The Moon Always Rising - Alice C. Early Page 0,103

shoot of coralita vine. “So, both of us have passed the two-year mark—your death, Mallo’s. I hear that’s the big healing point. Aren’t we now supposed to just move on?”

“I will if you will,” he said.

“I already have,” she said, struck by the truth of it, the sea change in her only clear in retrospect.

“Then try working on what’s holding me.”

“Jealous of my progress?”

“Running out of time.”

She scrutinized him. He was even less substantial than the last time, as worn through as old cloth. “If I can’t manage your release in time, are you doomed to stick around forever? My own private jumbie?”

“I’m not a pet.”

“Pets are supposed to give us unconditional love,” she said. “All I get from you is unspecified wheedling. Come on, Jack, stop being so cryptic and just tell me what will release you.”

“Admitting the truth,” he said. He thinned, became lacy, and then there was only the bougainvillea.

Giulietta injected activity and laughter into the daily life at the pub. She often bested the men at dominoes and was the most boisterous player, encouraging the female customers to join in and cheering on the old men. Els watched the guests respond to her and tried to adopt a more welcoming demeanor.

Every day, Els brought Eulia, Peanut, and Vivian to spend the morning in the kitchen with Giulietta, who babbled in a combination of English and Italian while she taught Eulia to make pasta, gnocchi, and ricotta. Els mused that she might have learned to cook and be hospitable had her mother stayed at home.

On a Tuesday when the pub was closed, Giulietta announced she would make dinner for Els’s “new family.” Els wondered if she thought Vivian had accepted or even usurped her motherly role, and whether Giulietta might be affronted or relieved to be shut of it. Giulietta was a bit standoffish around the Flemings, except for Eulia, with whom she was more affectionate than with Els.

“It’s true, they’re more than friends,” Els said. “You’ll leave me again, and they’ll be here.”

With Els guiding her around the stocking clerks at Best Buy, Giulietta made up her menu, scowled over the produce, and held her nose dramatically at the odor of dried salt fish that permeated the back of the store. There was the usual chaos at checkout, little sense of a queue in the cramped space around the registers. When a young man in a Miami Heat tank top began flirting with one of the cashiers, Giulietta sent a burst of Italian his way, telling him to do his courting in the street.

He squinted at her. “You interferin’ with me?”

“Mum, let’s not have a scene,” Els said.

Giulietta stepped toward the man. “Who else but you make pretty girl forget her business, make customers queue all the way back to that stinky fish? Burning balls don’t make you hot stuff.” A few customers chuckled; others stared at the floor.

The young man patted the flaming basketball logo on his chest, turned to the cashier, and said, “Hear that, baby? Plenty hot stuff, all for you.”

“Big hot nothing,” Giulietta said.

“Woman, keep outta dis.” Mr. Heat turned to the other customers. “All a’ you my witness. She start this.” He backed away and slouched out the door, throwing an incomprehensible comment over his shoulder.

Giulietta followed him, berating him in Italian. Els left their basket and hurried after them. When she got outside, her mother and Mr. Heat were shouting at each other in the gravel car park. Els grabbed at Giulietta’s arm, but her mother swatted her away.

The altercation soon attracted an audience. Schoolgirls giggled into their hands. Young men clapped and hooted.

When a policeman pushed his way through the bystanders, Mr. Heat said to him, “De woman mek big ruckus when ah wasn’t even talkin’ to she.”

Giulietta said something in Italian Els couldn’t catch.

Els gave her a warning look. “Mum, I’ll take care of this.”

“She with you?” The policeman looked at Els. “Ah, yes, Jack’s,” he said with a little smile. “We heard you had a foreign visitor up there.”

“Wired in to immigration, are you?” Els said.

The officer’s smile tightened.

“Bad business you let a bum like him insult the turisti,” Giulietta said.

“I just sweeting up Tishiana in there, and she starts comin’ with her fatness into my affairs,” Mr. Heat said.

“Throw him in jail,” Giulietta said.

“Mum, wait in the car,” Els said.

Clasping his hands behind his back, the officer said to Giulietta, “We apologize, madame, for any unpleasantness. But I suggest you refrain from starting arguments with our