have wishes for both of you, and we are entitled to that. Where is your respect, son?”
“I respect you, of course.” Sandro realized that he had to think for himself, as Rosa had said, so he did. “But can’t I disagree with you? Doesn’t what happened today demonstrate the fallacy in your logic? People aren’t categories, and it’s morally wrong to throw me out of my school because I’m Jewish. It hurts people, to no end. It’s just plain wrong. The government is discriminating against us, so we can’t discriminate in return, can we? It’s unprincipled.”
His mother rose, clutching her napkin, uncharacteristically shaken. Her eyebrows sloped down, and her lower lip trembled. “I hate this fussing. I wanted to see my daughter get married. Now, I can’t, and I never will.” She held her napkin to her nose as she began to cry, then she turned and hurried from the room, with Rosa at her heels.
It left Sandro and his father alone at the table, and they fell silent, neither speaking to fill the void. Sandro looked down at his plate, trying to sort his emotions. He had to acknowledge a diminishment of respect for his father, whose views simply didn’t stand to reason. Sandro never used to have such cross words with him, except for the last conversation about Elisabetta.
Sandro wished they could resolve the issue, so he looked up, but was surprised to find his father sitting stiffly upright in his chair. His father’s eyes had filmed behind his glasses, and Sandro experienced a wave of regret. Never before had he seen his father cry.
“Papa?” he said, rising, but his father waved him to stay in his seat.
“When you have children of your own, you’ll understand.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Aldo
October 1938
Bar GiroSport was busy, and Aldo manned the coffee machine at the counter with their older barmaid, Letizia. His father worked in the outside seating area, taking care of customers and shooing away the accordion player and photographer who tried to make money from the tourists. Marco was serving a table of pretty nurses, and Aldo looked on, amused. Marco had always been naturally at ease with women, and Aldo often wished that he had his little brother’s charm, but it was unique to him. Aldo loved him too much to be envious.
“Due caffè ristretti,” Letizia said, meaning two coffees, short and dense, and Aldo picked up a cup and turned the lever on the tall Victoria Arduino coffee machine, with its gleaming eagle on top.
He brewed the coffee, his thoughts straying where they always did—to the danger presented by the anti-Fascists’ plans. Spada’s retirement party was getting closer, and Aldo was getting more terrified for Marco. To his growing horror, the anti-Fascists rehearsed the attack at every meeting, pretending that sticks were guns, since he hadn’t been dispatched to Orvieto yet. Every morning and night, he prayed to God for guidance, but none had come.
Aldo handed the coffee to Letizia and started brewing another cup, completely preoccupied. He had still been unsuccessful in persuading Marco to quit his job, but had been thinking of an alternative plan. It sounded crazy, but he was considering giving Marco tainted pork on the day of the retirement party, rendering him too sick to go. The only problem was that Marco had an iron stomach, so it would require a lot to get him sick, and Aldo didn’t want his little brother to end up in the hospital across the street. Anyway Marco would go to the party unless he was truly, deathly ill because he couldn’t wait to celebrate Spada’s departure.
Aldo handed Letizia the second coffee, glancing outside. His gaze happened to fall on the blond hair of a woman taking a seat at one of the tables in their outside seating area. He recognized her. It was Silvia, Uno’s wife.
Aldo looked down, hiding his face. His heart began to pound. Silvia had no idea that he worked here. If she saw him, she would learn his true identity.
“One coffee, senza schiuma,” Letizia said, meaning a coffee without the top of foam.
Aldo had to get out of sight. “Letizia, can you cover for me? I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Sure,” Letizia answered, and Aldo left the counter and was about to hurry into the back, when he realized that he was too late. Silvia had gotten up and was talking with his father, probably asking him where the bathroom was. In the next moment, Silvia entered the bar, making a bella