The Girls of Piazza D'Amore by Connie Guzzo-Mcparland Page B

Totu walked towards us and took Lucia by the arm. She turned to me and speaking quickly in a whisper, told me, “I have to go with Totu, so sit here and wait a while before making your way back home, then walk slowly and try not to go home before an hour. And if anyone asks about me say that we went for water together and then on our way back we met some people and we spoke for a while and then I decided to go with them to the feast, and if they ask you who these people are, tell them you don’t know them.” Lucia spoke so quickly, I hardly understood what she was telling me, except that I would have to walk home alone in the dark. All I could say was, “What about your jug? Won’t they think it’s stupid for you to be going to the feast with a jug of water?”
    â€œDon’t worry about the jug. I’ll leave it here and get it back tomorrow morning.”
    I called back, “Tomorrow? You’re only coming back tomorrow morning?”
    Totu tried to reassure me. “We’re not sure when we’ll be back. Caterina, just go home and say that you left Lucia at the Funtanella talking with some people from Amato and you don’t know where she is.” He squeezed me on the shoulder, and then touched me gently on the cheek, affectionately, as if he understood my fears. “Maybe we’ll drive her home first.”
    Lucia pleaded, “Alfonso can pop up any time. We need at least a couple of hours before they look for us. Caterina is not a baby. She knows her way home.
    Totu and Lucia got in the car and drove away, but the car seemed to stop after only a couple of minutes, probably near the cemetery. Alone in the semi-darkness, I sat on a jutting rock and prayed that maybe they would change their minds and return. I waited as I had been instructed and listened for any movement, but all I heard was the sound of crickets coming from the ravine. After what seemed like an eternity, when they had not returned, I started walking slowly towards the village, going over in my head all that Lucia had told me. I was almost halfway to the piazza when I realized that I had also left my own water jug behind. I couldn’t go home without it and tell the story I was supposed to tell. Crying in frustration, I started running fast towards the Timpa. I could hear the first explosions of fireworks from Amato and I cried because there I was, all alone in the dark, far from my house, because of Lucia, while other people were having fun at the feast. Then the jerky vroom-vroom sound of a scooter coming from Amato drowned out all other noises, and, as it neared me, it filled the air with what seemed a crescendo of doom. I wanted to hide, but Alfonso rode by me almost instantly and then stopped. I was shaking with fear.
    â€œWhere are you going at this time, alone?” he asked.
    I told him I had gone for water and forgotten my jug at the Timpa.
    â€œDidn’t Lucia come with you? Where did she go?”
    Before I had time to finish saying what Lucia had told me to say, Alfonso scooped me up, sat me behind the scooter and, in a flash, dropped me at the Timpa. He spotted Lucia’s jug next to mine and, cursing San Francesco and other saints, got back on the scooter, turned his head towards me and yelled, “ Wait for me. I know where they’re hiding. I saw the jerk’s car parked on the road.”
    I crunched against the side of the mount and, to ease my fright, I closed my eyes and wished I was dreaming. Within a few minutes the scooter again broke the silence. I opened my eyes as a crying Lucia fell on the ground in front of me.
    â€œI’m not coming home,” Lucia screamed as she got up. “I’m running away from this stinking village.”
    Alfonso jumped from the scooter, towards us, as if to strike Lucia. Instead, he took my water jug and hit it against a stone, smashing it to pieces. The cold spring water splashing on my legs made me jump.
    â€œThis is