New York City seemed so crowded and fast—far more than she remembered—possibly because there seemed to be so many more automobiles competing for street space with the trolleys and horses. Anxious to escape the streams of people surging through downtown and exhausted from her walk in Hoboken, Giovanna took the train.
When she got to Lucrezia’s block, it felt as if nothing had changed. She could have been arriving after delivering a baby, or coming to visit her friend with a newspaper in hand. The same old woman sat on the stoop next door.
“Did you come to see the signora?” She greeted Giovanna without missing a beat.
“Yes. Is she upstairs?”
“She is.”
Giovanna started up the stoop but turned to ask, “Is her husband with her?”
“I saw him leave. But her daughter’s up there.”
As she opened the outside door, Giovanna became aware that she was visiting empty-handed. She’d been so determined to get there and unsure of whether she would even see Lucrezia that bringing something hadn’t crossed her mind.