The Good Left Undone(121)
“You remember it in detail, Mama.”
“Because the baby mattered to me. I longed for my sister my whole life. Mama was a different person after the baby.”
“Mama, why didn’t you tell me about your sister?”
“I didn’t want you to be afraid to have your own child someday.”
“It doesn’t scare me, Mama.” Anina embraced her mother. “Now it makes sense. When Nonna was dying she said, Domenica. She saw her daughter.”
“Do you think so?”
As Anina held Nicolina, Anina promised herself she would name her daughter Domenica someday. Domenica Cabrelli.
* * *
Anina sat in her grandmother’s chair on the terrace when she heard Beppe bark and the glass door slide open behind her. “Do you need something, Nonno?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the sea.
“Ciao, Anina.”
Anina turned and faced Paolo. She wore an apron over the dress she had worn to the funeral. Her feet were bare, and the mascara she had cried off formed two black shadows under her eyes.
Paolo pulled up a chair. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. She was a great lady. My parents said it was the biggest funeral they ever attended at San Paolino.”
“Thank you. I was glad to see you there. Please thank your parents for coming.”
“I will. We didn’t think it was appropriate to go to the coffee afterward.”
Anina managed to smile and took his hand and squeezed it before letting it go. One of the things that attracted her to Paolo when they met were his manners. “You and your family are always welcome.”
“It’s funny.” He smiled. “I feel that.”
“How have you been?”
“All right. I moved back in with my parents, but not for long. I’m going to Barcelona. A couple of friends invited me to come and work at their start-up.”
“Congratulations. That’s great news! I didn’t know.”
“How would you know? We don’t talk anymore.” Paolo looked down at his hands.
“We will. I spent the last few weeks with Nonna.”
“I didn’t have a problem with you spending time with your grandmother.”
“I know. I said some things I shouldn’t have. And I probably did some things I shouldn’t have. But I learned a lot from her in the past several weeks. I’m going to try to do better. I’m going to try really hard not to control everything in my life. That includes the people I love.”
“I didn’t want you to let go of me.”
“But look what happened when I did. You got a job! I wanted things to go well for you so much I prevented them from happening.”
“No, Anina. You encouraged me.”
“I tried. But I also held you back with my own fear about things. I wanted you to be happy in a job you loved, but I didn’t take time to find out what it was you loved to do. I was an obstacle, and now you have a good position. It’s all connected.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m sorry I got caught up in getting married. Who cares about the parties. The dress. A diamond ring.”
“Your family is in the jewelry business.”
Anina laughed. “Right. But it shouldn’t just be about the accessories that go with a commitment; it should be about the marriage.”
“You’re working with your grandfather?”
She nodded. “I’m learning the wheel.”
Paolo sat with Anina until the sun, the color of a pat of butter, began to melt into the sea. Every once in a while, he would turn to her in the light, and she’d forget why she had let him go. Her heart still leapt at the sight of him, but she couldn’t admit it. Not to him, anyway.
If Paolo knew that she still had feelings for him, he might have given up the job in Barcelona. But he no longer felt he had the right to ask her about her heart. He lost her trust and believed there was no building it back.
“I should go.” Paolo stood.
Anina walked him to the elevator. He got in.
“Paolo?”
She held the button that kept the doors open.
“Yes?” he said.
“Life is long.”
“Are you giving me hope?” He smiled.
“There’s always hope.” Anina let go of the button. The doors closed. Anina placed her hand on the watch fob. She unpinned it from her dress and held it up to her ear. She heard the gentle ticking of the gears. “Nonna!” she whispered. “It works!”
* * *
Nicolina offered to stay after she straightened the apartment and prepped the moka pot for breakfast the next morning, but Olimpio insisted she go home to Giorgio. Anina was already asleep in the guest room. For the first time since Matelda died, Olimpio was alone. He sat in his pajamas and reread the note Matelda had left for him along with the Speranza ruby.
Olimpio,
This is Papa’s manifesto. He wrote it the night he took the name Cabrelli. Will you print it up and give it to our children and the grandchildren? I forgot I had this and meant to share it. Papa was right. A family is only as strong as their stories.
Love you,
M.
MANIFESTO DE LA FAMIGLIA