Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [40]
Covering the swordfish with dirt, she said a prayer to Saint Rocco and vowed to Nunzio to watch over all that he loved in Scilla. She took the coins and dropped them into the second hole. She told Nunzio that if there was justice to seek in his death, she would pursue it, and she prayed to Saint Joseph to guide her efforts. Her tears began flowing down her cheeks once again when she buried the G and N cookies wrapped in her wedding dress. Her prayer and promise became one as she vowed to Nunzio and Saint Valentine that she would never love another as she loved Nunzio.
The chestnut curl of her hair was tied with a thread, and Giovanna held it tight before putting it in the dirt. This was the hardest promise to make, and she prayed to Saint Anne, the patron saint of laboring mothers, for help. Lorenzo, seeing her silence and concentration, tipped his hat and walked away. With Lorenzo gone, Giovanna took the hair and pressed it into the ground with both hands and vowed to Nunzio Pontillo what she knew he would want the most—that she would go on living.
Life in the Costa household settled into a routine. Giovanna helped Teresa, who was in the fifth month of a difficult pregnancy, with the housework and children. Domenico and Concetta were in school, and the baby who was born before Nunzio died was now toddling around. After a month, Giovanna mentioned to Lorenzo that she would try to find work as a seamstress or take in piecework, but Lorenzo asked that she continue to help Teresa until the baby was born.
Teresa encouraged Lorenzo to let Giovanna find a job, because in truth she was not comfortable with her around. It was not because Giovanna was not helpful; in fact, Teresa thought Giovanna was too helpful. Teresa came up to Giovanna’s chest, so she felt diminished even before Giovanna did anything. And when Giovanna did something, in Teresa’s mind, she always did it better than Teresa did. Giovanna could lift and carry double what Teresa could, but it was how quickly and efficiently Giovanna accomplished everything that intimidated Teresa. Teresa still did the cooking—she would not relinquish her kitchen—but even when Giovanna remarked that a dish was delicious or asked how something was made, Teresa felt threatened.
Nothing bothered Teresa more, however, than seeing Giovanna help the children at the table in the evenings with their letters—and watching them teach Giovanna English. One evening when Lorenzo was out at the cafe, Giovanna asked Teresa to join them, saying, “Come, Teresa, we’ll learn together.” Teresa pretended to be too busy and brushed them off with a terse, “I don’t have time for that.”
For his part, Lorenzo was oblivious to his wife’s discomfort. He was glad to have his sister with him; it eased his homesickness and allowed him more freedom, because he worried less about his wife’s precarious pregnancy with Giovanna around.
But Giovanna saw that Teresa needed her privacy, and on her fourth Sunday in America, she decided to leave her alone to prepare the meal. The children watched Giovanna dress in hopes that even though Zio Nunzio was gone, they could still have a Sunday adventure; eventually, little Concetta worked up the nerve to ask Giovanna where she was going. When Giovanna answered that she was going to the cemetery, the children were only slightly disappointed. They knew the outing would at least involve a trolley ride, so they enthusiastically asked to join her, heads rotating from their mother to their aunt for approval. Giovanna waited for Teresa to answer first. Moved by this respect accorded her and by the children’s longing, Teresa reluctantly said yes. The children ran for their Sunday clothes, because leaving the neighborhood meant dressing their best. Giovanna waited by the door in her black dress and head scarf while Teresa