Siracusa (20 page)

“Who is it?” said Taylor.

“Nothing. The restaurant. I own a restaurant in the U.S. I’ll call them back.”

“My daughter was with an American staying here,” said Taylor. “The woman hasn’t come back either.”

“She is with a friend?” said Carrudo.

“He knows her.” Taylor nodded to Michael.

“I don’t know her. She works near where we live.”

They asked for a description and Tay blubbered it out. “Blond, straight hair to her shoulders, sometimes pulled back, tan, blue eyes, her nails painted purple. This morning she was wearing a man’s striped shirt, long, to her knees, kind of like his.” She pointed to Michael. “Silver flip-flops. Big orange tote bag. Perforated. You know, with little holes. Looks like leather but plastic.”

The cops huddled with Marianna, then stood formally for her to deliver the verdict. “They will put out the information to all police cars,” she said. “He would like that photo of your child,” said Marianna.

After about fifty fumbles trying to type in his e-mail, I sent it.

“They want you to know the police take kidnapping very seriously,” said Marianna.

Kidnapping. Jesus. Tay burst into loud sobs. What did we think, but whatever it was, it wasn’t that. Just gone, missing, lost, but not a big scary word like that.

Carrudo offered a card with his number and they left, escorted by Marianna. We all fell dumb.

“I’m sorry,” said Michael after a bit.

“Snow’s probably all right,” I said.

“Idiot,” said Taylor.

Marianna popped her head back in, beaming. “Your daughter is here.”

We knocked into each other running.

Snow. Just inside. The glass doors framed her like the arch of a church. Snow so still, for a second I wasn’t sure she was flesh and blood. Dressed differently too. A pair of loose white pants, worn low, hung off her hips, belly button exposed and a bit of bony hip. A flimsy white tank barely covered her on top. Pink on her lips. The red sunglasses.

“It is all, all right,” said Marianna with a clap.

Tay took off Snow’s glasses, kissed every inch of her face, then pulled back to look at her. They were beautiful together. I could tell Carrudo admired that.

“Where are your clothes? What happened?” said Tay.

“Where were you, Snow?” I said.

Snow’s eyes shifted toward the police and she shuddered against her mother.

“What happened, sweetheart, tell me,” said Tay.

“Where were you, Snowy?” I said.

Snow clucked.

“She clucks when she’s upset,” said Tay. “No, sometimes she just clucks. I think it’s a way to connect, to let us know she’s okay or she doesn’t want to talk, or—I’m not sure. She’s very bright.”

“Clucks?” Marianna did not know how to translate.

“That noise you make—your tongue against the roof of your mouth,” I said. “A cluck.”

Carrudo spoke to Marianna.

“Does she need a doctor?” said Marianna. “The police would like to know. Also they would like to interview her.”

Tay hugged Snowy again, who allowed it but I guess that’s all you could call it. I could see my kid was strange, taking in but giving back nothing, and everyone else noticed too. Her beauty got in their way, though, that’s my sense of it, given how gaga they were. It made it hard for them to assess anything.

Then Snow saw Michael and smiled.

“Hi, Snow,” said Michael. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Are you hurt?” said Tay. “Tell me.”

Snow clucked again.

“No, that means no,” said Tay. “Did Kath buy you those clothes?”

Snow’s eyes shifted.

“Yes,” Tay told the cops. “The woman bought them for her. I recognize her lipstick too. Her bright pink color.”

“Did anyone hurt you, Snow, and tell you not to tell us or they would hurt us or you, because they won’t,” said Tay.

Again my kid fucking clucked. I caught myself about to smile. She was messing with the police. With us. She was stonewalling. I know my Snow. Piece of work. Dolan for sure.

“She needs to be with me, that’s all,” said Tay.

“We’re leaving Sicily tomorrow,” I told Carrudo. I figured in the end all these cops wanted to know was whether this was
still their problem. If we were going to be gone, ciao and good riddance. “We’re fine,” I said. “Our daughter’s fine. We’re sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for coming.”

They left in high spirits as if they’d solved a crime. Penzo stopped at the desk to ask Carlo where Dani was, at least that was my impression.

“You okay, beautiful?” said Michael.

Snow lifted her eyes to him. “What?” He leaned down. She whispered in his ear.

Michael jerked away. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom,” said Snow to Tay.

Michael grabbed Snow’s shoulders.

“Let her go,” I said.

He shook her. “What the fuck—”

I hauled him off, twisted his arm to swing him around, and punched his face. He staggered backward and I slugged him in the gut. The guy crumpled, blocking the doorway. We had to edge around.

Guests cowered as if I were a madman planning to take them all out. I propelled Taylor and Snow past and ushered my family to the elevator.

Tay pushed in Snow ahead of her, swiveled around, and put up a flat hand at my chest. “We don’t need you now.”

The door slid shut.

I texted Lizzie.

H
OW STUPID WAS
I? Plotting his seduction, wooing him with dead poets, imagining my competition was a novel. What a pretentious notion.

All those times she’d greeted us at Tino’s, escorted us to the table in the corner. “The scampi is delicious tonight.” How that must have turned him on.

Games we played at other people’s dinners now played on me.

Did he feel her up on the way to the men’s room?

“How is everything?” She’d checked on us often. Now and then I asked her about herself. To be polite I was curious. At Christmas she went back to Bloomington to see her parents. “They don’t approve of New York,” she’d said. Was he fucking her then? What did he give her for Christmas? Once she’d confessed to a vision board. It had amused me. I often asked about it. “How’s your vision board?”

Last month she told me it was coming true.

Is he in love with her?

My brain rattled, every moment reconsidered, thoughts ping-ponging around as I stumbled down one spindly street after another. I didn’t encounter another soul. Except for the noise in my head, the silence was unearthly. Houses were mostly shuttered, doorways covered with rusted iron gratings; some were partial shells with exposed second floors as if bombed in the war. I mean, like in World War II, those photos of Dunkirk. Maybe they were. In one, a man popped like a jack-in-the-box into the empty frame of a window. He rushed out, babbling in Italian. I burst into tears and ran.

Finally a house, formerly grand, larger than others, a chalky yellow, with clothes drying off the balconies, had an open arched entrance. Under the arch were several inner doors secured with iron padlocks and two large green trash bins. It was cool, dark, and rank. I sat on the ground, my back against the wall, too tired now to rerun the marriage tape. I think I might have dozed for a while. When I woke I texted Finn.

By the time I heard back I had wandered on and found a café, a funky patio surrounded by pots of bushy green things and miniature spiny palms, slatted wooden picnic tables with plastic sunflower placemats, and, off to the side the sort of portable bar you might find by a pool. I sat at a table and ordered a Coke.

“Will you have dinner?” the waiter asked, a charmer, not more than twenty, the short sleeves of his tight T-shirt rolled up to his shoulders. While he told me the specials and presented a menu, he kept up a running conversation with two hotties at the bar. I asked him where I was, showed him the map, and texted
Finn the information. He showed up quite a while after the parmigiana I’d ordered to be able to stay.

Finn scouted the bread basket, selected a mini pizza square topped with pesto, and stuffed it in his mouth. “They make pesto with pistachio and parsley in Siracusa. What happened?”

I couldn’t get words out.

He jammed his chair around next to mine. I put my head on his shoulder. He patted me like a kid who doesn’t quite know what comfort is or how to provide it.

“Michael’s been cheating on me. With that woman. The woman you met at breakfast. He brought her here.” I burrowed into his shoulder and waited until I could hold back the dam. “How could he do that?”

“What?”

“All of it.”

Finn propped me upright. “Let me get settled.” He took out rolling papers, sprinkled on tobacco, spun and sealed it.

“You’re rolling your own cigarettes? When did this start?”

“Want one?”

“No. I don’t know what to do.”

He glanced at the menu and ordered a bottle of white. “How’d you find out?”

“Did you know?”

“How would I know?” said Finn.

“I don’t know. I just now got this feeling that maybe you knew. What am I going to do? How can I get out of here? Get home?”

We stopped talking while the waiter uncorked the wine. “Drink this. Drink a lot of it.
Très bien
,” he told the waiter. “It’s the way you like it, Lizzie, not too dry.”

“I don’t want to drink. I need to think.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m a dope. A dupe. Do you think he’s in love with her?”

“It’s a game.”

“He makes it all up, you know. His life’s a fiction. I could blow him out of the water.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Finn clinked my glass. “She took Snow somewhere and returned her looking like a hooker.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Take three big gulps.”

I downed the glass. He poured another, and ordered after asking several questions about the fish. “After the boat ride, the two of them, Snow and Kathy, went off for ice cream. Hours later, they weren’t back. Taylor was bananas. Me too. I told the manager, you better fucking call the police or else, and these two cops showed up, and then suddenly Snow walked in.” He started laughing.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. It was the scariest shit ever, the end of life.”

“I’m sorry.” I rubbed his arm. “Do you want me to kiss your eyes? It makes you feel better.”

“No, that’s okay, I’ll pass on that, but Snow . . .”

“Is she okay?”

He brightened, grinned. “She stonewalled the cops. Reminded me of myself when I was a kid. Wily as hell.”

“But didn’t—” I couldn’t say her name. “Did she say what happened, where they’d been?”

“Kathy didn’t come back. Just Snow. Kathy’s still out partying.”

“After all that, you came to see me. That is so nice of you, Finn. And thank Taylor for not minding. Don’t tell Taylor about Michael. But that was nice of her, really nice, to release you. She must still be around the bend.”

“Yeah, she is, but better for Snow if Taylor calms her down. Not that Snowy needed calming. Better if she’s just with her mom, though. I’m hopeless.”

“I saw Snow and her.”

“Get out.”

“I did. I saw them walking toward that big rock where everyone suns and swims. Snow was—you’re right—different. Teenage. I was so crazy, I mean upset, startled to see”—forced myself to say it—“Michael’s lover. She was so close I could touch her, I almost didn’t notice Snow, I didn’t think. He brought her here on our vacation. He’s a monster. I married a monster.”

“The parmigiana is okay, signora?”

“Oh, it’s delicious. I’m just not hungry.”

“She eats like a bird,” said Finn.

“The Italians always ask that, if you leave anything, have you noticed? They expect you to clean your plate. No, they want you to be happy. A tragedy not to enjoy a meal. I’d kill for that to be my tragedy. What do I do?”

“Spend the night somewhere else. Go back in time to pack and get on the plane.”

“What do I do with my life?”

Finn emptied the rest of the wine in my glass. “We need somewhere to spend the night.” He went over, chatted up the bartender and the two young women, and returned with a card. “This way. Down this street.”

I stood up, drunk and dizzy, sat down, and started over very slowly. Finn wrapped his arm around me. He smelled sexy, of tobacco, sweat, and garlic.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get you a room.”

I
BLAMED
F
INN
.

He’d let his daughter, too shy to ask directions, waltz off in this stone city with no stop signs or stoplights, where streets while not identical to each other were as indistinguishable as one natural pearl from another. I have a pearl necklace that belonged to my great-aunt, Bunny Seddley, three strands, and while each is different, the differences are minuscule. These houses and streets aren’t pearls, of course, nevertheless. He didn’t take her cell number either. Can you imagine? Later he pointed out that most likely she couldn’t afford data roaming. “Bet she didn’t have data roaming,” he said. “Costs a bundle.” I pretended not to hear. He’d trusted his gut. I think he said that while we were waiting for the police. Maybe I only think he said that because it’s the kind of thing Finn would say.

My gut tells me this person is reliable. I’ll entrust my daughter to her. My only daughter, not that I mean it would be any different if we had two but we don’t.

I knew, sitting in that lobby with his uselessness next to me, that Snow and I would be better off without him.

As for the police, I barely recall anything, following them down the hall, my legs wobbly, the manager’s office, rocking in the chair. “You were making animal noises,” Finn told me. I said to April, “Why would he say that? Why would he tell me I humiliated myself?” On the floor under the manager’s desk were a bunch of wires held together with a rubber band. Wasn’t that a silly thing to notice? I thought,
She needs a snap-collar cable like the one I have
.

I remember biting down on my fist not to scream, and Michael interceding, being so grateful for his intelligence and assuredness. They had to think, if he was with us, that we were important Americans.

When I saw Snow, it was as if my life was given back to me.

Grief overwhelmed, but then, what in the world—Snow was made up as if she’d gone wild at a makeup counter. Her clothes were trampy, that’s the only word I can think of—no, slutty. Snow was suddenly sixteen. Yes, sixteen and jailbait.

I wanted to throw a blanket over her.

I had to keep my wits, a challenge with the police trying to dig in and get some information. Snow was too vulnerable to be submitted to a third degree. Being a mother has made me a warrior, that’s what I told April.

I suppose we were all overwrought and I should forgive Michael. So rattled was he that he actually shook Snow for something she said to him. Shook her?! I ultimately concluded
that his reaction was a perverse expression of relief, but Finn let him have it.

I kicked Finn out, took Snow to the room, and ran a bath.

“Are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?”

I didn’t hear her answer and went back into the room where Snow was lazily circling, letting her hand dance along the bed and across the bureau.

“We ate,” she said. It thrilled me, the ordinariness of simply hearing my daughter’s voice.

“Oh, that’s nice. You had a gelato, shopped, and then ate what?”

“Pizza.”

“Where?”

Snow stopped at the mirror and picked up the brush. She leaned in to see her face close-up.

“Snow?”

Her eyes caught mine in the mirror.

“Where did you eat?”

“A café. With boys.” She brushed slowly, arcing the brush to let her glorious hair fan out and settle.

“Where did you go after that?”

“Nowhere.”

“Did anything happen? I know I asked you downstairs. You might not have wanted to say then. This is just between us.”

“This is just between us,” said Snow.

She sounded exactly like me, which mixed me up. I lost my train of thought.

I wanted those clothes she was wearing. I wanted to stuff them in the wastebasket, but I thought, no, I’ll do what I do with Finn’s awful clothes, misplace them later.

Snow fluttered toward me and then around me. I spun to follow. It crossed my mind that she was hyper, although she is not hyper, she has always been the opposite of hyper and I hate labels. Still, she did seem overly excited. “I’m glad we’re going to Ravello tomorrow. Snow, if you don’t take a bath, you should wash off the makeup.”

She tugged the string on her pants and let them drop to the floor.

“My goodness, she bought you a thong.”

I don’t know why I even say this, it is obvious, but Snow and I have no modesty. Yet I was embarrassed to talk to her standing in the middle of the suite, naked except for that little triangle patch over, well, barely over her fuzz of sprouting pubic hair.

“Put on your pajamas.” Conveniently they were out on the chair because I had left out everything we would need for the trip tomorrow. I thrust them at her. “Where is that woman now?”

“She went with them. I got lost. It’s hard to find your way here.”

“What an irresponsible dolt she is. Leaving you to find your way back. How awful for you. Were you frightened?”

She only blinked. Rapid blinking for five seconds or so, a long time to blink. I recognized it as one of her turtle moves. She walked into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Nothing strange about how she did that. She’s a vigorous brusher and afterward she always bares her teeth, examining them in the
mirror, and, with her tongue, swipes them across the top. I found it comforting to see, business as usual. From that alone I knew nothing bad had happened.

I decided not to make a fuss about her washing off the makeup.

“What did you say to Michael?” I asked as she slipped into bed and drew the covers up to her chin. “What did you whisper to him, Snow?”

She flipped over on her tummy and closed her eyes. She was done. Too exhausted to answer, I’m sure. Too traumatized. Better forgotten. A night we would delete from our mental hard drives.

Watching my daughter drift into slumberland, letting my hand rest lightly on the small of her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breath was pure joy.