Benny and Ray 3

Phoenix

 

Anna Sophia Vecchio, as was the case on most Sundays, was the first to rise.  She loved this time of the morning, the quiet peacefulness as her rambunctious grandchildren, (and equally rambunctious children) still dwelled in the safety of slumber. The air felt warm and still.  Although mid September already, summer burned on. She cracked the window next to her bed to let in the misty morning air.  Honeysuckle on the vine beneath her window was sweetly scented and thick from vigorous summer growth.  She must ask Ray to trim it back just a bit before it collapsed under its own weight. 

 

Sophia gathered her robe around her, slipped her feet into her house shoes, and quietly treaded down the stairs to collect the Sunday paper, and to have her coffee before the mass.  She was startled to see Ben Fraser and his dog walking through the kitchen door, fat newspaper in hand.  She gave a startled “oh!” hand flying up to heart. 

 

The man practically bowed, averting his eyes.  “Sore-ry!”

 

“It’s fine, Benito.  I just assumed you were upstairs with the others.”

 

“Diefenbaker and I usually rise at 06:00.  We get in some exercise to start the day.”  He offered up a gentle smile, and the paper.

 

She stepped forward and kissed his cheek.  “Caro.  Sit. Did you eat? Do you want some coffee? I was just about to put a pot on. How about some eggs and toast?”  She placed the paper on the table.

 

“I’d love some coffee, thank you.  May I help you prepare breakfast? ”

 

“Don’t be silly.  Sit.”

 

“I insist.”  The man was so polite, still, after so many dinners and family celebrations in this house over the years.   She wished that he would feel like he belonged here, with or without Raimundo.

 

Benito reminded her so strongly of Paolo* sometimes, that she felt he was her son also. Poor Paolo. All alone in Boston, with no family nearby to guide and support him. It made her so unhappy that he was not at home like her other children, not even married at least, but there was nothing she could do about it but pray.

 

Benito was like Paolo in his manner, more so than appearance; he kept to himself.  She put a hand out to touch his face.  He looked a question at her, but permitted it. 

 

“It’s only that you remind me of Ray’s brother.”

 

“I’m sor-ey.”

 

“That’s a good thing.”

 

Sophia began to pull together the ingredients for omelets, and also took out several sausage links before retrieving coffee and filters. As she filled the carafe with water, she noticed the wolf-dog staring back at her with gleaming eyes, panting.

 

So did Benito.  “Dief!  Don’t start.  You’ve already had your breakfast.”  The dog made a noise that sounded very much like a disappointed ‘awww’, which made her smile. The young man opened the kitchen door and shooed the dog out.  Diefenbaker reluctantly went, claws tapping on the wood floor.  “Sorey,” he said to her. “He wouldn’t give us a moment’s peace.”

 

 She pulled out a mixing bowl for him, and indicated the utensil drawer for the whisk and spatula. 

 

“I think Ray sees a lot of his brother in you, too, which is why he likes you so much. Those two were so close.   I had my baby boys only eleven months apart.  When they were very small, I used to dress them like twins.  It was easy since they started school the same year, and Raymond was a little small for his age.”   Sophia thought of how those two boys had been each other’s salvation, had protected each other from their Poppa when he drank too much.    

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ben said.  He halted his beating of the eggs long enough to make eye contact.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Oh.  I just assumed from some things that Ray has said that he was…”

 

 “Oh, thankfully, no.  He is not with God.  He is back east in, Boston. He has not been home in years.”

 

“Oh, dear.  I believe I just ‘stuck my foot in my mouth’? Sorey.”

 

“No need to apologize,” Sophia murmured.

 

Shortly, the room filled with the aroma of sharp, strong coffee.  She readied the mugs, cream, and sugar.  “I can understand why you would get that impression.  It’s almost as though he has died, in a way. ”

 

“What happened?”

 

“My son decided to go to school in Boston.  He wanted to get far away from his Poppa’s strong hand, I’m afraid.”

 

Ben poured whisked eggs into the sizzling skillet and they quickly bubbled up.  “He hit his children.” It really wasn’t a question.

 

“Just the boys.  My husband would never hit the girls. Or me.  He’d never take his hand to a woman. God rest his soul. He was very strict with them, yes. With all his children, but the boys especially.  He expected so much from them.  The girls, as long as they got married, he could be satisfied with.  But the boys….he didn’t want them to take after him.  He was often unhappy, Benito.  Ray does take after him sometimes, with his dark moods.  Happy one moment, angry the next.”   She put in bread to toast, and placed butter on the table. 

 

Sophia heard Ben gently scraping, lifting and folding the omelet.  “Why were Ray and his brother in the same grade?”

 

“We held Ray back from starting school.  He was having trouble with his English, and really was not where he should have been.  Plus he had occasional wetting accidents that were troublesome. Oh. Don’t tell him I told you that.  He would be mortified. It wasn’t his fault; he just has a small bladder.”

 

His back to Mrs. Vecchio, Ben smiled. He realized that Ray often did have to pee at the most inopportune moments.

 

 Sophia Vecchio continued, “We just thought it would be better for Ray if he had a little more time at home with his mother and his siblings.  Maria was three at that time, and Ray did not like to be separated from her. He thought Maria was his baby; he used to carry her everywhere.  But oh, the trouble those three could get into.   Those kids really wore me out.  You see now, why I took such a long break before having my little Francesca!”

 

Ben laughed softly as he picked at the edges of the omelet, imaging his friend as a little boy. “So, Ray’s first language is Italian?  Why did I not know that?”

 

Sophia poured a small glass of orange juice for Ben. “Ray studied his English very hard. He did not want anybody to think of him as coming from some poor immigrant family.  But it never came easy for him. Oh, that boy still cannot spell!” 

 

Ben thought with regret of the times that he nit-picked Ray’s spelling and typing skills as he hunted and pecked out his police reports. He chastised himself for being so insensitive.

 

“Maria and Paolo had no trouble with English or Italian. Paolo even learned a little Greek. Francesca, on the other hand, well, we settled for just English….”

 

Ben slipped the first omelet on the plate, and started the second.

 

Sophia asked, “And what about your family, eh, Benito? Your mama, your papa?”

 

Ben carefully formulated what to say before speaking.  “My mother died when I was seven.  My father’s parents raised me mostly.  We moved around the Northwest Territories quite a few times while I was in school.  My father was a … visitor…to his own family.  We never really lived together after Mum died.  Sometimes, I’d go on holiday with him, travelling here or there.  I wanted to spend the summers with him, but he wouldn’t let me.  Always…on patrol, or…maybe having too good of a time living his life.  In any case, I got used to seeing him only four times a year.  One spring, he built himself a little cabin right outside of Yellowknife.  Once school was out for the summer, he sent for me.  I got to help him finish it.  I stayed with him for two months, which is the longest continuous length of time we have ever spent together.  Every weekend, he’d take me into town for a bit of fun. The summer of seventy-seven.  Best summer of my life.  We got together a little more regularly once I joined the RCMP.  There were good times together, but they were still few and far between. ” 

 

Sophia felt she finally had been shown a key to this young man’s character.  Growing up with no mother, a distant father.  Poverino!

 

“And your grandparents?”

 

“Well, I guess you could say the Frasers were disciplinarians.  Very stern.  I could hardly blame my father for turning out the way he did.”

 

“They beat you?”

 

“Oh, great heavens, no. I didn’t mean to imply that.”

 

“Benito, come and sit down.  Eat your food while it’s hot.  I’ll get the other.”  She shooed him away from the stove.  Ben poured the coffee while she tended over the second omelet.

 

For the first time that she could remember, Benton offered up a comment without being asked a question.  “You know, there’s not a single photograph of them that has survived.  My parents, my grandparents.  Most of  them were destroyed when my father’s cabin was set on fire.  The few pieces I kept at the apartment were destroyed in Friday’s fire.  I feel… I’m not sure what I feel.  I feel…  a little untethered, perhaps.

 

“You have a brother in Raimundo, Caro.  And you have the others and me.”  She gathered her eggs and came to sit at the table.  After she had settled herself, spiced her eggs, and had a sip of her coffee, she said, “I want you to stay with us for a little while.  Do not try to be by yourself right now.  It is not good to be alone all the time, Benito.”

 

“I’m not sure that I could impose.”

 

She gazed at him, waiting until he met her eyes.  “How old are you, bambino?”

 

“I’m thirty-four, ma’am.”

 

“Perfect.  You stay here for a year, or two. We’ll find you a good Catholic woman to marry, and you will make lots of bambini, yes? I know just the girl, my old friend Theresa’s youngest daughter.  She’s thirty and cute as button.  You two would have the most beautiful babies.”

 

What came out of Benton Fraser sounded something like, “wh-wh-wh-mmh.”  He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

 

“And I wouldn’t let this fire get you down.   Something good will come out this. It did for my family.”

 

“Your house burned, too?”

 

“Si.  During the war, my father spoke out against Mussolini and many members in the government.  As a physician, he was well known and highly respected.  People listened to his opinion. He was making too much noise about the war and certain people, and one night, the house was firebombed.  My father placed a call to his brother, already in Chicago. We fled to America in the middle of the night.  I was only a baby, so I don’t remember first-hand, naturally, but I heard my father tell this story many, many times.  We fled Salerno only two months before the Allied Invasion, on my third birthday. Two of my uncles were killed in the fighting.”

 

The two ate their meal and talked a little more.  Sophia drew from Benton more childhood memories and one Inuit tale.  She thought that they were all tinged with lonliness and regret. 

 

 She told him about growing up in such a happy house with her three older sisters, Paola, Marie-Therese, and Giuseppina. And her oldest sister Paola’s sad death from polio in the winter of 1952, and how she imagined for years afterward that sometimes Paola called to her while she slept in the night, leaving her feeling as though she were just on the other side of a door, waiting patiently to reunite with her sisters.

 

 She talked about meeting Sal Vecchio at her cousin’s wedding in Gary, Indiana.  And how one year later, they themselves got married in that same church.  The young Vecchios lived in Valparaiso for several years, where her boys were born. By the time Maria came along, Sal had moved the family to Chicago for better opportunities.  Sophia was glad to be back, as she missed her sisters.  The house two doors down from Marie-Therese was for sale, and Sal declared he would buy it for his bride, before they even had a chance to view the inside and discover how beautiful it was.  And Giuseppina lived with her husband nearby as well, close to Arrigo Park.  The three sisters would bring their families together every Sunday for a supper that started early in the afternoon and often went late into the evenings.

 

Benito talked about joining the police force the day after graduating high school, and how his papa told him that he was so proud of him.  He talked about some of the places he had been stationed, all places with funny names like Moose Jaw, Flin Flon, and Porcupine Plain.

 

Their coffees had started to cool when Sophia finally noticed the time.  She needed to get dressed.  She stood with her hands on her hips for a moment, contemplating the reserved young man.  She wanted to keep him talking. 

 

  “I’m afraid now that I’ll be late to the early mass, even if I hurry.  It’s a nice day to walk to the church, I think.  Will you come to the late mass with me?”

 

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be adept.”

 

“I would like you to come.  I want to offer a special prayer of thanks to God that you also were not taken in that awful fire. Oh! Dio Mio! That poor man.”

 

Benton had learned late last night that Mr. Mustafi was the sole person to perish in the fire.

 

Sophia crossed herself. “God sent his archangel Michael to watch over you and my son. Please.” 

 

“I shall be honored to accompany you, Mrs. Vecchio.”

 

“You can call me Mother, or Mother Vecchio, if you like, Benton.  ‘Mrs. Vecchio’ will no longer do.”

 

Ben Fraser blushed a deep red. “Alright, Mother Vecchio.”

 

She stood over the seated man.  “I’ll teach you the proper responses for the mass, but first, we’ll learn the ‘Hail Mary.”  She picked up his right hand, and drew it to his forehead, his chest, his left shoulder, and his right, just as she had with Raymond, Paul, Maria, and Francesca when they were barely toddling.  “It begins  ‘Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.  Blessed are thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.’ And the reply is, ‘Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and in the hour of our death, Amen.’ Can you do that with me?”

 

Together, mother and son softly said three Hail Marys over lukewarm coffee in the tranquility of a warm, sunny kitchen, as the morning sun rose high in the east.