The Fanellies lived downstairs in the largest part of our old Victorian house. There was Frank, his wife Anna-Maria, three boys: two older ones, Joey and Carmine and then there was Giorgio, the ten year old. Giorgio was short and fat and looked like an unbaked loaf of Italian bread. Belinda was thirteen, had stringy black hair like her Mother, and was so ugly that my mother told me to pray for her.
Somehow, I didn’t think my prayers would work.
Everybody in the family had dark black hair and I mean black: Except for Marialana their oldest daughter, the college student, who was the only one who ever got sunburned because she had pink skin and blond hair.
I was not yet in school when my mother sat me down one day.
“Oh!” she said with a smile on her face while my grandmother was saying, "vergogna” under her breath to the back of my mother’s head.
Vergogna means shame.
“Oh.” said Mommy and Grandma said “vergogna” again. My mother threw her hands up in the air and then they landed on her hips. She looked at my grandma and gave her what we called a
dirty look.
I looked from my mother to grandma and back to Mommy again. What did I do? Of what was I to be ashamed? I sat up straight, ready to take my medicine for whatever crime I had committed.
You didn’t always know until they
told you.
“Momma!” Said Mom without looking back at Grandma. “Can you please …?” Just then, we heard Grandpa banging his walking stick on our kitchen ceiling and Grandma went upstairs.
“Well guess what has happened?” continued Mom.
I hunched my shoulders.
“Marialana is coming back from school!”
I was very young; not quite six, but I knew things. I wasn’t sure what things I knew: but I knew things!
I was trying to figure out how they were gonna blame this on me: Marialana coming home from school!
I sat there in total acceptance, smiling.
“And guess what?” said Mom. “Well, guess, guess!”
Squirming in my chair, my mind was blank. “What Mommy?”
“Marialana is bringing home a surprise!" And she clapped her hands.
Well surprise, surprise! Marialana’s surprise was the Fanellies “vergogna”: a child born out of wedlock. I overheard Grandma say to Mom. “It is a sin, paid for by a sin, paid for by a sin. Tragedia!”
Though Grandma eschewed Marialana and her baby, my mother embraced them especially after Anna-Maria had a life-altering stroke soon after baby Tina was brought home. “Payment for the first sin!” said Grandma.
I had no idea what that meant!
I often went downstairs with Mom to visit Marialana and Tina. Sometimes I was allowed to give her her bottle. My mother sat on the couch with me, held me while Marialana slept in my arms and helped me prop the baby’s bottle under her chin when she cried for milk. It felt nice.
By the time I started school, Tina was in a highchair, and I visited her often. Even Grandma had become helpful because Marialana was taking care of her entire family, which included her bedridden mother as well as Tina.
Tina was fun. She had lots of toys and sometimes after school while Marialana cleaned the house and washed cloths she gave me five cents for playing with Tina, changing her diaper and feeding her. Mom taught me how to feed her with her pink plastic spoon. You know, “here comes the choo choo train open up and eat.” She was a real good eater, especially for me. I spent most of my weekends with Tina. I loved her, she became my real live baby doll.
I was especially proud when Tina got chubby because Mommy said that I was doing a good job feeding her. Her cheeks were pink. “See how pink and chunky her cheeks are? Ooh! Look at that chubby little tummy!” Mommy would pinch Tina’s tummy, which I didn’t like because I was afraid that it hurt her.
I wanted to pinch Mommy’s tummy!
As time went by Tina got chubbier and chubbier and I was prouder and prouder.
Then one Saturday afternoon mom asked, “Where are you going?”
She knew where I was going, downstairs! “I’m gonna go play with Tina.”
“She’s not there.”
“Why not? Where is she?”
“Now mind your own business little missy. Just go off and play now. I have sewing to do and there is dinner to be cooked. Play with your dolls.” Then Mommy had a lightening flash. “Go play with your sister!”
That’s when I knew that something was very very wrong. Yet, I dared not ask any more questions.
I listened for sounds. Mr. Fanelli and the older boys were home. You get used to people. When you live above them, you know who is banging the side door and who is playing a particular piece of music. You even know who is cooking the sauce because people use different herbs and things. I saw Giorgio come home late from playing ball but didn’t know that Belinda was home until I heard Gogo, as we called Giorgio, and Belinda screaming at each other around eight-thirty at night.
No Marialana sounds and no Tina sounds. I cried myself to sleep.
On Monday afternoon, I saw Marialana walking into the house with her brother Joey’s arm around her shoulder. Her head was down and her hair was messy.
I knew that Tina was dead.
“Guess what?” said Mommy when I ran upstairs. She knew that I knew! I could tell in her eyes. She looked guilty! Grandma's head was bent low on her chest. I could tell that she had been crying. She said under her breath, "it's the circle."
“Tina has gone to heaven to rest in God’s arms! Isn’t that wonderful?” said my mother. I just looked at her. For some reason I hated her, I wanted to kill her, and I blamed her for Tina’s death until she said. “You did such a great job of taking care of her, chubby and all, that God decided that you made her so perfect that he wanted her to go be with him in heaven!”
My mother had not killed Tina.I had.
Sometimes I would go downstairs to visit Marialana. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry, that I didn’t mean to kill Tina. However, all I did was help Marialana clean the dishes: stuff like that.
One day she said to me, “Do you really want to come down here even though Tina isn’t here anymore?
She was wearing a pink robe. It was dirty and she had it stretched across her body with her arms tight against her chest. Her hair and nails were dirty. Her face was red and puffy.
I was very very sorry, but I never did apologize.
Copyright © 2009 m.m.sugar
It was 2:45 and Sister Margaret was chatting away at the junior class, which should have been dismissed 15 minutes earlier. Sugar tensely sat on the edge of her seat. Her teeth hurt because her mouth was glued shut. She felt the pain up into her palate and practically into her ears. Her right calf held the weight of her tiny frame while her left buttock was slightly raised from her seat in anticipation of sprinting from the chair. She firmly held the handle of her cherished music case in her right hand. Sugar’s brain was telling the nun to just finish-shut up. Panting! On your mark, get ready, set, now go!
