“Ha!”
Sandro spotted their connection, a dirty little man with a cap pulled down, standing on the street corner. “There he is. He’s waiting for us.”
“Sandro, you really should tell Elisabetta.”
“Enough. Keep an eye out for the police.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Beppe
December 1940
Beppe carried two wineglasses to Massimo’s table in the back of the empty bar. The two men had fallen into a routine, and Massimo would slip through the side entrance after closing time, have something to eat, and take home a bag of groceries.
“How was the panino?” Beppe sat down, noticing that every crumb of the sandwich was gone. His old friend had lost weight, and his worn brown suit hung on him. His omnipresent folder of papers lay open next to him, having grown even thicker.
“It was delicious. Did Maria make it?” Massimo pushed his plate away.
“No, Letitizia.”
“How is Maria doing? Still upstairs?”
“Yes, but she’s getting out more. She goes to Mass. Emedio takes her.”
“It must be hard. I’m sorry.”
“The war makes it worse. She reads the newspaper, the reports of the dead. She sees which ones are Aldo’s age, or whether they’re younger or older. She mourns them like her own.”
“How sad.”
“It’s odd to be home in wartime, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Beppe and Massimo locked eyes, soldier to soldier. Beppe’s old knee injury had prevented him from serving this time, and Jews were not permitted to serve.
Massimo sighed heavily. “Though I have to say, when I hear that the war is going badly for us, I don’t know whether to rejoice or weep.”
“I understand.” Beppe sipped his wine. “We’re off to a rocky start in the Mediterranean. The naval defeat at Taranto was an embarrassment. I’m hoping the Egyptian front goes better, but I feel ambivalent, too.”
“Understood.” Massimo opened his folder, slid a pen from his pocket, and made a note.
“On the other hand, it pains me to admit that the Germans have had success. Their blitzkrieg is something new, altogether. Hitler occupies much of Western Europe.”
“Yes.” Massimo made another note.
“I rue the day we joined forces with the Nazis. We’re Hitler’s vassals, that’s all.” Beppe watched Massimo take notes, which was becoming more frequent. “What are you writing, Massimo?”
“Important things I have to remember, they need to be written down.” Massimo turned the folder around and showed Beppe a line of figures. “See, this is the census, in August 1938. There were fifteen thousand applications for exemptions to the Race Laws—”
“Massimo,” Beppe interrupted him. “You told me this already, many times.”
“Oh, I did?” Massimo blinked. “Did I show you the families who got exemptions based on exceptional merits?”
“Yes. Massimo, how are you feeling, brother?”
“As well as can be expected.” Massimo turned the folder right-side up. “I’m proud of my work, I’m able to serve the Community. You know, I got the exemptions for many of those families. They were granted on applications I prepared or supervised. I wish I could have done it for my own family, I deserved it on the merits. I just missed that one year. I wish I’d joined the party earlier, like you.”
“We’ve discussed this, many times. It’s not your fault.” Beppe paused. “I’m worried about you. You don’t seem like yourself. You need a break.”
“A break?” Massimo’s eyes flared behind his glasses. “It’s not like the old days at the office. The Community needs me, it’s suffering. Nobody has work, there’s no money, and we struggle daily to eat.” His words sped up, running over one another. “I’ve trained people to file the applications. Sixteen people work for me at the synagogue, but every time we file one application, we find another family who needs one. It never ends.”
“I understand that, but you can’t solve everything yourself. I feel as if you’re trying to redeem yourself for not getting the exemption.”
“Perhaps I am, but what’s the harm in that? I don’t want another family to be in our position.”
“I’ll tell you the harm.” Beppe kept his tone without judgment. “You’re trying to redeem yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. You’re neglecting your family in the process. Be home more. That’s your place.”