Earthquake I.D.

Chapter Five

73 John Domini Chapter Five “Signora, I do realize, your life seems to have confronted you with nothing but strangers. As if the very image in the mirror were a stranger.” Seductively, or almost, the priest cocked an eyebrow. “But at the head of the host,” he went on, “there’s Paul.” “Yes.” She began to nod. “Paul.” Cesare’s look turned sober again, and the mother stopped nodding. God knows, today’s visit must seem strange. It wasn’t a week yet since the Refugee Center, the second “healing episode,” and every evening before dinner Barbara had arranged for time with the old man. Today they occupied their usual pew, a couple of rows back from the altar to the New Age, and the priest lounged as comfortably as his robes allowed. Nonetheless this must’ve seemed like something different. Barb had come poking at the front intercom during the afternoon riposo, when even a rabble-rouser like Cesare shut up shop for a couple of hours. By the time the father answered the buzz she’d actually pulled off one of her flats, preparing to rap the heel on a window somewhere, and—a stranger to herself—she’d found herself leaking tears too. She must’ve been a sight, through the viewing slot. She had to wonder, was this menopause? Was it time she took a serious look at the possibility? What had brought her to the church today, wet-eyed and unshod and flushed from climbing, was hardly a tragedy. Her family excursion had been cut short, that’s all. In the morning Barb and the kids had headed out with the Lieutenant Major, him and his army, and then they’d come back early and liaison-free. 74 EarthquakE I.D. Cesare returned to his point. “I do realize that what I’ve asked of you and Paul, it might seem like overmuch, just now. The straw that broke the owl’s back.” She reached to tug an armpit, then let her hand drop. “Oh, listen. The least I could expect was that you’d try to enlist us in your cause.” “Well I won’t withdraw my request. I want you to stay on in Naples.” Through the thin leather of her purse, she could feel the vertebra of her rosary. “Forgive me for saying so, but I believe it’s what Christ wants too.” “All right. I told you already, when I ask myself what I’m still doing here, that’s always one of the answers I come up with. We can do a lot of good in this city.” “Indeed yes, but it may be that you’ve already done enough. You speak of my ‘cause,’ now. Yet as for that, hasn’t your husband already done enough? Just the other day, didn’t he minister to the lost sheep down in Castel dell’Ovo?” The hunger strikers, the old man’s pet project. As for Jay’s visit down to the security ward, a new holding pen in an old waterfront castle, the most Barb felt she could offer was a Neapolitan shrug. “Signora, I do recognize, even I, that what’s good for the starving protesti may not be good for you. As you say, you’re the one who’s had five children.” “Is that how you’d prefer me?” Barbara asked, “Just another unhappy wife?” The lines around his squint lengthened. “Cesare, am I saying anything about what Jay did, down at dell’Ovo the other day? Today is about today. That’s what I’m here for, today and this girl again, this gypsy. She doesn’t take Kahlberg’s shit. Excuse me, but I have to call a spade a—” “It’s as clear as the cross on the wall, Mrs. Lulucita. Quite brilliantly clear, don’t you know. You feel as if, yourself, day after day you swallow that man’s shite.” “Well he’s my Lieutenant Major, isn’t he? My tax dollars at work.” “And you swallow any disgusting business he slaps on your plate, while this girl picks it up and heaves it back in his face.” “You’ve got it, that’s what I’m saying. Romy, this teenager, this orphan, a week ago she was a quadriplegic. Still she’s got Kahlberg 75 John Domini looking over his shoulder. Today, you should’ve seen what she did...