France without ever seeing her again, and now it seemed that fate was on his side.
“You joined up,” Enza said, taking in his uniform, his short haircut, and the boots that laced up to his knees. He was the picture of the perfect soldier, but she didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to feel anything for him; that part of her life was over. He hadn’t chosen her; he hadn’t come to Hoboken, as his letter had promised, and despite her growing feelings for Vito, that fact was still painful for her.
“I thought it was the right and honorable thing to do.” Ciro was filled with too many complicated feelings to sort out qiuckly: apprehension about the war, equal parts admiration and desire for this lovely young woman standing before him, surprise that she was here, and not in Italy as he had been told, and confusion over what her feelings for him might be. His thoughts tumbled over one another, until he felt unable to speak or think clearly. But he knew he had to talk to her—tonight, before he reported for duty—and tell her everything he was feeling and thinking. “Where are you going?” She looked so lovely and soft, he could barely resist reaching out to touch her. More than anything, he wished he could hold her.
“Home,” she said. “Tenth Street.”
“May I take you for a cup of coffee?”
Her instinct told her to say no. After all, she was seeing Vito Blazek on a regular basis; they were sweethearts. She had embraced a new life, and it was working. Why would she rip out the hem of a garment she was building on the chance of a better offer from Ciro? But Ciro was going off to war, and she wanted to leave nothing left unsaid between them. “Okay, yes, let’s go for coffee.”
The Automat was full of soldiers on their last night before they shipped out. Ciro explained his orders on the way to the restaurant. He was to take the train to New Haven in the morning, where they would board the USS Olympic to England, and then take a ferry to France. His unit would proceed to the north of France on foot.
Enza poured the coffee, while Ciro bought Enza a plain doughnut from one window, and a slice of coconut cream pie for himself. He sat down at their table, shifting his chair to cross his long legs in the bit of room left between their table and the next one over.
“I want you to know, I went to see you on Adams Street. Last Christmas. Signora Buffa told me you went home to Italy.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Enza forced a smile, her heart filling with regret. She couldn’t help but think that any plans regarding Ciro were doomed. She was weary of the back-and-forth; her unrequited longing for him was exhausting. And now Ciro had joined the army. Not only would she be required to pine for him for an undetermined length of time, maybe years; she might lose him altogether. The thought was too painful for her to bear. She just needed to let him go.
“No, you didn’t.” He smiled weakly, his mind reeling at the amount of time he could have spent with her.
“When did you sign up?”
“A few months ago. Do you remember my friend Luigi? He tried to enlist, too, but he has bad hearing, so I’ll be going to fight alone.”
“Oh. They only take you if you’re perfect?”
“We know I’m not perfect.” Ciro took a deep breath. “May I write to you?”
Despite herself, Enza smiled, then reached for a pen inside her evening purse, but she hesitated before handing it to him. “Maybe you shouldn’t write to me, Ciro. I don’t want you to feel obligated to write to me.”
“But I want to write to you. Please, give me your address?”
“But what if I give you my address, and you never write? I would worry that something happened. Or, I would wonder if it was something I had said or done to offend you. Maybe I spilled your coffee, or maybe you don’t like girls who wear pink—”
“I like pink,” he said softly.
“You always like everything about me, until I’m gone. And then you forget me. We have this way with each other”—Enza’s eyes misted—“that’s . . .”
“Difficile.”
“Difficile,” she agreed. “You don’t owe me anything just because we come from the same place. It’s just a thread, Ciro. I could snap the bond with my teeth.”
“I