The Witch of Little Italy (26 page)

“You’re crazy,” Cooper said as he tried to lunge for her. But he couldn’t and fell in a great heap onto the Oriental carpet and tried to wriggle his body into a corner, squirming like a worm. He didn’t get far.

“Yes, yes … we’ll get to that
crazy
part, but not yet. Now is the time for you to listen. This is
my
confession, not yours.” Itsy picked up a teacup. Her hands shook with adrenaline and age, and the cup clattered against the saucer for a moment. Itsy smiled. It reminded her of Mimi, and she knew she wouldn’t set living eyes on her sister again. How she loved her sisters. Everything in her life had always been built around her siblings. All the choices. All the pain. All the joy.

“Are you ready for my story, Cooper? Because I’m ready to tell it, and you’re not the perfect person to tell, but you’re all I’ve got right now. And besides, somehow I think you might understand better than most would. And I’d like that. Someone to finally understand.”

“What makes you think I’d understand your crazy confession?” asked Cooper, still struggling to move his legs, not understanding his invisible binding. There was sweat on his brow and panic in his voice.

“Because only someone with a dark soul will be able to fully recognize what I have to say. Not that it matters, really, as neither of us are leaving here intact.”

Cooper tried to talk, but the toxins were already in his lungs.

Itsy took a sip from her cup and began to spin her tale.

*   *   *

“On Victory over Europe Day, May 8th, 1945, I was teaching seventh grade at Bayside Public School. It was almost time for my afternoon break, and I was starving. I can remember hearing my stomach growl, and the children giggling as they completed their quiet study. The classroom phone rang. I remember
knowing.
Staring at the phone on the wall until everything around it was dark gray and fuzzy. I walked to it with my hand stretched out. The children were murmuring. I supposed I did look odd. My sensible heels clicked on the floor. That smartass kid—I still remember his name—Bobby Horrowitz. He said ‘Are you gonna answer that or not, Ms. Amore? It might be my Ma callin’ me home!’ And the kids laughed. The kids were laughing while Mimi gave me the news. I left the phone dangling, I think, and walked out of the room.

“I must have taken the train. I can’t remember. It would have been smarter to take a taxi. But the A to the 145th Street station and then to the D train was a shorter ride. About an hour and a half all in all. An hour and a half I can’t remember. I remember flashes, I guess … and then—poof—I was standing in front of my family’s building. 1313 East 170th Street. Home. I opened the iron gate, walked up the cement steps, and faced Mama’s fortune-teller’s prophecy.

“In the events that followed the coroner leaving with half of my family, I went into the garden to try and breathe. It was too much. So much I couldn’t feel anything at all. It scared me—that numb. It reminded me of a story I read in
National Geographic
where a man almost froze to death but lived to tell about the experience. He described it as a peaceful feeling. How he was suddenly warm and sleepy. Comfortable, even, as everything inside of him was shutting down. Even though he knew he was about to die. The lie of death. The invisible tragic comedy of it all.

“The baby inside me wiggled. It was the first movement I’d felt. My heart soared. I put my hands on my stomach and proceeded to make a very bad mistake.

“‘Shhhh, little one,’ I crooned. ‘It’s over now. You’re safe. You’ll be born with Mimi’s baby who’s supposed to live.’

“‘Who are you talking to, Itsy?’

“It was George. His face was swollen and purple with grief. Why did I leave him alone? He was so frightened. Why hadn’t I gone to him right away? I knew his hiding places. It was really
all my own fault,
what happened next. My fault in so many ways.

“He took me by the shoulders. The roses, Mama’s roses blurred together in great swatches of pink as he shook me back and forth.

“‘Is there a baby inside of you?’

“‘George, stop shaking me.’ My voice sounded like the A train.

“My brother slapped me across the face. I looked at him, my tall handsome twin. What a man he could have made if he’d been whole. He pointed a shaking finger at me, even as the rest of his body arched away repulsed.

“‘You’re … you’re not married. You can’t have a baby unless you are married. Sinner! Sinner … Sinner!’

“He came at me then, my brother, and began to beat me. I don’t remember much after the first blow: It was aimed at my head and tossed me into the garden wall. I tried to protect my stomach, but George couldn’t stop himself. He kicked and hit. Everything was pouring out of him and raining down on me. And all I really remember is trying to figure out how to save him from hurting me, because I knew he’d never forgive himself. I’ve heard that nowadays people who have children born like George put them in institutions. A shame. Really. Because George was not a violent person. He simply couldn’t process all the pain. And I knew, no matter what came next, I’d never remind him of how he hurt me. I’d never speak of it again.

“Nancy, a young girl my age who lived next door, found me and helped me inside. The halls seemed endless. She put me in Mama’s bed and delivered the baby. Dead. I woke to see her standing by the window holding a tiny bundle in bloodstained blankets. There was a sickening moment of hope where I thought it might still be alive. Where I forgot to remember that they were all dead.

“Nancy turned to look at me. The blanket dropped and I saw the top of a blue-tinged head, bruised and still tempting. Fuzzy hair.

“‘What do you want to do with her, Itsy?’

“With her?
Her
. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I had to show her, instead. I had to show Nancy what we would do with my daughter.

“Later, when Nancy needed a place to live, I wrote Mimi a note.
Give Nancy Bunny’s apartment.
Mimi looked at me, inside of me, and didn’t ask any questions. Nancy had the apartment and I moved back home, too.”

Itsy stopped to take a breath.

“Nancy is Anthony’s grandma. They’ve lived here for a long time, the Rivettas. That boy is part of us. But not you. You’re an empty one, aren’t you, Cooper?”

Cooper tried to answer her and couldn’t.

Itsy kneeled next to him on the floor and placed her cup on the coffee table. She moved his hair back from his sweaty brow. “That’s right. You can’t talk. I am so sorry about that.
I
know how difficult that can be.”

Cooper tensed as much as he could under her touch. She could sense his fear.

“Don’t be afraid. You’ll be a better person when this is all over. And there are plenty of people who live their lives an empty shell. And it isn’t pretty. Like George. Not George when he was little, George when he was joyless. I don’t think anyone should live like that. But George was different in that he was special, you know … innocent. There’s not
one bit
of innocent in you, is there, Cooper?

“And I know you think I’m crazy. Perhaps I am. The truth is everyone is crazy, haven’t you realized that yet?”

*   *   *

“You see I was
just trying
to fix what was
so, so
broken. Trying to prove we could change what we see. It was the day when Carmen came back to get Babygirl. George ran down to find me. He came for me yelling all the way. The whole block could hear him.

“‘Itsy!’ he was yelling. ‘They’re trying to take her!’

“When he found me in the garden (Babygirl must have just opened the trunk in the attic), I’m sure I looked a sight sitting there with my hands on my neck trying to hold back all the coarse words that wanted to spill out.

“He skidded to a stop. ‘Are you okay, my Itsy?’ George always reverted to his smaller self when he was nervous. He let the fake grown-up slip away. I nodded. I began to ask, ‘Where is she?’ but closed my throat against them. I didn’t trust the deluge that might come. I scribbled:

“
Where is she?

“‘In the attic.’

“Of course she was.

“That’s where the trunk was. Where she found it the first time.

“I moved it, you know. When she moved back here last Christmas. I moved it over to Far Rockaway so she wouldn’t be here when you came. She’s out there right now with her real true love uncovering my secrets while I’m taking care of hers.

“Anyway, when I got up there that day long ago and I found her so small, so frightened. She asked me for help and help her I did. I fixed everything. She asked me if I would help her to forget. A child’s silly, selfish request. If I hadn’t seen the future, if I didn’t already know that I needed to protect her from this building, from all of us, from you, I’d have soothed the girl a different way. But don’t you see? She figured out a solution to my problem without even knowing it, that little witch. If I granted her wish, and she forgot all about us, then why would she ever come back? I thought I was fixing things for the better, but I only made it worse. You know what they say about
pride goeth before the fall
and all that nonsense. Anyway … I wove my magic right there in the attic, fingers crossed it would work. Boy, did it ever.

“We came out of Georgie’s apartment holding hands. Carmen was already there, the door to the front of the building wide open to the sunny, late summer day. The girl cocked her head to one side as she watched Carmen fall to her knees and hold her arms out with grasping hands. ‘Eleanor! Come to Mommy! Mommy’s home, baby!’

“Her little hand left mine in slow motion, and she walked down the stairs, taking tentative, princess steps. George ran in. He looked around at all of us wildly. He met her halfway on the staircase.

“‘Babygirl?’ George called to her, quietly.

“‘Stay away from her, Uncle George! She’s coming with me!’ screamed Carmen.

“Mimi put her hand on Carmen’s shoulders. ‘Give them time.’

“George looked at his best pal. ‘Babygirl?’ The girl hesitated and George … my sweet brother George, plopped right down on the stairs and turned her around to look into his eyes.

“‘You’re gonna stay with us, okay?’ he was sniffling. ‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.’

“‘Who are you?’ asked Babygirl.

“‘What?’ George was choking back his tears. ‘Please don’t leave me. Please? I need you. I love you. Please?’ An old man begging a young child. It was heartbreaking.

“The girl put her hand on his cheek ever so gently, like cupping an orchid.

“And that’s when the enormity of my mistake occurred to me. She didn’t remember anything. There she was, alone on the stairs, surrounded by strangers. How brave she was.

“‘I’m supposed to go with you? Are you my mother?’ she asked Carmen.

“Carmen, confused and flustered, pushed off Mimi’s hands. She ran to Babygirl and picked her up. Babygirl was too big to be carried. Her skinny legs dangled by her mother’s side. It reminded me of the rocking chair. Carmen was always running away with things much too heavy for her to handle.

“Anyway, she carried her daughter out of the building screaming all kinds of things out of her mean mouth. Things like, ‘What did you do to her?’ ‘Fuck you people,’ and ‘crazy.’

“Again, we are all crazy. Every human being has the capacity for crazy. I suppose Carmen knew that best of all.

“The taxicab was gone in a smudge of yellow and we were all left there alone, each in our own way. Little Anthony, who watched the whole thing through the banister bars, Fee from the doorway of 1B. Me at the top of the staircase … Mimi on the front stoop watching her little family get away—again.

“But none of us was left more alone than George, who began to weep.

“I tried to comfort him. There was so much to make right. I thought maybe my deal was one way. Perhaps I could use my words, forgive him. I opened my mouth but all there was, was that ever so familiar dryness. ‘Get off me!’ he shouted shrugging my touch and standing up … shorter somehow.

“He went to the top of the staircase. He looked down over all of us. For a moment he began to shimmer, I thought he might just disappear, but it wasn’t that at all. It was the light coming out of him.

“‘I am not Georgie anymore. I am only George. Old man George. I will no longer play,’ he stated before he went into his apartment and slammed the door. ‘Leave me alone,’ we heard.

“And that was the day Georgie died for the second time. Killed The Day the Amores Died. Resurrected that sweet summer by Babygirl, and killed one more time by yours truly. Grumbly George of 170th Street became a mean old man. Smelly, too. Was it worth it? I don’t know. Now that she’s back, I don’t know anything anymore. And you don’t know anything either, do you, Cooper? Don’t know who you are or what you want. Not even a full person. ‘New to the planet,’ Mama would say. And if I don’t kill part of you, you’ll kill her. It’s clear as day to me. And Cooper, I can’t let that happen. I have to protect her the right way this time. Mimi was wrong. So was Mama. We
can
change what we see. There’s more power inside of us than we’ll ever know.”

Itsy stopped talking and took a long look at Cooper.

She sat down on the floor. “So it’s my job…” Itsy felt the pain at the back of her neck pulse through to her chest. “My goodness? Is it time already?”

And then Itsy, with one frail hand, covered Cooper’s mouth. “Don’t be scared, Cooper. You won’t die. I’m no killer. But I can’t let you leave here remembering anything. So I have to try the Forgetting spell one more time. Only this time, I have to make sure it’s completely binding and can never be undone. So I’m taking your memories with me, Cooper. It’s the only way.”

She applied pressure to his mouth while letting the constriction in her own chest pull at his soul. It didn’t take long.

Itsy laid her head in Cooper’s lap waiting for her death, waiting to see the blankness of the spell envelop his eyes. Her soft silver curls fell gently across his legs. Then, there it was, the look. A wave of anguish, a kind of empty sorrow she’d never felt. It was Cooper’s soul. Free and yet not free. “Forgive me?” she asked. “Please forgive me, Mama? Henry? George? I did it for Elly!”