Chapter 4: The Fill History

The whole line heard it.

A woman at the back dropped her basket.

Leandro straightened up, nodded to me, and walked out under the bell.

I watched him cross Court Street without looking at the traffic. The traffic stopped for him anyway.

His brother.

I'd heard about the Iannone boy who died a week after Emilio. I'd never asked how.

At the Corsetti table, nobody asked how.

That night I called a divorce lawyer from my childhood bed.

He was a Manhattan man who'd never set foot in Carroll Gardens. That was why I picked him.

"Grounds?" he said.

"Pick some."

He laughed. Then he heard the name and stopped laughing.

"Mrs. Corsetti, are you sure you want papers served on him?"

"I'll serve them myself."

The papers came by courier Friday morning at eight.

Friday was our anniversary. Five years.

I'd planned a dinner. A tiny Yankees cap in a box with tissue paper.

The cap was still in my coat pocket. I didn't know what to do with it.

At twelve-thirty the lunch line ran to the door.

Mothers with toddlers. Old men with their blood pressure pills. Two Corsetti captains' wives, pretending not to watch me.

Then the bell rang, and the whole store went quiet.

Vittorio walked in first, in a dark suit with no tie.

Silvia walked in on his arm.

She wore a cream silk wrap dress that tied at the side, loose over the stomach. Her diamond bracelet caught the light from the window.

Vittorio looked at me.

His eyes went to my stomach, then away.

"Noemi," he said.

Silvia didn't let him finish.

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