The Fortunate Pilgrim - Mario Puzo [27]
It was twilight. Gino was surprised, and purposeful with the knowledge that he was now in trouble, he trotted down 31st Street to Tenth Avenue, trying hard to keep the look of surprise on his face. But no one in his family was among the people already sitting before the tenements, not even Sal. He ran up the four flights of stairs.
Passing the second floor, he heard Octavia and his mother screaming at each other. Worried, he slowed down. When he came into the apartment he saw them both nose to nose, red spots on their sallow cheeks, eyes flashing black. They both turned to him, quiet, menacing. But Gino, fascinated, had eyes only for his brother Vinnie, already seated at table. Vinnie’s face was powdered dead white with flour, his clothes were caked with it. He looked very tired, his eyes enormous and dark in that floury face.
“Ah. You’re home,” his mother was saying. “Bravo.#8221; Gino, noting that the two women were looking at him like judges, hurried to sit at the table so they would bring him food. He was starving. A stunning blow on the side of his head made him see stars, and through the dizziness his mother was shouting, “Sonamabitch. You escape the whole day. What did you do? And then the signor sits at table to eat without washing. Go. Figlio de puttana. Bestia. Vincenzo, wash also, you’ll feel better.” The two boys went to the kitchen sink to wash and came back to the table.
Tears were in Gino’s eyes—not because of the slap, but because of the terrible end to such a beautiful day. First a hero, then his mother and sister angry as if they hated him. He hung his head, shamed as any villain, not even hungry until his mother put a platter of sausages and peppers under his nose.
Octavia gave Gino one burning look and said to Lucia Santa, “He has to do his share. Why the hell should Vinnie work for him when his own father doesn’t give a damn? If he doesn’t work Vinnie quits the bakery. Vinnie’s going to have fun on his summer vacation, too.”
Without jealousy, Gino noticed that Octavia and his mother watched Vinnie with pity and love as he ate tiredly, listlessly. He could see that his sister was close to tears for some reason. He watched the two women fussing over Vinnie, serving him as if he were a grown man.
Gino put his hand in his pocket and took out the fifty cents and gave it to his mother. “I made this selling ice,” he said. “You can have it. I can bring home fifty cents every day.”
“You better make him stop stealing ice from the yards,” Octavia said.
Lucia Santa was impatient. “Eh, the railroad doesn’t care about children taking a little ice.” She looked at Gino, a curious warm smile on her face. “Bring your brother to the movies Sunday with the money,” she said. And she buttered a big piece of bread for him.
Vinnie’s face was still white, even with the flour gone. The strange lines of fatigue and tension, always obscene on the face of a child, made Octavia put her arm around him and say worriedly, “What did they make you do, Vinnie? Is the work too hard?”
Vinnie shrugged. “It’s O.K. It’s just so hot.” Then he added reluctantly, “I got dirty carrying sacks of flour from the cellar.”
Octavia understood. “The lousy bastards,” she spat out. To her mother she said, “Your dirty guinea paesan’ Panettiere making a kid like Vin carry those heavy sacks. When that son of his asks me for a date, I’ll spit in his face right in the street.”
Vinnie watched them hopefully. Octavia, so angry, might make him quit the job. Then he felt ashamed because his mother needed the money.
Lucia Santa shrugged