seem fifteen—”
“Well, you seem every day of twenty-two.”
“—but you are fifteen. And it’s not right for me to court someone your age.”
“Because we haven’t been properly introduced? Because you haven’t spoken with Papa and asked his permission?” I am so sorry that I pointed out these things to him. Not only am I too young, but I know he would never compromise my reputation.
“It’s just the way it is,” he says simply.
“You seem to pick up and go out of town for months on end.”
“I went to Italy.”
“No, I know that. I mean other times. The rest of the time.” I don’twant Renato to think that I’ve been monitoring his comings and goings, but I have. When I would come into town to help Assunta, I would ask around casually about Renato. He is a mystery man of sorts, no one seems to know what he does or where he goes. “Do you have a sweetheart?”
“Some.”
“More than one?”
“I’m a young man.” He shrugs.
“Not that young. My papa was married at twenty.”
He laughs again. “Does it bother you that I see lots of girls?”
“Why should it bother me?” I bury my hands in the pockets of my pinafore.
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you’re going to have girlfriends. Why wouldn’t you?” I look over the side of our seat, and my stomach flips. I won’t look down again, I decide.
“You’re very bold and you’re very honest,” Renato says without judgment.
“And you’re honest with me, which I appreciate. You’re right. I’m probably too young for you. But I wish I wasn’t.” How I wish I hadn’t said that. I sound like a silly girl for sure.
Renato reaches into my pocket and takes my hand. “That is something that will change.”
The way he looks at me makes me blush. He knows I won’t always be fifteen, and so do I. “That’s what Mama says. You can’t believe where your youth goes. How fast it slips away. It’s sugar in the rain.”
“Your mama is right.”
“So that’s why you put your arm around me,” I say aloud. “Because you put your arm around all the girls.”
“Not all the girls.”
“Some?”
“A few.”
“Good for you.” I look at him and smile. “Why shouldn’t you?”
He looks at me quizzically. “Usually I get slapped if I don’t make a girl believe she is the only one.”
“It’s always better to accept the truth.” I look away.
“You don’t compete with other girls?”
“For a boy?”
“For anything.”
“What good would that do? There is always someone more beautiful, more accomplished, and then someone backward, less intelligent. Why would I compare myself to anyone else?”
“All girls do.”
“Not me. That’s a waste of time. I have a sister who has spent her life complaining because she feels she never gets what she wants. She’s a true malcontent. She always thinks there’s somebody out there who has it better than she does. She can never say to another girl, ‘That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing,’ because she’s worried that her own dress isn’t pretty enough.”
“That’s how girls are. At least the ones I know.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” I tell him.
Renato looks out over Roseto and smiles. “You’re a rare one, Nella.”
“Well, sometimes I’d like to be more like everybody else. But I can’t. I think about things too much, and that’s not good. Being thoughtful is a curse.”
“Not if you value your intellect.”
“I do. I just wish I had … whimsy. That’s it. Whimsy. The ability to dance through life instead of trudging like a farmer.”
“Leave whimsy to the giggly girls. You don’t need it. You have brains and beauty, a rare combination.”
“Why do you think I’m beautiful?” I’m not playing the coquette. I really want to know what Renato Lanzara finds beautiful.
“Let’s see.” Renato takes my face in his hands and looks at me clinically. “You have a good nose. It’s straight. And the freckles from the
“Well, you seem every day of twenty-two.”
“—but you are fifteen. And it’s not right for me to court someone your age.”
“Because we haven’t been properly introduced? Because you haven’t spoken with Papa and asked his permission?” I am so sorry that I pointed out these things to him. Not only am I too young, but I know he would never compromise my reputation.
“It’s just the way it is,” he says simply.
“You seem to pick up and go out of town for months on end.”
“I went to Italy.”
“No, I know that. I mean other times. The rest of the time.” I don’twant Renato to think that I’ve been monitoring his comings and goings, but I have. When I would come into town to help Assunta, I would ask around casually about Renato. He is a mystery man of sorts, no one seems to know what he does or where he goes. “Do you have a sweetheart?”
“Some.”
“More than one?”
“I’m a young man.” He shrugs.
“Not that young. My papa was married at twenty.”
He laughs again. “Does it bother you that I see lots of girls?”
“Why should it bother me?” I bury my hands in the pockets of my pinafore.
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you’re going to have girlfriends. Why wouldn’t you?” I look over the side of our seat, and my stomach flips. I won’t look down again, I decide.
“You’re very bold and you’re very honest,” Renato says without judgment.
“And you’re honest with me, which I appreciate. You’re right. I’m probably too young for you. But I wish I wasn’t.” How I wish I hadn’t said that. I sound like a silly girl for sure.
Renato reaches into my pocket and takes my hand. “That is something that will change.”
The way he looks at me makes me blush. He knows I won’t always be fifteen, and so do I. “That’s what Mama says. You can’t believe where your youth goes. How fast it slips away. It’s sugar in the rain.”
“Your mama is right.”
“So that’s why you put your arm around me,” I say aloud. “Because you put your arm around all the girls.”
“Not all the girls.”
“Some?”
“A few.”
“Good for you.” I look at him and smile. “Why shouldn’t you?”
He looks at me quizzically. “Usually I get slapped if I don’t make a girl believe she is the only one.”
“It’s always better to accept the truth.” I look away.
“You don’t compete with other girls?”
“For a boy?”
“For anything.”
“What good would that do? There is always someone more beautiful, more accomplished, and then someone backward, less intelligent. Why would I compare myself to anyone else?”
“All girls do.”
“Not me. That’s a waste of time. I have a sister who has spent her life complaining because she feels she never gets what she wants. She’s a true malcontent. She always thinks there’s somebody out there who has it better than she does. She can never say to another girl, ‘That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing,’ because she’s worried that her own dress isn’t pretty enough.”
“That’s how girls are. At least the ones I know.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” I tell him.
Renato looks out over Roseto and smiles. “You’re a rare one, Nella.”
“Well, sometimes I’d like to be more like everybody else. But I can’t. I think about things too much, and that’s not good. Being thoughtful is a curse.”
“Not if you value your intellect.”
“I do. I just wish I had … whimsy. That’s it. Whimsy. The ability to dance through life instead of trudging like a farmer.”
“Leave whimsy to the giggly girls. You don’t need it. You have brains and beauty, a rare combination.”
“Why do you think I’m beautiful?” I’m not playing the coquette. I really want to know what Renato Lanzara finds beautiful.
“Let’s see.” Renato takes my face in his hands and looks at me clinically. “You have a good nose. It’s straight. And the freckles from the
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