Even as a child I would begmammato let me wear it after she showed it to Anna and me the first time. Anna thought it looked old. I thought it had charm that most dresses these days did not.
It was vintage and had belonged to mynonnaEvangelina. It was classic, elegant, and romantic—it was timeless. A dress that could have been worn years ago or in modern time.
Anna said that if the wedding dresses of Grace Kelly and Apollonia Vitelli—fromThe Godfather—had a child, it would benonnaEvangelina’s.
“I take it back,” Anna said, appraising me through the mirror in our parents’casaaftermammahelped me into it. This was the first time I had seen myself all day. It was bad luck for the bride to look in a mirror before she put her gown on. “I have a better description. If old-world Roman Catholic had a mood, it would be this dress.”
The entire gown was made of fine French lace, even the bodice and long sleeves, and it barely swept the floor, especially with the heels I wore.
Anna softly ran her hands through each side of my hair, which we had parted down the center, making sure it wasperfettobeforemammaset the matching scallop veil on my head. The tulle was made in Italy, but the lace matched the dress.Mammapinned it on in such a way that it looked like it was made to be there. The beauty of it cascaded over my shoulders and ran along the floor. It was longer than the gown.
Anna smiled at me before she put her hands over her mouth. “The dress did not fit me,” she said, shaking her head some, “but it isperfettofor you, Alcina. You look ethereal.” She turned and looked atmamma, moving her hands away from her face dramatically. “Alcina!” she screamed. “Alcina!”
I laughed at how ridiculous she was being, but it was true. Corrado told me I did not have to hide any longer, that we would be getting married in the daylight for everyone to see, and here we were—about to take the walk to church without fear.
“Alcina!”Mammasmiled at me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. She ran her hands over my veil, right above it, not touching me. She wanted to, but it did not seem as if she wanted to mess up what she had done. “La mia bambina.”My baby girl.
She kissed her palms and then put them to each side of my cheeks. I closed my eyes, relaxing into her touch, and then a tear slipped when she kissed my forehead.
“You are not only effortless beauty, Alcina,” she whispered. “You are bold strength. Remember that, ah?”
“I will remember,” I whispered.
“Bene.” She kissed me again, letting her lips linger. “Because that man is going to try your patience, your devotion, your love.”
I opened my eyes to meet her serious ones.
“They all do,bambina mia.In their own ways,capisci?Your man has a mind of his own. A strong mind. That is good. Once he wants something, or not, it does not change.” She shrugged. “He wants you. And right now…this is all soromanticismo.As it should be. The villain has turned into the hero. Your knight in shining armor. But where there is light, there is always dark, ah? We have to learn how to balance both. We must be determined to love even when the romance fades.”
“Si, mamma.”I nodded.
Anna sighed. “If he does not treat you right—”
We all looked at each other and then made a cutting motion with our fingers, asnip, snipnoise with our mouths.
Mammapulled us both in, careful of my veil, as we laughed, and told us as long as her blood pumped through our veins, she knew we would be all right.
* * *
The warmthof the sun poured over my face as I kept it turned up to the sky.
As a girl, I had dreamed of roses and candlelight on this day. But as a woman, I wanted moonflowers and the sun.
Papàtook my left hand and kissed my ring finger.The ring, which reminded me of a halo, dazzled as fiercely as the Mediterranean Sea. “I have never seen flowers like that before,” he said.
I opened my eyes and looked down. Moonflowers. Corrado had sent over the bouquet, my rosary wrapped around the lace-covered stems. “They are night blooming.” I grinned.
Papàsighed and turned his face forward. When he had seen me for the first time earlier, he had cried. It did not seem like he wanted to cry again.
“Papà,” I said. “I am going to be okay.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes forward. “As long as he remembers what it means to sing.”
“You brought him to his knees,” I whispered.
“Amore,”Papàcorrected me.“Amorebrought him to his knees, so to speak.” He cleared his throat. “My blessing was his then.”
Anna stood ahead of us on the steps. She turned around and nodded at us before she walked into the church. A minute or two after,papàand I followed.
