Stella Mia (31 page)

“Of course your parents didn't want you bringing up my mother. They hated her.”

“No, that's not true. They didn't approve of my marrying her, but they didn't hate her.”

I don't believe for a second that my grandparents cared about my mother, but I decide to let it go.

“So you were saying that you were in touch with her after she left. What happened?”

“Let me start at the beginning, although you might know about some of this already if it's in her diary.”

“The diary only covered the time shortly before she ran away from home until when she left for America with you.”

“Okay. So you must know from reading her diary how hard it was for her to leave her mother and siblings again?”

I nod my head. “Yes, she wrote about her family a lot, especially her guilt over running away and abandoning her family and then her sadness over leaving them when she left for America.” Suddenly, I realize that my mother's walking away from the people she loved had become a habit for her. First, she left her family when she ran away from home, then she left Carlo, and then she left Daddy and me.

“As you can imagine, it was very difficult for her, adjusting to life in a foreign country and one in which she didn't speak the language. I taught her a little English when I had the time, and she picked some up from watching soap operas on TV. But it wasn't just the language and cultural barrier that made life here so hard. Naturally, she missed her mother and siblings. But living in a large city like New York was something new for her. She really loved Sicily, and she was so accustomed to always being in contact with nature, whether that was the beach or the countryside. She told me she couldn't believe how much time Americans, or at least New Yorkers, spent indoors. That was very unusual for her since from the time she was little she was always outdoors. The winters here were especially tough on her. She hated the cold and even the snow, which she saw for the first time in her life when she came to New York. When I met your mother, she was living on the beach and was having a hard time making ends meet.”

“I read that in the diary.”

“I know that was part of the reason why she agreed to marry me and come here. I loved her very much, and I have no doubt she loved me in her own way, but I often questioned if my love and providing a stable life for her were enough.” Daddy's eyes look so far away and sad when he says this. And I know what he gave her wasn't enough. How could it have been when she had been in love with Carlo and probably was still in love with him even after she married Daddy?

“Anyway, I bent over backwards trying to make her happy. I showered gifts on her, took her to the famous sights in Manhattan. She did seem to enjoy many of the places we went to, but I always sensed a deeper sadness and even a restlessness in her. At first whenever I asked her what was the matter she would assure me she was fine. But eventually she did admit to me she missed her home very much.

“About six months after we were married, I began telling her I wanted to start a family. She seemed a bit reluctant, but I didn't question her, and then when she got pregnant with you three months later, I was so thrilled. She was also very happy and wasted no time before starting to knit clothes for you.”

“She knit clothes for me?”

“She did. They should be in the basement along with your other things from childhood. I made sure Aunt Donna saved them for when you would have your own kids.

“Well, her sadness over missing home and her family seemed to turn the corner while she was pregnant with you. She truly was looking forward to becoming a mother, and I saw a glow in her I had never seen before. But not long after you were born, her depression returned, and at times it was so bad that she wouldn't get out of bed. We didn't know about this then, but looking back now, I realize she must've had postpartum depression. I was watching Oprah a few years ago, and she did a show on it.”

I notice Kyle roll his eyes.

“Sarina sensed something was the matter with her and would tell me she was disgusted with herself for not snapping out of it, especially now that she had such a beautiful baby. The only time she seemed at peace was when she was holding you and singing to you. She loved singing this song called ‘Stella Mia
'
over and over to you.”

“I remember the song.”

“You do?”

I nod my head. “It's one of the few things I remember about her. I read in her diary that she had made up the song herself and used to sing it to her little sister, Carlotta.”

“That's right. Sarina mentioned to me that Carlotta loved that song. She used to call you her
stella mia
. ‘You are my star, my beautiful shining little star,' she would say.”

Tear spring to my eyes as I remember how she wrote in her diary that Carlo had called her his
stella mia
. I let the tears flow freely down my face. Hearing all of this stuff about my mother hurts so much. Perhaps my father was right in shielding me all those years? Kyle comes over and places his arm around my shoulders. This time, I don't pull away, but instead lean into him.

“So she would have these mood swings. One moment, she was content, and the next she was saying she had made a mistake coming to America. Then she started talking crazy.” Daddy looks likes he's about to continue, but instead stops.

“Don't hold back now. I need to hear it all, even the bad stuff.”

Daddy's eyes meet mine. He nods his head and then looks down before he continues.

“As I was saying, she started talking crazy. She said that maybe she wasn't cut out to be a mother and that it wasn't fair to you since she couldn't shake her depression. She said a child needs to see her parent happy and confident. Then one day, she caught you playing with her favorite bracelet. It had a fish trinket dangling from it. She—” Daddy stops talking once again, and I notice his gaze is fixed on my wrist. Glancing down, I see what he's staring at—my bracelet. My hand covers my mouth.

“This was
her
bracelet?”

Daddy nods his head.

Of course. I had read about the bracelet in Sarina's diary. Carlo had given her the bracelet as a gift after they made love for the first time when they were in Filicudi. How could I not have made the connection that my bracelet was the same one? I look at my bracelet, and a shiver runs through me now that I realize it belonged to her.

“But I remember when you gave it to me, right after I graduated from kindergarten.” I stare at my bracelet. Of course, it was too big for me to wear when Daddy gave it to me when I was five. He had doubled it around my wrist and secured it with a safety pin.

“She had told me she wanted you to have it. She felt horrible that she had lost her temper that time when she found you with it. She hit you on the arm. When Sarina realized what she'd done, she started screaming that she was no better than her father. I told her she was overreacting, and there was no way she could ever be like her father. But she wouldn't hear it.”

“Is that the only time she hit me?”

“That I know of. But it's not like I ever came home and found you with bruises or any other marks. She did yell at you a few times, especially when she was in one of her darker moods. But I also saw how she adored you. I still to this day don't believe that she would've become her father.”

I'm kind of amazed that my mother had the foresight to see that she could possibly continue her father's cycle of abuse and become the abuser. Then again, from her diary, I could tell she was a very smart, intelligent woman. I glance down at my bracelet again. I'm not surprised she'd gotten upset when she found me playing with it since I know how much this bracelet meant to her. But then she decided to give it up and let me have it. That alone shows me she did love me.

“Are you feeling all right, Julia? Maybe we should stop talking about this—at least for tonight,” Kyle asks me. His face looks somber.

“I'm fine. I want to hear it all. Please, Daddy, go on.”

“About six months before Sarina left, she stopped receiving letters from her mother. Sarina thought that her father had probably intercepted them and put a stop to her mother's writing to her. She tried writing to her mother, but nothing—until finally her cousin Agata wrote to her. Agata explained that Sarina's father had died earlier that year of a heart attack. Sarina's father had few savings, and they had already run through all of the money. They were struggling to survive. Agata was helping them as much as she could, but she and her husband were also having financial problems. She asked Sarina if she could send them any money. Agata also mentioned that she was worried about Sarina's mother. She had lost a lot of weight and hadn't been feeling well, but they didn't have the money to go to the doctor.

“Naturally, Sarina told me she wanted to go to Sicily. I hate to say this, but I didn't want her to go, and I told her that.”

“How could you not want her to go, especially if her mother was sick?”

“I know it was horrible of me to tell her that, but I think I knew deep down that if she returned to Sicily, she might never come back. I told her we could send her family as much money as they needed since my family was well-off. But your mother had a lot of pride, especially where money was involved. You remind me of her that way.” Daddy looks at me and smiles.

“She did accept some money from me to give to her family, but she said she couldn't expect me to continually support her family. I told her I didn't mind, but she wouldn't hear of it. She said she would go to Sicily—just for a little while—and find some work so she could help them out until they were back on their feet. I told her that was crazy since they needed regular income and her mother didn't work. But Sarina said that her mother could take in seamstress work and do other jobs, once she was feeling better. We got into an argument. I told her that you were too young for her to take an extended trip. She said that Aunt Donna and my parents could help while she was gone. And again, she said it would just be for a little while. In the end, I gave up. But even if I had insisted that she not go, I'm sure she would've left in the middle of the night. When she got something in her head, there was no stopping her.

“She was only supposed to be gone for a month. But then shortly after she arrived in Sicily, she learned her mother had stomach cancer. Naturally, she couldn't leave then, and I wouldn't have expected her to. So the one month she was supposed to be there turned into several as she cared for her mother and siblings. After six months, her mother died. I waited several weeks after she buried her mother to ask her when she was returning home. I didn't want to upset her and knew she had a lot on her plate with her mother's funeral and all. But she wouldn't bring it up. So I did. I told her she could bring her siblings to come live with us in America. But she told me she was afraid they wouldn't adjust to life here. After all, it had been so hard on her, and she hadn't been as young as they were. I got upset and told her to just admit to me that she was the one who didn't want to come back, and that it had nothing to do with how well her siblings would adapt to America. She tried to deny it, but I broke her down, and finally she admitted that she couldn't come back. She told me she was afraid that if she returned she would take her own life—that's how bad her depression was. I had known she had been depressed, but I had had no idea it was that severe. Then she brought up again that she was afraid she would hit you, and that if she did, that's all it would take to cause her to end her life. I tried telling her that I would get her help and take her to the best doctors. But again, in her stubbornness she refused to listen to reason. She said if she killed herself, then you would have that scar for the rest of your life. I went into a rage. I asked her how she thought you would feel growing up without a mother, with a mother who abandoned her. Sarina said I could send you to Sicily for the summers when you got older. I told her I wouldn't do that to you and that you deserved a full-time mother, not a summer mother. I then accused her of making up this excuse about committing suicide so that she wouldn't be painting herself as the bad guy. That upset her. She began crying hysterically. I can still hear her sobs in my head. I'd never heard her cry like that before. Guilt immediately washed over me, but I was torn between feeling sorry for her and wanting to kill her for what she was doing to us, especially to you.” Daddy's voice chokes up.

“Let me get you a glass of water.” Kyle begins walking away, but Daddy stops him.

“Better make that a shot of whiskey. I need it.”

Kyle nods his head and leaves.

“I don't think I've ever been as mad as I was that day—or as sad. Even though I was angry with her, I still tried to convince her to come back for your sake. I told her it would be different since now she would have her siblings with her as well, and we could all be one big happy family. Nothing I said got through. After two years of trying to persuade her to come back, I finally gave up. Sarina begged me to still send her updates on you and photos. I did. Eventually, she became vague whenever I asked how she was and what her life was like there. I couldn't understand why she had suddenly clammed up. All she told me was that she was working and was supporting her siblings.

“Anyway, Sarina and I communicated by letter for several years after she left, but then one day she told me to send the letters to a post office box because they had moved somewhere rural where mail wasn't delivered to homes. I didn't buy it. I got tired of her games and stopped writing. She still wrote from time to time, but I haven't received a letter from her since shortly after you got married. I actually broke and sent her a photo of your wedding. That's how she knew you'd gotten married.”