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I braced myself right before impact, put out my arms, and we collided. BAM! She hugged me tight, and I was able to get my arms around her and managed to wheeze, “A
In fact, before impact, I’d seen that she’d put on a few pounds, and I was feeling them now as she squeezed the air out of my lungs. To add to my breathing problem, she was wearing a floral scent that overpowered whatever was cooking.
We unclenched, and I held her hands so she couldn’t get her arms around me again, and I looked at her. Her face was still cherub-like and made more so by too much red lipstick and rouge, but under the paint, her skin looked young. Mediterranean diet?
I caught my breath and said, “It’s so good to-”
She interrupted, “John, you look great. I’m so happy you came.” She went on awhile, asking about my children, but not about my evil seductress man-killing wife, and quizzed me on what I was up to.
A
A
Finally, Anthony interrupted his mother’s interruptions and said, “Okay, let him catch his breath, Ma. Hey, John, wine, beer, or hard stuff?”
I needed a triple Scotch, but I asked for a white wine.
Anthony opened the refrigerator and retrieved an uncorked bottle of something and poured two wines into cut crystal glasses.
A
“I do.” It had been my favorite from A
A
“Ma, he doesn’t need-”
“Anthony, sta’ zitto.”
I think that means shut up. I have to remember that.
A
Anyway, as far as why A
As A
As I was thinking about this, A
Anthony laughed and mimicked Mom. “Mangia! Mangia! You’re too ski
A
Anthony laughed again and poured his mother a glass of red wine, saying, “You don’t drink enough vino. Beva, beva.”
A
Anthony and I took some cheese, which to me smelled like the Bay of Naples, but it tasted good. So, if I had my choice between an Italian mother and a WASP mother, I’d pick orphan.
A
Anthony explained, “John brought it over.”
That seemed to make it okay, but she asked me, apropos of the label, “How’s she doing? The old lady.”
“Not too well.”
A
“I’ll pass on your regards.”
“Yeah. I hope she gets better.” She asked me, “So, you’re living there?”
“I am.” I was.
I had no doubt that A
A
We went through a sliding glass door onto a huge slate patio that was large enough to accommodate an emergency space shuttle landing, and beyond the patio, surrounded by a six-foot-high metal picket fence, was a swimming pool whose dimensions qualified it as an inland sea.
Beyond the pool, I could see a long wire dog run, and tethered to the wire was a big German shepherd, who even at this distance noticed me, stopped pacing, and began pulling at his leash and barking at me. Anthony shouted, “Sta’ zitto!” and the dog, who was apparently bilingual, stopped barking. I walked with Anthony to the pool, and he opened the gate and called out to the two children, who were paddling around with water wings, “Hey, kids! Say hello to Mr. Sutter.”
They looked at me, waved, and said simultaneously, “Hi,” then went back to their paddling.
The boy, I recalled, was Frank, age five, and the girl was Kelly A
I noticed now a middle-aged lady sitting in a lawn chair under the shade of an umbrella, and she was watching the two children like a hawk. Anthony called to her, “Eva, get the kids ready for di
Anthony turned and we walked back to the patio, and I thought we were going back inside, but Anthony moved toward a striped pavilion on the patio, and I now noticed a man and a woman sitting there.
We walked into the shade of the pavilion, and Anthony said to me, “You remember my uncle Sal.”
This sort of took me by surprise, and I was momentarily speechless.
Sitting in a cushioned chair, holding a cocktail glass and smoking a cigarette, was none other than Salvatore D’Alessio, a.k.a. Sally Da-da. I mean, it’s nice to have family over for di
Uncle Sal stayed seated, looked at me, and gave a half nod, mumbling, “How ya doin’?”
I replied, “Hangin’ in.”
I thought that our reunion after ten years should have caused him more joy, but he just sat there with his cigarette and cocktail and looked off into space.
The first time I’d seen Sally Da-da was at the Plaza Hotel, where Frank had invited half the Mafia in New York to his suite to celebrate his being sprung on bail. It was more than a celebration, however, it was also a show of force, where the don’s capos and lesser henchmen came to kiss his ring, and where his affiliated partners and even his rivals had come, by command, to witness this great outpouring of support for the capo di tutti capi.