Don, I Left as You Wished novel · Chapter 31 of 32

Chapter 31: Sunday Again

"In June," I said. "At the bathhouse."

My mother turned around with the coffee pot in her hand.

"The bathhouse."

"On the deck. By the shallow end."

"Rosaleen, I've been to six Cavallaro weddings. They're at Saint Mary's, with the cardinal's cousin, and four hundred people, and a sit-down."

"The kids can't fit in Saint Mary's."

"Which kids?"

"All of them."

My mother looked at Santo.

Santo picked up his coffee and looked at the window.

"Fine," my mother said. "The bathhouse. But I'm doing the flowers, and nobody's going to stop me."

"Nobody would dare," Santo said.

"You be quiet. You're the groom. Grooms stand where they're put."

The last warm Sunday in September, she had everybody to dinner.

Not the families. Ours.

Joanie came with the big driver, holding his hand in front of people for the first time.

She dared anyone to say anything. Nobody did.

The bookish capo came with a cake from Bensonhurst.

The label on the box said CANNOLI CAKE. FROM THE GOOD PLACE, NOT THE TORRISI PLACE.

The old man with the cane came with his wife, who brought her flowered swim cap in her purse in case.

The bus driver came with his wife and their two girls in goggles.

And the gardener came.

The big driver lifted him out of the car and set him in his wheelchair at the top of the drive.

He sat there looking at the house for a long time.

"They let the tomatoes go," he said.

"There's no tomatoes," my mother said. "There hasn't been a tomato on this hill in ten years."

"Well, that's a disgrace."

By three o'clock he had Santo on his knees in the dirt behind the pergola, digging a bed for next spring, in his good trousers.

"Deeper," the old man said. "You dig like your father."

"How did my father dig?"

"Like a man who'd never held a shovel."

The kids found the pool at four.

I'd known they would.

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