Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [96]
“Concetta and Domenico Costa, Marianna Pontillo, the Arena Family. We live.”
In the dead of winter sweat poured between Giovanna’s breasts as she ran from Little Italy in search of her brother. She arrived at his job site, telegram waving in her hand. Lorenzo dropped his shovel and ran to her, knowing this would not be how she would announce their parents’ death. They embraced, crying and laughing, and then knelt on the frozen ground and prayed.
TWENTY-SIX
JANUARY 27, 1909
Rocco packed up his cart in the dim winter light. Snow was falling, and he was anxious to get the cart back before it accumulated. Giovanna stood at the apartment window and watched it fall. After seven years in New York, she still found snow a novelty. Her husband cursed it, but she looked forward to the first few hours when the soot of New York was blanketed in clean white crystals.
From the window, she had already seen Rocco turn the corner with his cart, heading to the garage. Knowing he was this close to home, she went to the stove, put the pasta in the boiling water, and stirred the chi chi beans in garlic and olive oil with her wooden spoon. The heat of the stove felt good. It was bitterly cold, and she had given away her warmest sweater the second time there was a collection for victims of the earthquake.
The girls were doing their homework and the table was set, so she went back to the window, pulling a shawl around her body. Rocco had just stepped aside to let a carriage pass, but it stopped in front of their building. She saw Rocco hurry toward it and realized it was Dr. Bellantoni’s carriage. The door opened and a man exited, but even from three flights up it was apparent that it was not Dr. Bellantoni. This man was thin and in clothes much like theirs. Rocco shook the man’s hand and escorted him into the building. Giovanna looked around her apartment to see if there was anything she could straighten up and opted instead to set another place at the table.
“Giovanna! There is someone here with news!” announced Rocco, coming through the door.
In the weeks since receiving the telegram, most of Giovanna’s time had been spent speculating about what had happened. After the initial elation of finding out that her loved ones had survived, she was filled with questions that went unanswered, despite her numerous letters and cables. It was difficult for Giovanna even to greet this man without first demanding information.
“Good evening, signora. I am Enrico Bellantoni, a cousin of Dr. Bellantoni. Until last month, I lived in Scilla.”
Giovanna stared at the man, hoping to recognize him, but didn’t. The man perceived her anxiousness and kept talking.
“I was in Naples for work when the earthquake hit. It took a week, but I returned to find I had no home. I saw the many cables from Dr. Bellantoni and decided to contact him. His family, like mine, is all gone.” The man crossed himself, and Giovanna realized her body had been blocking the entrance to the apartment and she hadn’t invited the man in.
“Signore Bellantoni, please, come sit and eat with us.”
The children had learned to be incredibly quiet since the tragedy struck. They assembled at the table, eager to be included in hearing the details firsthand.
“It’s a simple meal, Signore Bellantoni.”
“It is hot, signora, and in this weather that is all that matters. And, please, call me Enrico. There are few people left on this earth who can.”
“So, Dr. Bellantoni sent you?”
“Yes. I was able to make contact with him when I was in Italy, and I told him the devastating news. He sent money for me to come to New York and also gave me the names of your family members to look up before I sailed.”
The man hungrily slurped at his soup.
“Your husband told me that you’ve already received the wonderful news that your family is alive.” Although Enrico Bellantoni tried to sound positive, there was no escaping the underlying message of ‘but my family is not.’ “I found your family before coming here, and I have much to tell.”
The pasta remained untouched