Page 144 of La Dolce Vita

"It all matters. He tried to reach out to us, and we pushed him away. Only call on him when we want something. He's a man, just like our husbands. And hurt people hurt people. The best way to deal with Armando is to end this feud with him and our husbands. Before it destroys us all."

"And how the hell do we do that with your husband creating all this drama?"

Mirabella sighed. "Not by challenging Gio. It won't work with him. He expects us to be emotional and irrational. Don't worry. I will work on him."

"Yeah, yeah, well we'll see how far that takes us," Marietta scoffed. The two of them sat in silence for a minute. Both of them watching the door, not sure what danger their husbands chose to face now.

"So, what do you think?" Mirabella asked.

"About what?" Marietta asked.

"All of this. I've seen you looking around the house. Picking up pictures. Opening drawers and cabinets. You had a lot of questions for Minnie. What do you have for me?"

Marietta sat back down. "I don't know. It's weird. I feel like I'm home, but still, I feel like nobody's home. Do you get what I mean?"

"Yes. This place is so familiar, even if it’s your first time visiting. I wanted it that way. It feels the same way it did when our grandparents were alive."

"Exactly! Familiar, yes, that’s the word."

"I wish you could have met them. They would have loved you." Mirabella smiled.

"I see the pictures of them and you. I wish I could have met them too. It would have made such a difference in my life." Marietta frowned. "Mirabella?"

"Yes?"

"Where are the pictures of Mama? You got everything on the shelf and the wall. Even Martin Luther King. What about Mama?" she asked.

"They were destroyed. Except for the few pictures, I found in the attic."

Marietta looked up to the ceiling. "Who destroyed them?"

"Granddaddy. And for years he never explained to me why. I think her death broke him. It was too hard for him to face how he failed her. I dunno. I just know growing up she wasn't on the shelf. And Me-Ma would only tell me stories about her when Granddaddy wasn't around."

"That's crazy. Don't you think that's crazy? She was his daughter. How could he do that?"

"I dunno. I didn't know our mother. Far as I knew, they were my parents. I never really questioned it. And when I got old enough to understand how crazy it was, Me-Ma died. Granddaddy didn't talk. He kept a lot of his pain bottled inside."

"Okay. I guess," Marietta said. She shifted to another subject. "Hey, why do you have two twin beds upstairs? In that room with the pink bedspreads. Was that your room?"

Mirabella nodded. "Yeah. It was mine. Weird huh? Clyde and Minnie kept everything preserved in here. Especially my room."

"Why twin beds though?"

"I wanted a sister or brother. Felt like I had one. I guess I wanted the bed for you. For the day you came home."

"Let's sleep in there tonight. You and me. It'll be fun!"

"What?" Mirabella laughed. "The kids are in there."

"Put them in bed with the King. He can be Papa for the night. You and I can stay up and just talk. Like, sisters. Have a slumber party."

Mirabella smiled. "I like that idea. Yes. Okay. I will have to convince my husband. And you will have to convince yours. Let's do it!"

"Is that a record player over there?" Marietta pointed. "That large wooden console over there?"

Mirabella glanced back to the piece of furniture that looked like a four-foot tall wooden chest with pictures on top. She nodded and sipped her lemonade. "That there, sister dear, is a vintage Curtis Mathes solid walnut console, with a turntable record player, eight-track player with a stereo system built inside. It is now a piece of plant and picture furniture."

"Are you kidding me? Like, are there albums inside? I remember a neighbor had one of those."

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