“What do you mean?”
“She took a job with the oceanography research center there. It was a good opportunity, and I think, after things ended with Teo, she wanted to get off the island.”
“Things ended?” I could feel the blood coursing through my veins.
“You didn’t hear?”
“No,” I said. “When?”
He closed an eye as if counting backward in his head. “Three months ago, maybe? Right around the new year.”
“Huh,” I said, and he just laughed, because he could see right through me.
132.
I SPENT THE EARLY WEEKSof May thinking about Teo and wondering why he hadn’t told me, when we’d talked in front of Francesca’s apartment, that he and Nina had broken up. All of the obsessing was not a productive use of my time, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had wanted to tell me and that something had stopped him.
Francesca confirmed that Teo and Nina had broken up shortly after Christmas, and that the breakup, while amicable, had been Teo’s idea. There were about a dozen other questions I wanted to ask, but I knew I was already in danger of appearing much too interested in Teo’s love life, so I asked her how things were going with Carmela and her crew, and she told me about a protest in Sassari they’d participated in over the weekend.
Aside from one story Teo reported on CNEN’s ongoing struggle to hire enough licensed crew members for theNereide, he hadn’t been on the island much. Or at least he hadn’t been looking for me. This was just as well, I told myself, since Paul and I would be packing up in a little more than a month, and since Teo and I were not, in fact, in a relationship.
Paul spent the early weeks of May helping to coordinate a “Media Day” on the tender. Picture a big press conference but with the addition of tours of the ship and demonstrations of some of the techniques Radiological Controls used to test for nuclear contamination. The event, which would be jointly hosted by the American embassy and the Sixth Fleet, was part of a larger strategy to respond to the growing unrest in La Maddalena.
Bornemann had been put in charge of the guest list, which included journalists, politicians, scientists, you name it. Much to his surprise, Paul had been put in charge of the program. I assume this was partially because Paul spoke decent Italian and partially because, as the head of RADCON, he’d know what to say to prove—once and for all—that the navy’s Nuclear Propulsion Program was safe.
I had my doubts that this could be so easily proved, but I tried not tovoice them as the event approached. Paul was working long hours, trying to be sure he and the team had planned for every possible contingency, so I let him do his thing and, with the exception of taking a quick peek at a document he left out one morning when he went for a jog, I didn’t pry.
The document, which was markedCONFIDENTIALacross the top, was a list of more than a hundred Italians, mostly men, who lived on the island. The entries were fascinating; they listed each person’s occupation, political allegiance, family connections, English-language skills, and even, in some cases, sexual orientation.
A Signor Sanna, for instance, was listed as:Assessor for Public Works. Ex-PSI. Anti-U.S. Fair English. Not very smart. Homosexual.Father Guglielmo was on the list:Unofficial leader of the DC. Has visited AS-16 and SSNs and held mass on board. Pro-U.S. and considers U.S. Catholic community to be part of his flock. Good English.
I looked for Francesca on the list and wasn’t surprised to find she had earned a place on it.PCI. Rabidly anti-U.S. A screamer about nuclear pollution. Husband was a PCI strongman in his youth. Acts like he speaks little to no English, despite fact that wife is an Italian teacher who speaks excellent English. Daughter works for Paolo Merlo and was witness to the birth of a baby born with cranioschisis.
It was a hard entry to read. Of course it confirmed that Francesca and Bernardo were PCI, but that had never been in serious doubt. What was disconcerting was the insinuation that, as PCI, the Morianis were somehow the enemy. I didn’t think Francesca was “rabidly” anti-U.S., and I didn’t like the accusation that Bernardo was faking his poor English skills. But the worst part about Francesca’s entry was that I suspected some of the information—like the fact that Bianca had been at the birth of the Balzano baby—had come directly from me.
I had a sick feeling as I looked for Teo’s name on the list. I found him easily, and his entry was short.Reporter forLa Spedizione.Leans left. Excellent English. Nephew of Francesca Moriani. Believed to have sources in the American naval community.
I dropped the document, then put it back in exactly the spot I’d found it. Did someone suspect I was a leak? Did Paul? It seemed doubtful, but if the document was proof of anything, it was that I had no idea what was really going on.
133.
IT WAS JENKINS WHO,at the last minute, suggested inviting the officers’ wives to Media Day. The thought was that we would act as hosts, help humanize our husbands, and generally keep things on an even keel.
Laura was not excited about this assignment, which was unusual for her. But she was five or six months pregnant and had recently learned that Bobby’s detachment date was to be pushed back on account of her due date. I guess she needed a doctor’s note for the transatlantic flight, and Callaway wouldn’t give it to her, which left her with no other option than to wait out the rest of her pregnancy in La Maddalena, deliver in Naples, and travel back to the U.S. as a family of three in late September.
We met up at the pier to ride the liberty boat over to the tender together, and on the short ride, she allowed herself to complain—something she hadn’t done much of in the early months of her pregnancy, when she didn’t want anything to jinx it.
“Everything is getting wider,” she said. “My feet, my ass, even my nose.”
“Your nose?” I said. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“It’s got to be,” she argued. “Doesn’t it look swollen to you?”
I studied her nose carefully, but it looked the same as always.
“Right here?” she said, pointing at the bridge.
We still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of it by the time we disembarked at Santo Stefano.
