The Coming of Fabrizze: A Novel (Black Squirrel Books) (17 page)

“Your father is right,” said Cardino. “We should take up the collection and send you away.”

“Seriously then,” said Poggio. “Fabrizze says that each one of us is born with an empty barrel. We have to fill this barrel with trouble and then it's time for happiness. Fabrizze sends thanks to you. Why? You helped to fill his barrel!”

It was necessary to go to Rossi for information.

“Fabrizze wants me to talk to McGuire,” said Rossi. “He's looking for work on the railroad.”

“But this is foolish,” said Adelina.

“Tell him to come home,” said Josephine, scolding.

“He'll come to us in good time,” said Rossi. “Debts must be paid. All was lost. Rumbone must write and let him know how much the house and land brought. He went away to see things clearly. He's trying to understand it.”

“What is there to understand?” said Josephine. “He was doing well. It's the last two days that were bad. Tell him it was good until the last days.”

“Listen to the rest of it,” said Rossi.

“Look after the sisters,” said Fabrizze. “Let Bassetti spend his time in the store. And you should open another store. Gritti and Penza and Cardino will work hard for you. Keep Poggio where he is. If you hold him to six days a week, Rossi, he will come about three. Put him on three days. He will come two? Put him on two then. Take what he is giving.

“In the coming year Grace will have a baby. I explained to her that it would be a bad time. She understands me. She agrees with me. ‘And now who will tell the child?' she says. Enough then. Soon we will be together again. How we miss you! All our love.”

“He'll be here in the spring,” said Poggio.

“But what happened to Vivolo?” said Rumbone.

“He says nothing” said Rossi.

“I miss this Vivolo,” said Rumbone. “The man was pepper in my soup. Pepper in my soup.”

Fabrizze wrote again shortly after the turn of the year. He was working as a foreman on the railroad. The letter made everyone feel that he was just around the corner.

“Keep grading,” said Fabrizze. “Leave the torch on. Everybody lift. How easy it is when we help each other!”

“They put him on as a foreman,” said Rossi. “On the first day the supervisor was taking him around the yard. A gang of men was trying to move a boxcar to the siding. They were pushing and singing. One of the men was singing louder than the rest. He looked like Poggio. The others pushed and pushed. They couldn't budge the car. They began to shout and curse. The foreman was screaming at them. Fabrizze went in front and found a pebble under each wheel. The car moved away. Fabrizze will do well, my friends. He sends this fifty dollars to Josephine.”

Josephine was soon receiving money at regular intervals. The charm of it began to wear off. Each letter brought assurance that another letter would come. The old lady was troubled. Poggio would find her with the letter in her lap.

“He sent money?” said Poggio.

“Thirty dollars,” said Josephine. “It makes me nervous, God bless him. Tell him to send no more. Let him come and work here. How I long for the sight of him! Look, look. He made a picture of Adelina and me. Rocking on the porch.”

Her dark eyes filled with tears.

“Do you know what happened this morning?” she said. “A bird flew in the window. A wild bird. It's a bad sign.”

“What do the birds think when we are out?” said Poggio. “It's a sign of spring and nothing more. Fabrizze will come to us in the spring or the fall. He gave his promise.”

“And if I die?” said Josephine.

“It's for you to decide,” said Poggio. “I advise you to wait a little. Fabrizze will surely be here.”

Feeling ran high in the neighborhood. It was best expressed by Gritti in his encounter with Fasano. Fasano had a face white and tight as a fist. He was a butcher in the market and on his way home he would open his coat to sicken the neighbors with an apron covered with blood. Dogs followed him.

“Hard times are coming,” Penza would say.

“Don't tell
me,”
said Fasano, bitterly.

“It looks like rain,” Cardino would say.

“Don't tell
me,”
said Fasano. “I see things for myself.”

The strange stubborn man had been hearing everywhere about Fabrizze. Late one night he was drinking wine with Gritti. They sat alone in the kitchen. Gritti went over and over the excitement of the past year. Suddenly he was glum and silent.

“Is that all?” said Fasano. “You should carry a gun.”

“Why should I carry a gun?” said Gritti.

“Why?” said Fasano. “You can fire salutes to this Fabrizze when there's nothing more to say.”

“Will you take something to eat?” said Gritti. He sensed an argument and wanted to be sure his guest was given every courtesy to that point.

“Nothing to eat,” said Fasano. “Let me tell you I'm sick of this Fabrizze. The man changes from day to day. Wait, cumpare, wait. What does he look like?”

“Hair like fire,” said Gritti. “His eyes were blue. His nose came at you straight. It was good to be with him. One day I had this headache on the job. ‘I wish I could reach out,' he said. ‘I wish I could reach out and take it from you.' He took it. But it's coming back. Right now.”

“He doesn't even look Italian,” said Fasano.

“How does an Italian look?” said Gritti.

“Backwards,” said Fasano. “I'm among them and see it clearly. Don't tell
me.”

“You're the one who asked,” said Gritti, ominously.

“Most of it's made up,” said Fasano. “Why isn't he here?”

“He'll be coming,” said Gritti. “He's in another city. They say he'll come in the fall.”

“What city, what city?” said Fasano. “First he was coming in the winter. And then the spring. And now it's the fall. In the fall it will be the winter again. I'll tell you a secret. Nature is on your side. Wake up! Don't you know they've been saying the same thing for weeks? I think it's all lies! And I tell you in your face. He'll never come back, this Fabrizze. Why should he? I'm ready to leave myself!”

Fasano burst into raw angry laughter.

“A city west of here,” said Gritti.

“Are you making a fool of Fasano? I'm a simple man. Meat and bread. This Fabrizze is too rich for my blood. And another thing. I know who's playing tricks on me. He works in the store. The one with a nose like a pepper. I found soap in my cheese. He sent a doctor to the house at three in the morning. I wasn't even sick. And the man wouldn't go away. I gave him a dollar for a bag of pills. They almost ruined me. You want to hear more? There was a dog locked in my cellar. A mad dog! You think it's funny?”

“I heard it was a puppy,” said Gritti.

“A puppy, eh?” said Fasano. “The beast jumped at me and tore the apron off! But I know who's behind it! What's his name?”

“Vivolo,” said Gritti.

“More lies,” said Fasano. “But it's as easy as breathing with you people! You're in it together!”

“Take something to eat,” said Gritti, urgently.

“Nothing, nothing,” said Fasano. “Not a crust! I'm stuffed up listening to you!”

Suddenly Gritti was holding him in the chair. He poured wine for Fasano and then emptied the bottle in his own glass. He waited for the last drop.

“It's a made-up story,” said Fasano. “You put more wine in your glass, eh? Why are you holding me?”

“Drink, drink,” said Gritti.

“Why are you holding me?” said Fasano. “You stop my blood! Why are you humming? Don't tell me about Fabrizze! Take your hand away! What's this humming?”

Gritti hit him a quick neat blow on the head with the bottle. Fasano slumped forward. Gritti propped him at the table.

“Tell me,” Fasano was muttering.

“Fabrizze was here,” said Gritti. “He's gone. Soon he'll be with us. Now you've been told. And never call me cumpare. Never, never, never!”

Spring came to remind them of the gay flashing days of the recent year. Sweet with hope was the time and it was made perfect by the long letter from Fabrizze. He saluted each of them by name; and then he announced that he was sending to Italy for his cousins.

“Why not?” said Fabrizze. “Let them come, let them come. I am longing to see them. Augustine tells me that they have nothing but hope. What more do they need? Soon after they arrive we will return to you.

“Years ago in the village we used to hear a trumpet first thing in the morning. They were bringing figs and plums and oranges up the mountain from the lowlands. A man blew the trumpet to call us to the square. I would jump out of bed and hurry there to see the sweet fresh things. The man with the trumpet had a black moustache and cheeks like apples. ‘Is everyone here?' he said, one morning. And then I knew that I had come just to see the faces of my people. Now I hear this trumpet again. And Grace is hearing it. It calls us home to you. Patience then. Igino will be the first to know when we are coming. One day he will be playing and we will be together again.”

Poggio was thrilled by the letter. Now again he was on the run before and after work. One morning he found Josephine watching the corner at Harrison Street. Igino was playing. The little bell of the trolley was ringing. Tender leaves were kissing and nodding on the clear sky. Josephine was nodding with them.

“I caught you,” said Poggio, coming in. “Why are you blushing? Hope is free.”

“It's a shame,” said Josephine. “It's a shame he doesn't come to us on such a morning.”

“There'll be another.”

“I'm growing old,” said Josephine, mournfully. “I'll be dead and gone if he waits to pay what he owes.”

“But he'll be sending twice as much,” said Poggio. “It will be half the time.”

“I'm sick of the money,” said Josephine. “It's like a curse.”

“Let me tell you a story,” said Poggio.

“Before you eat?” said Josephine.

“Before I eat,” said Poggio. “I'll earn my bread.”

“Make me laugh then,” said Josephine.

“I was talking to a man called Pipino,” said Poggio. “It's two years his wife is dead. Have you heard of Pipino? He plays the big accordion. So big he has to strap it around his shoulders.”

“You mean the barber on Fulton Road,” said Josephine.

“The very same,” said Poggio. “He sent to Italy for his wife. The match was made through the mail. Pipino was older by fifteen years. When she came he was waiting at the station. He saw her in the crowd. How ashamed he was! She had this black hair and the face of a little girl. He was an old man! He wanted to hide. He closed his eyes. And then he began to play the accordion. And the next thing he knew she was beside him. He looked at her. It was going to be all right with them.”

“But she died,” said Josephine, wringing her hands.

“She died giving birth to a girl,” said Poggio.

“She's dead, she's dead,” said Josephine.

“Pipino left off mourning and you begin,” said Poggio.

“Poor child, poor child,” said Josephine.

“Listen then,” said Poggio. “One night he was drinking in the room. He strapped on the accordion. He began to play. The music broke his heart. He drank a quart of wine. He was breathing so hard it sent shivers through the accordion. The thing was playing by itself. He went to the window and threw it out. The strap was caught on his shoulder and he went down with it. He broke a leg.”

“Stop with this story,” said Josephine. “What's happening?”

“And so night after night he was left in the room with his leg in the cast. The baby would cry. Pipino sat there with his hands in his lap. One night he was drinking. The cast was squeezing him. His leg was on fire with it. He started to play the accordion to forget the pain. How he played! The baby stopped crying. All at once the pain was gone! He stopped playing. The baby was crying. His leg was in flames. He started playing. The pain was gone. He kept playing. Louder and louder! He woke all the neighbors. Something got in him. He had this feeling that the whole city was listening to him. And now what if I told you that I heard it? All the way from Fulton Road. I swear it! I sat up in bed on that very night. I heard it! And then I couldn't hear it. And I was straining my ears there.”

“And you heard it,” said Josephine.

“It's the truth,” said Poggio. “I was telling him about it. And I was telling him about Fabrizze. You know what he said? ‘You had a fine ride with this Fabrizze, eh?' he said. ‘But it was a fine ride!' I said. And he said something more. He'll bring the band from the church when Fabrizze comes home. It will be like a feast day. We'll string lights up and down the street.”

“I like that,” said Josephine.

“One thing more,” said Poggio. “This Pipino is going to play the accordion tonight. But why am I telling you? You'll hear it.”

“If I hear it,” said Josephine.

“How stubborn you are,” said Poggio. “Open your heart. The music is there. I tell you I heard it.”

“You hear what you hear,” said Josephine.

“But it's there,” said Poggio.

And so it was.