“It made me want to visit India.”
Anina entered the hospital room, closed the door behind herself, and began to cry.
“What is it about this room?” Matelda looked at Nicolina. “I need to change my room.”
“It’s not the room! Pain follows us wherever we go.” Nicolina went to her daughter. “What happened?”
“I’ve been busy and I haven’t seen much of Paolo and he went out and kissed a girl in a bar.”
“That’s not right. I’m sorry, honey.” Nicolina held Anina close.
“Has he been pursuing other women besides you on a regular basis?” Matelda asked.
“Yes. No. Only one, he says. He just met her. He says he doesn’t remember her name.”
Nicolina looked at Matelda, who winked at her daughter. Matelda patted the bed. “Come and sit. If the story of the elephant in India is old, ancient is the tale of the Italian man who kisses women in bars whenever he pleases.” Matelda took Anina’s hand.
“It sounds like nothing,” Nicolina said to Anina.
“Not to me. I trusted him.”
“He has to make it right,” Matelda said.
“There are some things that are unforgivable. I can’t marry someone who forgets me so easily.”
“Did he confess?” Nicolina asked.
“Right away.”
“He made a mistake. You really want to break it off over one mistake?” Nicolina said diplomatically.
“Do I break it off after the eighth time he does it? Do I break it off when we have a baby and he goes out at night and doesn’t tell me where he’s going? Where is the line exactly?” Anina looked to her mother and then to her grandmother.
“You draw it,” Matelda said. “But it’s a line, not a barbed wire fence. You can’t police your fiancé. You shouldn’t make decisions in haste, and you don’t make a final decision until you’ve seen a priest.”
Nicolina put her arms around Anina. “Mama’s solution to most problems.”
“Because they’ve heard it all in the confessional,” Matelda explained. “If there’s a sin out there, someone has knelt in the dark to confess it. The priest will put this transgression in perspective for you. You’ll see.”
* * *
Don Vincenzo was the parish priest in Lucca. He had come from the north, somewhere in the Lombardia region in the Italian Alps, where year-round the snow glazed the mountain peaks like spun sugar. Occasionally, he made an inside joke about polenta in his homilies that the older parishioners who had family in the north appreciated. Though the priest wasn’t yet fifty, he seemed old to Anina. Whenever her grandmother referred to anyone as robusto, it usually meant they weren’t young but they were in good shape for their age. Don Vincenzo was definitely robusto. He resembled an Alpine bear, tall and broad with a big head.
Paolo had more interest in the priest and his premarital instruction than Anina did. He was, in fact, more religious than she. Paolo kissed the medal around his neck before bed and first thing when he woke in the morning. He was devoted to Our Lady of Fatima. He walked in the holy procession and said the rosary on her feast day.
“Let’s begin with a prayer,” Don Vincenzo said from behind his desk. Anina and Paolo bowed their heads. “You may join hands.”
Paolo reached for Anina’s hand. He placed his hand over hers, which remained on the handle of her chair.
“Tender heart of Jesus, teach us to pray, help us to think, and lead us to love.”
Paolo and Anina murmured, “Amen.”
“I’m confused.” The priest swung his feet onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. “You completed your instruction. We posted the banns of marriage in the church bulletin. I’ve got your wedding date in the calendar. As you may know, I have a line of young lovers around the block waiting to get married and go through instruction. Anina called and said there was a problem. How can I help?”
“It’s been a stressful time,” Anina began.
“As sacraments go, weddings are the worst when it comes to stress. I’ve officiated, I don’t know, about a hundred of them, and they are generally tense situations. Two families—one side wears tuxedos and holds a gas can, the other wears a frilly gown and holds a match.”
“I used to believe weddings were magical,” Anina said quietly.
“They can be, or they serve as a low point in the couple’s relationship and the only way is up. I’m speaking of the stress, va bene? It does dissipate eventually. So, have you pinpointed the source of your anxiety?”