Bella Fortuna (25 page)

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Authors: Rosanna Chiofalo

BOOK: Bella Fortuna
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“I'm not surprised. People think they're getting what they see with that old woman—a crotchety, cheap woman who only cares about her business and money. But I've always known there's more to her than meets the eye. In fact, I think she's just become my hero.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“You can always make me laugh even after my world's just come crashing down.”
“That's what good friends are for.”
“I hate to ask you for another favor, Aldo, after the way I barged in on you tonight. But would it be okay if I spent the night here? I just want one night to myself before I have to tell my family.”
“Of course you can stay here. You don't even have to ask. I have an idea. Why don't you let me break the news to your family?”
“Oh, I don't know about that. It's my responsibility to tell them.”
“You take on too much, Vee. Please. Let me do this. I
want
to do this for you. Also, it would give your family the night to process the news. You'll all be stronger this way when you see each other tomorrow.”
His reasoning on this last point does make sense. It would be better for both my family and me. I can already feel the heavy burden of having to break the news to them lift off my chest.
“Okay, you can tell them.”
“It's decided then. You can sleep in my bed.”
I'm about to tell Aldo I'll take the couch when he stops me with his hand. I nod my head.
“I think I'll go to bed now.”
“Yes, you do that. I'll put out some clean towels in the bathroom for you, and then I'll call Rita. I think it's better if she tells your mother.”
“Yes, you're absolutely right. Thank you again, Aldo. Have I ever told you that you're the best friend in the universe?”
“No, actually. I don't think you have.”
I walk over to Aldo and kiss him on the cheek.
After washing up and slipping into Aldo's enormous king-size bed, I don't feel as sleepy as I did a few moments ago. I can just barely make out Aldo's voice. He must've gotten through to Rita. I'm grateful he's talking so low because hearing someone else say my engagement is broken will make it all the more real for me. Then again, all I need to do is look at my bare finger to know this isn't a bad dream. As I drift off to sleep, my thoughts return to my perfect wedding dress—a dress that no one will see now.
13
Bridezillas Unleashed
A
month has passed since Michael broke off our engagement. I've been in a daze, mostly staying home and not doing much of anything. I haven't been to Sposa Rosa since the day Michael ended it. The thought of being surrounded by wedding dresses and happy brides-to-be is just too much to bear. But I can't stay cooped up any longer. This is my life: making wedding gowns and making other women's dreams come true.
On Saturday mornings, the DeLuca custom is to have breakfast together. As I make my way downstairs, I can smell Ma's special cinnamon French toast, as she likes to call it. You won't find better French toast anywhere. Her secret is adding a few drops of pure vanilla extract and adding enough eggs so that the bread has an extra-thick coating of batter.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Oh! Valentina, you scared me. I didn't hear you coming down.”
Ma is working at her usual frenetic pace. The woman does nothing slowly. She's flipping the French toast with one hand while the other is dunking a slice of challah bread into the egg batter to replace the slice that's just been removed from the skillet.
Rita is at the table, sipping coffee and sketching a new purse design. I fill my own mug with coffee and sit down next to my sister.
No sooner have I sat down than Ma plops a plate of French toast in front of me. Of course there are too many slices of toast on the plate.
“You gave me too much, Ma. I'm just having one slice.”
“Valentina, you've lost too much weight. You're going to get sick. Eat at least two slices.”
Ma looks at me as if I'm going to break her heart if I don't do as she says. With the guilt I've been feeling over my failed wedding plans, I've done whatever she's asked of me lately, which hasn't been much, but still.
“Okay. I'll try to eat two slices.”
“That's my girl!”
Ma smiles. She's been so strong for me this past month. I haven't seen her cry once since the end of my engagement. But that doesn't mean she hasn't shed any tears in private.
I woke up one night at three in the morning. I haven't been able to sleep throughout the night lately. On my way to the bathroom, I heard Ma's soft cries in her bedroom. Her door was just slightly ajar, allowing me a peek. She was holding her favorite photo of me. It was a photo taken on the night of my high school senior prom. She'd outdone herself with the dress she'd sewn for me. It was a one-shouldered violet dress made out of taffeta. The shoulder strap had little rosettes with sparkling crystals at the center of each rosette. A skinny belt surrounded the waist of the dress. Two glittering combs adorned with crystal rhinestones swept my hair to one side, allowing the long strands to drape over my bare shoulder.
Michael had agreed to be my prom date. We weren't dating yet, but our friendship had deepened in the year since my father's death. He had made good on his promise to e-mail me while he was away at Cornell, and he even called me a few times. Whenever he came home for the holidays, we hung out together. Often it was in a group setting with friends of ours. Though I had secretly wished we were dating already, his friendship had meant the world to me in those days and helped me move on after losing my father. I wasn't dating anyone at the time, and no one had asked me to the prom. So I'd worked up the courage to ask Michael to escort me.
He was in the photo, too. His pale gray suit complemented my violet dress perfectly. I liked it that he was wearing a suit as opposed to the tuxedoes all the other guys wore to the prom. He stood out amid the sea of tux-clad penguins. He'd given me a wrist corsage of cream-colored and violet roses. I couldn't believe he'd found violet roses. They weren't a common sight at florist shops.
I was surprised Ma still had this photo, because I hadn't seen it displayed on her dresser since Michael broke up with me. I'd assumed she probably tore it up or at least would've cut Michael out of the photo. She was known for cutting out boys my sisters and I had dated.
“I don't want any reminders of those clowns,” she'd say when we'd catch her in the act of snipping yet another guy out of a photo. Ma had loved Michael as if he were the son she'd never had. I guess she wasn't ready to cut him out just yet even though he'd hurt her daughter more than any of my other ex-boyfriends or my sisters' exes had.
“That smell of French toast woke me up. I'm famished.”
Connie limps into the kitchen in her silky boy shorts and matching camisole. Her hair looks like a tornado has just whipped through it.
“Rough night?” Rita asks.
“Lou and I went dancing. I don't think I've ever danced that much.”
It's out of the bag that Connie and Rita are dating the Broccoli Brothers. I don't even know why they were ever keeping it from Ma. Since they're from the neighborhood, it was only a matter of time before one of our nosy neighbors broke the news to Ma. And that's exactly what happened. Of course, it was the Mayor of 35th Street who spilled the beans to my mother as he spotted her outside of Top Tomato while she was picking her weekly produce.
“
Ciao,
Signora DeLuca!”
“
Buon giorno,
Paulie.
Com'é sta?
”
“Eh . . .
mezza mezza
. How are the vegetables looking today?”
“Not bad. Look at these beautiful, shiny eggplants. And they're on sale. I'm getting a few. My daughters love eggplant rollatini.”
“Be sure to pick up some extra broccoli rabe. Your daughters like that, too, from what I hear.”
Ma frowned. “What are you talking about? Only Valentina likes broccoli rabe. Rita and Connie think it's too bitter even though I know how to cook it to cut down on the bitterness.”
“Oh, really? They don't like broccoli rabe? That's funny considering they're dating the Broccoli Brothers.” Ma's eyes opened wide, but she quickly disguised her surprise and said, “They're good boys.”
She went back to sorting out her eggplants, squeezing each one to test its ripeness.
“Yeah, I suppose. That Lou Rabe has a bit of a wild streak, riding that motorcycle.”
Ma shrugged her shoulders, refusing to give Paulie any validation.
“It's no crime to ride a motorcycle. Well, if you will excuse me, Paulie, I'm ready to go in and pay.
Buon giorno
.”
“
Buon giorno,
Signora DeLuca.”
When Ma got home that night she scolded Rita and Connie for not telling her about the Broccoli Brothers.
“I had to find out from Paulie, of all people! I hope he didn't notice that I had no idea my own daughters were dating the Rabe boys. He takes such pleasure out of knowing other people's business. And then I have to hear his stupid, rude jokes.
Disgraziato!
”
Although Ma was upset that Rita and Connie yet again hadn't confided in her, she didn't give them any grief about dating the Broccoli Brothers. I always thought she'd go through the roof over Connie dating Lou since he's a bit of a rebel. Maybe it was because Ma found out a week after my engagement was called off. She didn't have the energy for the battle.
“When are you going to invite those boys over for dinner? It's about time I get to know them better. You have been seeing them now for several months, correct?”
Rita and Connie exchange glances.
Before they can think of an excuse to get out of bringing their boyfriends home for dinner, Ma quickly adds, “Why don't you ask them if they're free next weekend? They can come over for Sunday dinner.”
“Ahhh, sure. I guess so,” Rita says. She knows better than to say anything else, as does Connie.
I decide this is a good time to make my announcement.
“I'm going to the shop today.”
“What?” Rita and Connie cry out in unison.
“That's okay, Valentina. We have everything under control. Just relax. Why don't you go outside and enjoy the day? It's going to be beautiful. Maybe Aldo is free. The two of you can go to a museum. You haven't done that in a long time.”
Ma is talking so fast.
“I'm okay, Ma. It's time for me to get back to work. I've been away for three weeks. I know you guys are swamped. It'll be good for me. I need to keep busy.”
“I agree, Vee. You do need to do more than just hang out inside the house like you've been doing. But why don't you go out with Aldo like Ma suggested. Or even go shopping. You can distract yourself with other things besides work.”
It's hard to take Connie seriously with her disheveled hair and smudged mascara, which she hadn't even bothered removing the night before. She presses a napkin to her forehead and examines it for grease.
“I know you guys are just trying to protect me. But I'm a grown girl. It's time I get back to work. I'll be okay. For that matter, you can all stop walking on eggshells around me.”
“Vee, I'm going to be blunt with you, since Ma and Connie are too afraid to do so. It's too soon for you to be back at the shop—and this week, no less. You were supposed to be in Venice right now making the final arrangements for your wedding next Saturday. How can you even think about going back to work, where you'll be bombarded with wedding reminders?”
“Rita, I'm a lot tougher than you think.”
“I know how strong you are. But this isn't a good idea.”
“She's right. Please, Vee, reconsider. Why don't you at least wait a couple of more weeks?”
Connie's bloodshot, mascara-rimmed eyes stare at me imploringly.
“Valentina, it's wonderful that you are feeling better and want to get out of the house. But your sisters are right. Please just wait a little longer.”
“I appreciate all of your concern. But I've made up my mind. I'm going back to work today.”
I get up and walk out of the kitchen, heading straight for the bathroom, where I can lock the door and escape them. But I know that's not enough. They've had arguments with me in the past through the closed door. I turn on the shower even though I'm not ready to jump in. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see my mother has been right that I've lost weight. Dark rims circle my eyes. My pajama pants feel loose. I pull out the scale from underneath the sink and weigh myself.
One hundred and fifteen pounds! I've lost five pounds in just three weeks.
Kicking the scale back into place, I strip off my pjs and step into the steamy shower. I'm ready to face the outside world again. I've had enough of feeling sorry for myself. Today, I will return to doing what I love most: designing and sewing wedding gowns and helping brides look their best.
 
Rita and Ma leave for the shop right after breakfast. But Connie's lurking around. When I come out of my bedroom, dressed and ready to go to work, she immediately springs to my side.
“Ready?”
“Yes, but I didn't know you were waiting for me.”
“Oh, I figured we'd walk to work together.”
Connie pauses at the mirror that hangs on the wall in our upstairs corridor and powders her nose. Since her makeup has been applied in the past hour, there isn't so much as a drop of oil.
“I have some errands to run before I go to the shop. You can go ahead without me, Connie.”
I run down the stairs, hoping that will be the end of our discussion. Of course, I'm wrong.
“I'll come with you.”
Connie grabs her tote and yoga mat and bolts after me. She often takes a yoga class after work.
I heave a huge sigh and turn around.
“Look, Connie. I know what you're doing, and I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine going to work by myself.”
Connie knows she's busted.
“We just thought it might be easier on your first day back if one of us walked in with you.”
“I need to do this by myself, Connie, and I need some time alone to run my errands before going to work. Do you understand ?”
Connie lowers her gaze and nods.
“Sure. But if you change your mind, just text me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I'm actually going to stick around here for a bit before I leave for work.”
“Thanks, Connie. I'll see you later.”
I give her a hug before I walk out.
The air feels good. It's a sunny June day, a little cooler than it should be at this time of the year, but still pleasant. Not a cloud is in the sky.
I inhale deeply and begin walking up the street. Beady Eyes are at their usual post. Gus sits obediently by their side. My heart starts to pound as I realize this will be the first time I see my neighbors since my engagement has ended. I swallow hard and force myself to look up at them. Of course, their gazes are glued on me. Mr. Beady Eyes looks even more morose than usual, and Mrs. Beady Eyes' lips are pressed so tightly together that I can't even see them.

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