The Patron Saint of Ugly (14 page)

I stare into his eyes and could-a see a lush vineyard rolling across his hazel irises. “I do. I have-a the
profezia
. I see it.”

I confess. I love-a this boy and his dreams but in a holy and innocent kind-a way. Of course we keep all this a secret from our parents, and especially from Dominick, since if I break-a his heart he might break-a Angelo’s arm. I asked Angelo one-a time why he was so devoted to his brother who was-a so mean to everyone but me—at least back-a then. Angelo shook his head and lifted his shirt to show me his bony ribs and skinny-skinny waist.

“You see these bruises?”

I lean in close, but I no see the bruises. “No.”

“Exactly. Dominick takes not only his beatings from our father but the ones meant for me too.”

I am-a stunned. “Why would he do that?”

“He says that’s what older brothers should-a do.”

I ponder this thing that makes me look at Dominick different, but not different enough.

So now I get back to the night when our town, she gets the electric. It was the last night of the harvest so Angelo and I stood side by side in the piazza, but not too close since we were in-a public. We watched the mayor and other village officials prop a ladder against the streetlight pole. Mayor climbed up with the bulb in his hand as the brass band, she played. Once he screwed the bulb in and it glowed I was enchanted (but not in the evil-eye way) since it look-a like the bright heat I see bubbling so many times from Mount Etna. Angelo brushed his arm against mine and I felt a different type of electric. He must have felt it too, because he look at me and his eyes are so warm, but just then Dominick appeared with two gelatos in-a his hands. When he saw the sparks bouncing between his brother and me, he drop the gelatos and shove Angelo’s shoulder so hard he stumble backwards. I was
furioso
, and that streetlight hum and buzz.

Then Dominick look at-a me. “You!” His face was filled with something, but it wasn’t anger, at least I didn’t think so until I saw him make-a the fist like he’s gonna clock me for sure. But Dominick crack his brother in the jaw so hard Angelo flew five-a feet in the air and crashed into an ox cart.

I open my mouth to yell, my blood boiling like a pot of ragù on-a the stove, but before any words fly from my lips the street lamp blow up. The town is-a thrown into darkness and I hear Dominick’s footsteps running away.

Eventually they fix-a the streetlight and string wires all over town. Ciaffaglione got a light bulb dangling from the ceiling in every room of-a his house, but he no put electric in our falling-down house.

The next harvest season the brothers return. Angelo and me continue to wink at each other during Mass and make-a the picnic by La Vergine in her own grotto. Angelo talk about learning to sculpt gargoyle drain spouts and how much money he’d have to save-a to buy the vineyard. This was also when I getta my
seni
, or, how you say it, breasts, and Dominick begin-a to stare at me in a funny way.

One night I’m in-a my bedroom making the sponge bath, so I’m-a strip to the waist, and I feel someone watching. I’m afraid someone has climbed up my trellis to spy, so I slip back on-a my dress. When I look out no one is-a there. Still, I feel the staring eyeballs, so I look over at the Ciaffagliones’ house and see in an upstairs window a boy in a newsie cap holding a telescope to his eyes, the ceiling light bulb burning behind him. I hear Dominick calling in the distance, “Why you no love me and let me bury my face in those beautiful pillows!” My face, she boils, and soon that light bulb sputters and
pop!
outta she blows. In-a the distance I hear Dominick cuss. “Son-ama-beetch! I can no wait to move to America where the lights never go out!”

When I turn-a sixteen Mamma finally allow me to hike down to Messina by myself to watch for the boat that bring in the Calabrese harvesters for the season, including my Angelo. I take a blanket to sit on-a the beach so the sun can pink up-a my cheeks. I also like to comb my hair there because the salty air give me the nice-a curls. As I’m-a brushing and brushing I see the blue boat that I know will bring Angelo to me. I get up and run to the water and squint at the men in the bow. I look for Angelo’s bushy hair, but I no see it, and I no see it even as the boat comes closer and closer and pulls up to the shore. I watch as the men disembark one-a by one, but there is no Angelo, only Dominick, who is lugging not only his own suitcase but Angelo’s. Dominick laughs when he looks at-a me. “Stupid
bastardo
miss-a the boat, so now you’re left with only a-me.” He try to grab my hand but I yank it away.

“
Cretino
shouldn’t be so gullible,” one of the other pickers say.

The two men start the long hike up-a the hill, but when Dominick look over his shoulder at-a me, I only huff and stomp off.

I wonder what meanness Dominick do to make his brother miss-a the boat, the whole harvest season, and especially me! My heart sink as I think about having to wait another year to see Angelo. I trudge to the blanket and collapse, crying like the gulls that are hovering over me like kites in-a the wind.

When I can weep-a no more I dab the tears from my cheek with my hair. As I sit there coddling my sadness I stare across the water at Calabria in the distance, hoping that maybe Angelo is standing on-a the beach looking across at me. And then I see something bob in-a the water and I squint to make out if it’s a dolphin or albacore or even the Pining Nereid. It looks more like a cantaloupe bobbling, but with arms and legs a-kicking behind as it swim toward shore.

I hold-a my breath and wonder if I should run away, but it’s such an odd sight I can no peel my eyes from it. When it reach-a the shore it pulls itself up and I am amazed at the sight of a man climbing from-a the surf! And this man is as beautiful as Michelangelo’s
David
. He’s bare-chested and the muscles in his arms make-a my heart go thumpety-thump. His wet hair hangs down his neck, his pants clinging to his-a thighs. I feel a little guilty like I’m-a cheating on Angelo, who always was a small boy. But the man walks directly to me, his mouth opening, and out spills, “Diamante! Diamante!”

Then I know who it is. Angelo! Who grew five inches taller since the last harvest season and lay in his muscles that make-a my breath shallow.

I stand up as he gets to me and says, “Your hair has-a gotten so long!” He reach for my curls and I jump into his vineyard eyes. We are like magnets pulling together, but we resist the embrace since the fishmongers are watching. Instead we walk up-a the hill, his damp arm grazing mine, and I love him more than ever, but now also with a longing that is no longer so innocent. So, unlike the version I hear Garney tell-a you, Padre, that is the truth about the day I see a man rising from-a the sea. I no get the knocked up behind a dry-docked fishing boat!

Anyway, that night, even before the men begin to pick-a the grapes, Angelo and I make a picnic beside La Vergine. After we eat, Angelo pulls from his pocket a leather pouch stuffed with more lire than I had ever seen in-a my life. I was-a thinking it’s a good thing Dominick didn’t find that when he stole his brother’s suitcase. Angelo had-a been saving all these years not only from his job as a grape picker but his job as a stonemason, since he’d begun to get paid for that too. He said this was our nest-a egg, and when he turned eighteen he wanted to start his new life with a-me.

“You mean you wanna marry me?”

Angelo reach over and pluck a Pergusa blossom to tuck into my hair. He lean in close to smell the red petals, then take-a my hand into his. “Yes. And we begin to build a big, big
famiglia
.”

“Oh, Angelo. Yes-yes-yes! I hope to birth to you many, many sons.”

“Daughters!” Angelo said, his eyes smiling so bright. “I want nothing but daughters so I can adore them all!”

I almost cry from the happiness, and I look up to heaven and wonder what I do to deserve such a man.

“I’ll ask your father’s
permesso
in the morning.”

For the first time Angelo take my face in-a his hands and he kissed my mouth, his lips as plump and sweet as the Orgoglio della Sicilia grapes he had been eating for years. My in-a-sides go all wiggly and I nearly swoon from that kiss that is so long and a-deep, until I hear a rustling in the bushes. Angelo and I both look up just in time to see a figure running away, one hand holding on to his newsie cap.

The next morning Angelo no have-a time to ask my father’s
permesso
, because during the night someone had torn down a part of our wall stone-a by stone so that every single goat got out and ran to Ciaffagliones’ vineyard, where they ate more than half of-a the harvest. The goats’ bellies were swollen, but they were still yanking down grape clusters as fast as they could, dashing and darting as we tried to herd-a them back home. It took several hours to round them up and mend-a the fence.

Afterward everyone gathered by the water pump between our house and the Ciaffagliones’ so we could-a wash off the sweat and goat stink: my father and mother, Angelo and me, all the other male relatives. Except Dominick and Signore Ciaffaglione, who had-a gone missing a few hours before.

Soon out of the front door of the big house comes Signore and Dominick. I hold-a my breath because I know my father has to figure a way to pay Ciaffaglione for the damage. My father take-a the deep breath and walk over, Angelo and I following close behind.

Before Signore has the chance to speak, my father remove-a his hat. “Of course I will pay restitution-a, sir.”

A little smoke shoot from Ciaffaglione’s mouth. “You bet-a you will. But just how do you propose to do it?”

My father stares at the ground because there really is-a no way.

Signore looked my father up and down. “That’s what-a I thought. I’m going to have to take all of your goats and put you and your
famiglia
out, since I could rent-a this property for much more than-a you’re paying now.”

“No!” Mamma cry, though she speech very little in public because of her missing a-teeth.

“But Signore,” my father pleaded, “we have no place to go.”

“That’s not-a my concern. But I am not heartless. Is there no one who has-a the money to pay for this a-loss?”

My father shuffle his a-feet because there was no one for sure.

Dominick looked at me funny and nudged Signore in-a the ribs. Signore brushed him off. “Be patient.”

There was this spooky silence without even the sound of a bird until my mother starts-a to cry as she, like me, wonders where we will go.

And then Angelo opens his mouth. “I’ll pay, Uncle.”

“You?” Signore said as everyone swivel around to see Angelo pull our nest-a egg from his pocket and hold it out.

I wanted to cry at his kindness, but also for our future going up in a-smoke.

Dominick rushed forward and grab-a the pouch from the little brother who is now taller than him and raced back to hand Angelo’s hard-earned money to their uncle.

Signore opened the pouch to poke his finger through the coins. Drool spilled from his mouth, but again Dominick jab his uncle in-a the ribs. “I no forget,” Signore says. He rifles through the bag and begin to tsk-tsk. He look at-a my father. “This will cover some of-a the loss, but not all. I’m-a still going to have to kick you out of the house and put in new renters who can pay much-much more.”

Again Mamma screech, “No!”

Father put his arm around Mamma’s shoulder. “Signore Ciaffaglione. Is there nothing we can-a do?”

Signore look at-a me. “Yes. The slate, she be wiped clean if your daughter marries my nephew.”

For a second I’m-a confuse and then happy, since I think he means Angelo, but then Angelo yells, “No!” and I understand which-a nephew Signore mean.

I look at Dominick, who can’t even look-a me in the eye.

Mamma, she collapses all the way to the ground. “You no take-a my daughter!”

My father also falls to his knees in a-beseech. “Signore. Please. Not-a my only child.”

Signore flaps his-a hand as if they are squabbling over a pound of a-cheese. “It make a-no difference to me. Either your daughter or your house.”

Mamma’s head, she flops down, but my father looks at me with such-a love, my heart nearly splits in two. He opens his-a mouth and I know he’s-a gonna say,
Take-a the house
. But really, where they gonna go when they no have-a the money or strength to start over?

Before he can-a speech I say, “I’ll do it.”

Angelo shrieks, “No!” and falls to his knees, holding my hands in his. “Don’t do this-a thing!”

I look into his hazel irises with the vineyard inside. “I have to, Angelo.”

Now his head flops down because he knows he would do the same thing for his mamma if he was in-a my shoes.

Then Signore, that son-ama-beetch, reach in-a the pouch and pull out several coins to plunk in Dominick’s mean hand. “That should-a pay your way to America, and your new wife’s too.”

Mamma and Angelo melt into puddles on the ground.

Two days later I’m-a standing before Padre Ponzo facing Dominick, who I hardly recognize because he’s-a scrubbed so clean and wearing a new suit, but no cap. As Padre make us repeat the wedding vows I confess that in-a my head I swap Dominick’s name for Angelo’s. I even close my eyes and pretend it’s Angelo sealing my lips with a kiss, looping his arm-a through mine to walk out of-a the church.

But on the way to the boat I remember whose arm is-a claiming me and I start to cry when we walk up the gang-a-plank onto the boat that will bring me and Dominick to America. It was dusk when-a we set sail; the street lamps’ glow bounce off the
famiglie
on the dock who wave-a bye-bye from the shore to their kin they will never see again, and I see my parents and my Angelo, who is crying a waterfall. Then I’m a-weeping too, the tears filming my eyes so I no see so good, the street lamps going fuzzy and I hear them crackling even from the boat until they dim and fizzle out one-a by one.

For two weeks in the steerage I chant Angelo’s name over and over like a rosary so Dominick no try to sleep with-a me. He let me have our only blanket and every day after he went up on deck he’d come back with some gift: a hard-boiled egg, a bar of-a soap, a satin ribbon. But then came the night when he got under the blanket with-a me and I know what he want. He even wrap his arm around me and make-a confess I never expected to hear. “Diamante. I have been in-a love with you since the first time I see your red-a hair.” He run his fingers over my head and pretend not to see me wince. “This is the only way I know how to make-a you my wife. I promise to give you a good life and be a good-a husband.”