Chapter Seven
TERESA - NEW ROCHELLE, NY
Teresa heard the phone ring in the distance and wearily realized she’d fallen asleep.
She sprang up to answer it, hoping to reach it before it woke Anthony.
She felt so tired lately, tending to Anthony’s needs and doing the household chores, that when he went down for his afternoon nap, she lay down as well.
Glancing at the bedside clock, she saw that she’d been sleeping for over an hour.
“Hello?” she said groggily.
“Teresa, it’s me, Eva,” her mother-in-law said.
“Oh, Eva, you startled me.”
“Startled? Why?”
“I was just lying down while Anthony napped. I must’ve fallen asleep.” Teresa paused, not sure how much she wanted to tell Eva. “I’m just not feeling great, Ma. I’m so... tired.”
“You sick?” Eva asked.
“No, just... I’m not feeling like myself.”
Teresa hesitated, knowing if she continued, she’d start crying again.
She’d had a hard time shaking off the nagging feeling that started the night Frank abandoned her at the club party and had only gotten worse over the ensuing months.
She attempted to go about her daily routine but kept breaking into tears, like a faucet that wouldn’t stop flowing.
What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I shake this off?
She knew why. Marriage was lonelier these days.
Frank was coming home later and later from work.
But it wasn’t just work keeping him away from home.
He went out more after work. Sometimes he went to Antonio’s Pizzeria for a slice with some guys from Cadillac.
Or he took the boat out on Long Island Sound for a spin, alone or with his friend Henry.
At first, going out with the guys had been rare, and Teresa had thought it was good for Frank to blow off steam after his long workdays.
But it was becoming more of a habit, and she didn’t like it.
She wanted him home with her and Anthony.
More importantly, she wanted him to want to be home.
But he now went out a few nights per week, missing dinner and occasionally coming home after she’d gone to bed.
Frank sometimes didn’t even tell her what he was doing or where he was going.
He would just say he was going out. Out. Teresa hated that word.
“I’m coming to get you. Both of you,” Eva said decisively.
“What? No, Ma, you don’t have to do that.” A sense of relief washed over her, and a sob escaped from her throat.
“Yes, right now. Get out of bed, and get Anthony ready. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Teresa eked out.
Ten minutes later, Eva arrived and, in her typical no-nonsense manner, snatched Teresa up along with Anthony.
“Andiamo.” She gathered Teresa’s and Anthony’s things then picked up the kitchen telephone and dialed a number.
“Frank,” she snapped, “your wife and son are coming to my house for the afternoon. Go there after work for dinner.”
Eva put her arm around Teresa’s shoulders and ushered her out the door.
They went down the three flights of steps and into Eva’s waiting car.
Teresa slumped down in the passenger seat and wrapped the blanket more snugly around Anthony, on her lap, who was still peacefully napping.
Out the window, the houses flashed by like the pages of a comic book turning too quickly.
It was all a blur. Teresa couldn’t focus on any one thing, so she shifted her gaze to Eva, whose take-charge personality always calmed her.
Such a far cry from Teresa’s mother, Rosa, who had played the subservient wife to Teresa’s often-drunk father, Sergio, before he passed away—May he rest in peace—and doted on Teresa’s drug-addict brother, Marco.
Sitting ramrod straight behind the wheel, Eva wore a pleated skirt without a wrinkle, a crisp white button-up shirt, nude stockings, and her characteristic Italian leather loafers.
Her short brown hair was curled in all the right places, and she had a dusting of makeup on her face.
Teresa was envious. Eva wasn’t the prettiest woman, but she somehow always looked put together. Neat and clipped and fashionable.
When they arrived at the house, Eva got to work quickly. She put Anthony in his playpen in the living room then turned to Teresa in the kitchen. “Drape this towel over your housedress. Your hair needs washing.”
Teresa didn’t have the strength to object and wasn’t sure she even wanted to.
Eva pulled over a kitchen chair, set it with its back against the sink, and motioned for Teresa to sit.
Then she tilted Teresa’s head back and washed her hair.
As the warm water ran over Teresa’s head and down her neck, Teresa leaned toward it like she was looking for the beams of the sun.
Although petite, Eva had firm hands, and she massaged the shampoo into Teresa’s hair and scalp with big sweeping strokes.
It felt good to be touched so intimately, and it made Teresa realize how long it had been since Frank had really touched her.
She was grateful that Eva said nothing as she washed her hair, letting her relax and enjoy the sensation.
While toweling off Teresa’s hair, Eva leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Teresa, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You’re unhappy. Alone. Crying. Is it Frank?”
“It’s fine. I’m just having a hard time adjusting to being a mom, that’s all.”
“No. I’m not stupida, Teresa.” Eva looked at Teresa like she was trying to decide how to phrase her next statement, which made Teresa nervous, as the woman was always so sure-footed. “Is Frank not coming home after work? Is he staying out late? Are you and Anthony alone?”
Teresa stared at her wide-eyed, incredulous that someone had guessed exactly what was going on. Even more surprising was that this had come from Frank’s own mother. “Yes,” Teresa whispered.
Eva put her hands on her hips, her small stature belying her powerful personality.
“Teresa, here’s what you do. You are busy taking care of a baby.
It’s not easy. You’re a little musciad.” Eva swung her arms around in search of the English translation.
“You’re... sad. You’re not feeling or looking your best. Frank is probably overwhelmed with being a father and even a husband.
He may be straying. You being so upset all the time isn’t helping. Pull yourself together. Capisce?”
Teresa stared at her with her mouth open slightly, not knowing what to say. Is she blaming me? Does she know whether Frank is actually cheating?
Eva wiped her hands on a dishtowel and smoothed down her skirt. She looked up at Teresa and pointed her index finger in the air, like she’d just thought of something. “You can handle this. If you need help with little Antonio, you call me. You can drop him off here.”
“Ma, I don’t want to bother you—”
“Far niente. It’s nothing,” Eva said, holding up a hand and stopping Teresa. “You call me when you need me, and I’ll watch the bambino.” She stared at Teresa, waiting.
Teresa slowly nodded.
Eva continued. “At home, you need to take a bath, wash your hair, put some nice clothes on, and let Frank know you’re not giving up.”
“I’m not giving up,” Teresa promised. “I’m just so tired and a little lonely.”
Eva shook her head dismissively. “You need to make sure Frank remembers he has a wife and son at home and he should make the choice to be there and not be out gallivanting with Lord knows who. Do you hear me? You need to do this, Teresa.”
Teresa could hear an urgency in her mother-in-law’s voice.
She wondered if Eva knew something more about what was going on with Frank but wasn’t telling her.
Or maybe Eva had been through something like this when she was first married to Enzo.
It didn’t seem possible, though. Enzo was devoted to Eva and their family. And he was a devout Catholic.
She nodded slowly, over and over, looking Eva in the eye. Eva gave a firm nod, turned away, and headed into the living room, where Anthony was starting to cry.
Then Teresa mentally recited the tangled mantra of so many women. He will be happy with just me. I will make him happy. There will be no other women.