The Wine of Youth (9 page)

“Come, come!” he said. “Why so gloomy?”

He reached into his pockets and drew out all his silver and began dividing it among us. It wouldn't divide evenly. With an impatient smile he poured all the coins into Tony's hands. “Divide it among yourselves.” We thanked him without enthusiasm. As we retreated to the front part of the house, he stood in the kitchen door and scratched his head, his face lined with amazement.

“What's the matter with them?”

“They are probably tired,” Mamma said.

But what about the mysterious Coletta Drigo? Our eagerness to see her made us stiffen at the slightest sound on the front porch. Hugo put his nose against the crack at the base of the door and lay there waiting, now and then growling uncertainly.

In the kitchen Papa poured wine for himself and Dino. His voice had a wild, defensive tone. He seemed eager to distract Dino, and he went to absurd lengths to make Dino comfortable. He made foolish inquiries about Dino's health, his business, and how are you sleeping these nights, Dino, and is your wine cold enough, and how do you like the weather we're having? If Dino was suspicious, he concealed it, for he acted as always, his voice as gentle as his eyes.

“Dinner's ready,” Mamma said. “Of course, that woman
would
be late.”

“Someone else is coming?” Dino said.

Papa pretended to be astonished.

“Why, yes, Dino. Coletta Drigo is coming. Didn't you know? Didn't Maria tell you?”

“I was not told,” Dino said.

Papa shouted at Mamma: “What's the idea, not telling Dino Coletta was coming? Didn't I tell you to tell him? What kind of a woman are you, anyway?”

Mamma's eyes were balls of ice.

“Now listen to me. I had nothing to do with this, understand? Absolutely nothing.”

It quieted Papa, who purpled with a quiet rage. He walked out of the kitchen and came toward us in the front room, all ten fingers attacking his hair, his face like choppy water as he pulled back the curtain and looked into the street.

“She'll be here any minute now,” he said to himself.

We knew why he had walked out of the kitchen: he was blundering, making a mess of the whole thing, and he had fled from Dino's calmness in order to get his bearings. There was sure to be a fight after Dino left tonight. Papa carried his grudges to the bitter end, and he would not forget that Mamma had failed to co-operate.

He was on his way back to the kitchen when Hugo began to bark and we heard a car stop in front of the house. Papa hurried back to the window and looked out. “She's come!” he shouted. “She's here!” It brought Mamma and Dino with frightened faces from the kitchen. Papa and Hugo ran outside, Hugo leaping joyfully. We got up and stood at the door in time to see Papa throw his arms around a woman taller than himself and kiss her on the cheek. Papa kissing another woman! Even Hugo looked amazed.

In the darkness we could not see her face, but her silhouette against the street lamp was round, soft, and stately. With arms locked, she and Papa entered. The sight of her, the sheer beauty of that woman, left us stunned, our mouths open as she looked down at us, her white teeth flashing.

Papa introduced us; I was first, then Tony, then Clara, and finally Mike. Hugo stood there laughing happily, his tongue hanging out, but he was only a dog, and everybody ignored him. We couldn't help feeling very proud of Papa, a mere bricklayer, but for all that a man who could be at ease in the presence of such beauty as we had never seen before. When she took my hand and pressed it with long, soft fingers, heavy gold bracelets at her wrists tinkling like bells, I was so upset that I giggled out loud.

I couldn't help envying Tony. Coletta put her arm around him and wove her fingers through his hair as she pressed him against her. He was overcome with delight, his face suffused with a smile I had never seen before. For a moment he seemed frightened, and then he raised his arms and gave himself languidly to her, his arms about her waist, his eyes closed as he pressed himself against her.

Mamma and Dino came from the kitchen. Mamma's face was hard, but Dino seemed ready for anything. Mamma wiped her
hands on her apron and shook Coletta's hand. “How do you do?” Mamma said.

“Very well, thank you,” Coletta said. “And you, Mrs. Toscana?”

Mamma didn't answer.

They were about the same age, but thirty-five years might have been forty-five if Mamma's face had been a place for measuring time, while Coletta's might have been twenty-five. You saw four children in Mamma's face, you even saw Hugo there; you saw centuries of worry, ages of toil, aeons of work and distress. There was no record of children upon the face of Coletta Drigo, nor of worry, nor of distress; instead you saw a rare nuance of youth to maturity; you saw excitement; you saw great cities, happy times, the whole wonderful world; and, above all, her beauty, black hair, black eyes, the dark whitish skin. You were sure that if she had a pet it wasn't a dog but a cat, a Siamese cat.

Standing beside Mamma, Dino seemed more than ever like one of us, our brother or our uncle, and the beauty of Coletta Drigo made her lonely and unique among us. She gave Dino her hand, held it out like a limp white dove, and smiled as Dino rubbed the perspiration from his palm upon his thigh and took her hand with breathless hesitancy. He squeezed it faintly, his head bowed so that she saw the beginning of baldness at the crown of his head. Her black eyes opened wider with that look of recognition, as if marking him, as though to herself she were saying: “So
this
is the fellow!”

“It is an honor to know you,” Dino said.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, Dino.”

His name formed by her lips gave him strength. He looked at her bravely, a change coming over his face and body, happiness in his smile. Papa bustled around, nervous and grinning, and we could see that already he was beginning to feel that after all the dinner would be a success.

He pulled up a chair for Coletta, who peeled off her fur in a strange way that made me think she was naked beneath it. Mike and Tony and I held our breath, watched the tight black satin appear beneath the coat, and as one we rushed to take the coat from her. It ended in a tie, eight fists strangling the black and white fur. Hugo sank his teeth into a dangling sleeve and tugged
too, until Papa forced his jaws loose. We carried the fur into Mamma's room, and spread it lovingly upon the bed. Then Mike grabbed it between his arms and pushed his face into the deep collar.

“Holy Moses! Smell it—gee!”

“Perfume,” Clara said.

Hugo sneezed.

 

It was a dinner to remember. Papa insisted that Dino sit next to Coletta, but Dino had already found a place for himself between Mike and me. Mamma came from the kitchen and stared coldly at Coletta.

“I'm not hungry tonight,” Mamma said. “I couldn't possibly eat a thing.” Since Mamma's place was always between Papa and Dino that chair was now left vacant.

“Good!” Papa blurted out. “That's fine. Coletta, you sit in my wife's place, and, Dino, you come over here and sit beside Coletta.”

Coletta arose and slid sensuously into Mamma's chair. Every time she moved it made me think she was naked. Dino was very polite, but he declined to move. He put his arms around Mike and me, his hands resting on our shoulders.

“I am content here,” he said. “Between my two boys.”

“You're my guest!” Papa said, banging the table with his fist. “You got to sit where I tell you.”

Coletta dropped her eyes.

“Perhaps Dino doesn't wish to sit next to me,” she murmured.

Dino leaped to his feet. He bowed grandly.

“Forgive me,” he said in his polite Italian. “I meant no offense, Signorina Drigo. It would bring me great joy to sit next to you.”

“Now you're talking!” Papa said. “Now we're getting some place. Sit down there, Dino, and let's eat. I'm hungry as hell. Maria!”

Mamma appeared from the kitchen.

“What do you want?”

“Food!” Papa yelled, his earlier gallantry gone. “What the hell do you think I want?”

Without a word Mamma served us. She filled the middle of that wide mahogany table with platters of chicken cacciatore and
ravioli. She appeared with bowls of salad and vegetables. Her face was gray and stony; her eyes looked straight ahead. Not once did she speak. One word from her, one smile, and the dinner might have been saved. Instead it was a disaster. Her appearance from the kitchen brought a tenseness that forbade eating. The moment she was gone again Papa tried to lighten the silence with frantic stabs at conversation. It only increased the tension. The dinner was ruined and everyone knew it, especially Coletta.

But not Dino. He was the some old Dino, his ready smile and gentle eyes unmoved by the conflict about him. While the rest of is dabbled with our forks, he took two big helpings of everything, chewing and swallowing with the same slow, idolatrous reverence for Mamma's cooking.

Dessert was chocolate cake. Chocolate cake! The magic of Mamma's chocolate cake! We would have died for chocolate cake, we kids, but that night we just didn't want any chocolate cake. Nobody wanted any chocolate cake. Coffee, yes. Even Coletta agreed to a cup of black coffee, but no cake.

Except Dino. Impatiently we watched him eat one piece and then ask for another, his eyes full of adoration for each mouthful. Coletta sat with her chin high, a brave smile on her lips. Once she opened her purse, drew out a pack of cigarettes, considered them momentarily, and closed the purse with a resigned snap. We felt sorry for Coletta. Mamma's taciturn revolt was an attack upon her, and she seemed so alone, like an injured beautiful bird. We were ashamed of Mamma's cruelty. We pitied Papa, who kept breaking the silence with pathetic outbursts such as “Swell dinner!” and “Boy, what food!” and “Best meal I ever had.” As for Dino, he ate with the appetite of a little pig.

As he finished the last of his cake, Mamma gathered the soiled dishes. Dino rose to help her.

“Please, Dino,” Mamma said, “don't trouble yourself.”

“Ah, Maria,” Dino said, “to do this is little enough after such exquisite food.”

Papa winked at Coletta.

“So! It's not enough that you refuse to sit next to the guest of honor. Now you want to leave her with me while you help my wife with a pile of dirty dishes!”

“Perhaps we could all help, “Dino said.

“Of course!” Coletta agreed, standing up.

But Mamma wouldn't have it. Plainly, she wanted no part of Coletta Drigo in her kitchen. The argument ended with Mamma and Clara doing the work, the rest of us gathering in the front room. Coletta slid her hands beneath her hips, smoothing back her dress as she sat in the middle of the divan. Leaning back, she sighed. Papa thumped himself down beside her. We sprawled on the carpet in the middle of the room, lying on our stomachs and gazing at the beautiful woman. She had crossed her legs, and her silken knees were like golden oranges. We stared in wonder and delight. Hugo cocked his head and lifted his ears. On the other side of the room, over in the corner, Dino had found a rocker. Lighting a cigar, he sent the smoke thinly from the corner of his mouth.

“What you doing 'way over there, Dino?” Papa said. “Why can't you be a gentleman and sit on the other side of Coletta?”

Dino looked at the cigar, uncertain of himself.

“I just know Dino doesn't like me,” Coletta said. “I've felt it all evening long.”

It stabbed Dino deeply. He rose, his two hands clutched at his chest, and said: “Forgive me, Signorina. I am so rude. I am not aware of these social niceties. You see, I am not often in the presence of one so lovely as yourself. It will be an honor to sit beside you, if you allow it.”

She nodded sweetly and he sat down, frightened and ready for anything.

“He's right, Coletta,” Papa said. “He's telling you the truth. He doesn't know a damn thing about women.”

All at once Papa grew very friendly. He spread himself full length, crossed his feet, and raised both arms to the back of the divan. As if by accident his right arm fell across Coletta's smooth shoulders, but he didn't take it away, and his palm covered the rounded softness and he squeezed gently.

“Did you ever hear the one about the iceman and the woman who was taking a bath?”

“No,” Coletta said. “Please tell it.”

Papa shifted his cigar. “Well, this woman was taking a bath.
'Course she was all undressed, and she heard the ice truck, and she remembered she didn't put out the ice card. So she ran downstairs, naked, to put the card in the window, and when she got there she heard somebody coming, and she thought it was the iceman. So she jumped in the closet, and she didn't have a thing on. But it wasn't the iceman at all. It was the meterman to read the meter, and he opened the door, and there she was, stark naked, and she said: ‘Oh! I thought you was the iceman.'”

Coletta laughed, hiding her face. Dino sat with his arms folded, smiling; it was plain he didn't understand the story, and neither did we. Papa thought of another one.

“Ever hear the one about the farmer who wanted to get married?”

“No,” Coletta said. “Please tell it.”

“Well, this farmer wanted to get married.” Papa paused, looked around, as if he suspected eavesdropping. He saw us there on the floor. It was as though he didn't know we'd been there all the time.

“What the hell you kids doing here?”

We had been making a feast of the beauty of Coletta. We were not ready for his question. We could not answer him. “Beat it,” he said. “Go outside and play.”

We retreated heels first to the dining room, where Mamma's fretful hands snatched at the soiled dishes, the blood sucked from her pale lips. We stood there, content to listen to the melody of Coletta's voice.

“You too, Hugo,” Papa said. “Beat it.”