Chapter 128
IT WAS THE LOCAL ELECTIONS in mid-February that lured everyone out of their homes. The Italian Communist Party seemed poised to win big, and by big, I mean there was a very real possibility that they’d secure enough seats on City Council to wrestle control away from the Christian Democrats.
Francesca was thrilled by this prospect, and during our lessons, she spoke of little else. She was convinced that once the PCI was in control, City Council would find a way to force the U.S. Navy out of the archipelago.
“Some of us will be very sad to leave La Maddalena,” I told her, trying not to take offense.
“I know, amica mia,” she cooed. “But rest assured, you will be long gone before any of this comes to pass.”
She was right. Paul’s tour was up in June, and he was due to receive his orders any day.
“Are you still hoping for New London?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I guess, yeah.”
Now that my Italian was better, our lessons had evolved.
Rarely did I pull my notebooks out of my bag; instead, Francesca and I just talked.
I’d tell her about a conversation Paul had had with his detailer, or she’d rant about the Christian Democrats forming a coalition with the Italian Socialist Party, and in the process, I’d learn new vocabulary like ciarlatani, which meant charlatan, and per l’amor di Dio, which was a nice substitute for for fuck’s sake.
Sometimes I tried to ask Francesca about Teo, particularly about Teo and Nina, but I never got very far.
She hadn’t seen him very often over the last few months, so she didn’t have much to report.
He did stop by one day when I happened to be at the apartment for a lesson, and after we’d chatted for a while with Francesca, he walked me to my car.
He was reporting on the local elections, and I asked if he thought things looked as rosy as Francesca thought they did. He laughed. “There’s no way the PCI’s going to pull this off.”
“Even with those families getting so much press coverage?”
He shrugged. “They’ve done a great job getting the word out. But at the end of the day, you can’t tie the birth defects to the subs.”
I frowned. “That’s what Paul says.”
“How is Paul?”
I thought about telling him the truth. That things were bad, perhaps not even salvageable. But admitting that we were having problems felt like its own kind of cheating.
“He’s good,” I said. “Busy.”
Teo nodded, and I swear it looked like he was about to say something, then he stopped himself. Finally, he just said, “That’s good.”