streets in Mulberry Bend. Pinching her scarf tight against the lump forming in her throat, she made her way to Mamma, without the healer and without the priest.
She let herself in with her key. “Mamma, I am home. I am not going to night school.” She chided herself for forgetting the roasted peanuts. She would get them tomorrow.
An odd light glowed from underneath the bedroom door. “Mamma?” Sofia slowly opened the door. The scent of smoke hit her. Shoving the door open wide, she could see a candle on the floor. It had ignited a newspaper, but fortunately the flame had not spread toward the bed where Mamma lay.
“What’s going on here, Mamma?” Sofia stomped out the small fire in a panic. She threw open the window on the street side.
Mamma coughed and then thrashed about, throwing a blanket off the end of the bed.
“Have you been in bed all day, Mamma?”
The woman looked at her then, her eyes shadowed and her hair unpinned. “ I miei poveri bambini ! What could I have done? Oddio , what?”
Sofia urged her mother to lie back on a pillow. “It was an accident, Mamma. There was nothing you could have done. God knows that.”
Mamma moaned but at least she wasn't wailing.
“I will bring you a damp cloth to wash up, Mamma. We will be having company, and Papà should be home from work soon.”
Sofia’s hands shook as she turned on the faucet in the bathroom outside their rooms. Mamma was worse. Much worse. She rambled as though in the middle of a dream. She should not be left alone.
Sofia had just gotten Mamma freshened up when someone knocked on the door. “Father Lucci, Mamma. Would you like to answer the door while I make coffee?”
Mamma just stared toward the open window. Sofia rushed over, shut it, and fastened the iron security bar before leaving the room, worried that the woman might hurl herself out of it while Sofia was busy letting the priest in. She could no longer predict what her mother might do and that thought landed in her chest like an iron anchor. Sofia quietly closed the bedroom door before greeting Father Lucci.
“Father, might I have a word before I get Mamma? She is…resting.”
“How may I help, child?”
Sofia set a china plate on the end table beside him. She retrieved a slice of yesterday’s bread from the tin she’d brought into the sitting room and placed it on the plate. “I am sorry I have nothing better, Father.”
He smiled. “That looks wonderful to me. And you said you have coffee?”
“ Sì . It will be ready in a moment. May I tell you something?”
“Indeed you may.”
“My mamma, she’s always had blue moods, come September.”
“As your father told me. Even back in Italy, he said.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“No, but I understand women her age have episodes of melancholy. Not all that unusual, Sofia.”
“But do other women have them like anniversaries? At a certain time of the year?”
“I admit that is a bit unorthodox. What did you want to tell me?”
“I just discovered I had a twin who died. We were very young. I don’t remember. She died in September.”
“Oh, I see. That is most unfortunate.”
Sofia sat on Papà’s chair and put her elbows to her knees, leaning closer to whisper. “They did not tell me this, Father. I found out on my own, and, ever since I questioned them about it, Mamma has been in a terrible state.”
He arched his brows. “I am very sorry, Sofia. I know many families, well…they do not like to discuss sorrows. I’m sure they meant no harm in not telling you.”
Sofia rubbed her fingers around her neck. “That may be. Father, I am afraid I might have been the reason for this tragedy. I might have done something to cause my sister’s death and that is why they didn’t tell me. I was so young. Try as I might, I cannot remember.”
He folded his hands in his lap. “You want forgiveness for this thing?”
She had not thought of that. Just of Mamma, and what this had done to her. “I don’t
She let herself in with her key. “Mamma, I am home. I am not going to night school.” She chided herself for forgetting the roasted peanuts. She would get them tomorrow.
An odd light glowed from underneath the bedroom door. “Mamma?” Sofia slowly opened the door. The scent of smoke hit her. Shoving the door open wide, she could see a candle on the floor. It had ignited a newspaper, but fortunately the flame had not spread toward the bed where Mamma lay.
“What’s going on here, Mamma?” Sofia stomped out the small fire in a panic. She threw open the window on the street side.
Mamma coughed and then thrashed about, throwing a blanket off the end of the bed.
“Have you been in bed all day, Mamma?”
The woman looked at her then, her eyes shadowed and her hair unpinned. “ I miei poveri bambini ! What could I have done? Oddio , what?”
Sofia urged her mother to lie back on a pillow. “It was an accident, Mamma. There was nothing you could have done. God knows that.”
Mamma moaned but at least she wasn't wailing.
“I will bring you a damp cloth to wash up, Mamma. We will be having company, and Papà should be home from work soon.”
Sofia’s hands shook as she turned on the faucet in the bathroom outside their rooms. Mamma was worse. Much worse. She rambled as though in the middle of a dream. She should not be left alone.
Sofia had just gotten Mamma freshened up when someone knocked on the door. “Father Lucci, Mamma. Would you like to answer the door while I make coffee?”
Mamma just stared toward the open window. Sofia rushed over, shut it, and fastened the iron security bar before leaving the room, worried that the woman might hurl herself out of it while Sofia was busy letting the priest in. She could no longer predict what her mother might do and that thought landed in her chest like an iron anchor. Sofia quietly closed the bedroom door before greeting Father Lucci.
“Father, might I have a word before I get Mamma? She is…resting.”
“How may I help, child?”
Sofia set a china plate on the end table beside him. She retrieved a slice of yesterday’s bread from the tin she’d brought into the sitting room and placed it on the plate. “I am sorry I have nothing better, Father.”
He smiled. “That looks wonderful to me. And you said you have coffee?”
“ Sì . It will be ready in a moment. May I tell you something?”
“Indeed you may.”
“My mamma, she’s always had blue moods, come September.”
“As your father told me. Even back in Italy, he said.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“No, but I understand women her age have episodes of melancholy. Not all that unusual, Sofia.”
“But do other women have them like anniversaries? At a certain time of the year?”
“I admit that is a bit unorthodox. What did you want to tell me?”
“I just discovered I had a twin who died. We were very young. I don’t remember. She died in September.”
“Oh, I see. That is most unfortunate.”
Sofia sat on Papà’s chair and put her elbows to her knees, leaning closer to whisper. “They did not tell me this, Father. I found out on my own, and, ever since I questioned them about it, Mamma has been in a terrible state.”
He arched his brows. “I am very sorry, Sofia. I know many families, well…they do not like to discuss sorrows. I’m sure they meant no harm in not telling you.”
Sofia rubbed her fingers around her neck. “That may be. Father, I am afraid I might have been the reason for this tragedy. I might have done something to cause my sister’s death and that is why they didn’t tell me. I was so young. Try as I might, I cannot remember.”
He folded his hands in his lap. “You want forgiveness for this thing?”
She had not thought of that. Just of Mamma, and what this had done to her. “I don’t
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