Wild Roses (28 page)

I looked. He was right. His face was soft,
relaxed. "Oh, God, Ian. You're happy." "Happy--I'm ecstatic. Worried as hell,
but ecstatic." "I'm so glad. I am so, so glad."

"I didn't have to make the choice. The choice
was made for me," he said.

"What's going to happen?" I asked.

"I don't know. Financially . . . God, Cassie,
things are such a mess. My mom's a wreck. I feel awful about it. But there's
this piece of me in here. It's flying."

"You're free."

"God, I'm free," he said.

249

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three days. Two.

One day and a bad nights sleep. A restless,
tense household, my mother making tea at 3:00 a.m. Dino playing in his office at
4:00 a.m. The toilet flushing, doors opened and closed. Me turning my pillow
endlessly to the cool side.

And then, the day of the concert.

It's funny about those monumental events that
you wait and wait for, the ones that have the big buildup of a rocket launch.
There's all the drama and the trauma and then the actual day comes in, soft as
any other day, just appearing the way all of the other ones appear. Friday
morning, the sun came up the same way it had for a zillion years. I tried to
summon some feeling of importance, gather up a sense of the monumental, but
instead I just felt cranky and overtired, got up, and went into the bathroom and
checked my

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face for disaster, as I did every day. When I
left for school, Dino was still in bed, and the only sign of an important night
was catching Mom downing Maalox in the bathroom, and the newspaper on the
kitchen table folded to the article cavalli to perform first new music in six
years.

The big thing that happened at school on Friday
was that Mr. Robelard, the science teacher, caught on fire during an experiment
in his second-period sophomore Life Science class. I was sitting in English
class then, listening to Orlando, the gay guy from last trimester's World
History class, recite his poetry about love. He flung his arms out dramatically,
and everyone rolled their eyes when he described the female object of his
desire. Yeah, right. Her lips were pouting and red, he panted embarrassingly
just as the door shot open and this sophomore girl ran in yelling, "The
teacher's on fire! The teacher's on fire!" Some kid in the back of the class
actually laughed until we saw Mr. Robelard run past, the back of his coat in
flames. Apparently some alcohol they were using for an experiment got too close
to a Bunsen burner, and poof. I wondered how this was going to affect his elk
calls.

My own day may have seemed regularly irregular,
but the outside music world was greeting it with anticipation. I got my first
sense of this at lunch, when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find Mr.
King, the orchestra teacher, standing behind me with bright eyes.

"I just wanted to pass on my best wishes for
this evening and my sincerest congratulations," he whispered. And then off he
scurried, as if the performance had

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already begun and he was politely leaving the
concert hall to use the men's room.

Siang was treating me in that delicate fashion,
too, telling me after school that she would not be coming over today, as it
seemed best. Some kid with a violin case slipped me a note: lama great admirer
of yours, apparently missing the point that the only thing I could do with a
violin was make it into a decorative planter.

After school, I started to get a weird bout of
nerves. My stomach was rolling and pitching, and I understood Mom's Maalox. I
decided I needed something to calm me down. A huge sugar hit, some Twinkies or
something. I got a ride from Zebe and she dropped me off at the Front Street
Market in town. She took her neon yellow rabbit's foot off of her key chain and
insisted I keep it with me for good luck tonight, even though it was
creepy.

"People have had them for hundreds of years,"
Zebe said. "So they've got to be good for something."

"Not for the rabbit," I told her.

I perused the Hostess aisle happily, enjoying
all of the beautiful possibilities. Momentarily, all would be joy. I was in the
checkout aisle, purchasing more items than I care to tell about, when I heard
some familiar voices over by that big ice compartment in the front of the store
that you never see anyone near. You get to wondering if a dead body could be
stored there, for all anyone ever opens it.

"Hey, Bunny! Chuck!" I said. I was glad to see
them. We were bonded by our wonderful and terrible day together. Bonded by our
love for Ian Waters.

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"Look, I bought happiness," I said, and showed
them what was in my bag.

"Whoa," Chuck said. "You won the chocolate
lottery."

"Not all chocolate. Fruit pies, too," I
said.

"We're just here for ice," Bunny said
unnecessarily. The door was open, and big whiffs of white air were escaping the
chest. If he stood there any longer, he'd start looking like that abominable
snowguy in that geeky Christmas cartoon with the carpenter elf and the Land of
the Misfit Toys. "My back is still hurting from that fall I took. You remember
that fall I took."

"Vaguely," I said.

"He's sprained his lumbodorsal fascia, but he
doesn't believe me," Chuck said.

"Ice, and deep-tissue massage," Bunny
said.

"Maybe a chiropractor," Chuck said.

"Hey, get off my back, ha ha," Bunny
said.

"After the fiftieth time it's not funny
anymore, Bun."

"I'm sorry you're still not feeling well," I
said. "Would a couple of Ho Hos help things?"

"Waaay better than a chiropractor," Bunny
said.

I shuffled around my loot, found the Ho Hos,
and opened the package with my teeth.

"I guess you heard Ian's good news," Chuck
said.

"That he's quitting," I said through the
plastic. At ee's kidding.

"Quitting? No, that he got in," Chuck
said.

I'd heard wrong, I guessed. I must have heard
wrong.

"What do you mean, got in?"

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"Maybe she hadn't heard yet. Shit," Bunny said.
"God damn it, Chuck. You and your big mouth."

"What do you mean?" A sick feeling started in
my stomach, some horrible dread. My face flushed red.

"He got in," Bunny said. "Curtis."

"How is that possible?" My voice sounded
hoarse. I wanted to scream, and my voice sounded like I already had. "No! That's
not possible! How is that possible?"

"Mr. Cavalli. He had a tape. He'd taped Ian
before he broke his wrist. Cavalli sent it in. Talked to the school and arranged
for the tape to be used as an audition."

"No," I whispered. "No."

"I thought maybe he should have asked Janet
before he did that, but she's obviously beside herself with happiness," Bunny
said.

"What about Ian?"

"I haven't seen Ian," Bunny said.

"No one asked Ian."

"Janet said he was happy. I don't know if this
is the best thing for him or not," Bunny said. "All I know is, he's in. He's
going to Curtis."

"I've got to go," I said.

"Hey, Cassie. I'm sorry if I said anything
before Ian told you himself. I didn't know." "I've got to go," I
said.

I dropped the Hostess loot there on the floor
and I got the hell out of there. I ran home. I ran so fast. Fury gave me this
speed I didn't know I had. I wasn't myself. I didn't know who I was, but I
wasn't me. Dino had taken Ian's life

254

from him. No wonder he'd lost his outrage about
Ian's arm. He'd already taken matters into his own hands. Well, now I would take
them into mine.

I flung open the front door, slammed it behind
me. How was that for turning the knob so it closed more quietly?

"Cassie?" Mom appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"I'm glad you're home. We need to eat something before we go. God, what's
wrong?"

"Where's Dino?"

"He's getting into his tux. You've got to hurry
up and get dressed."

I ignored her, went upstairs.

"Knock, knock," I said to the closed bedroom
door. I was trying not to shout. I was doing everything I could to keep those
shouts inside. My heart was beating furiously. I was hot all over, from the
running, from the anger.

"What is it?" Dino said. He opened the door. He
stood there in the doorway in his tux, his tie loose.

"What did you do?" I breathed.

"I cannot handle your dramatics now. I've got
to get ready," he said.

My mother arrived at the top of the stairs.
"Cassie, come with me to your room," she said. "We'll handle whatever needs
handling."

"Why did you do that? Why did you send that
tape of Ian to Curtis?"

"So that's what the upset is this time. Always
the boy, the boy, the boy. I saved his ass," Dino said. "Daniella, really. Would
you kindly remove your daughter from our room?"

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"He didn't want to go," I said. "He didn't want
that."

"It's not always about what we want," Dino
said. "If I had what I wanted, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'd be
in New York at this moment, preparing to go to Lincoln Center instead of
Benaroya Hall. And do you know why I am not in New York preparing to go to
Lincoln Center?"

"Dino, that's not fair," my mother
said.

"Because I married your mother, and your mother
has you to think about."

"Dino. Stop," Mom said. "Come on, guys. We've
got a big night ahead, and ..."

"You," I breathed. "Are a horrible person. And
a liar."

"You're wasting my time," Dino said.

"All of the stories about Italy and Sabbotino
Grappa. Who are you, really?" I let the bomb drop from my hands. I let it slip
to the floor, where it lay, ticking.

Everyone was silent for a moment. I could hear
Dino breathing heavily.

"Because if you're really Dino Cavalli, your
history is a lie. No perfect house and mother in a feathered hat. No lemon
trees. Maybe not even any bicycles."

"Get her out of here, Daniella. I have a
performance to prepare for."

"Cassie. Your room. Now."

"He's not who he says. What, did you pay those
people to hide what you really are?"

He turned away from me. I couldn't see his
face, which had become so hideous to me. If I could have seen his face, it
probably would have been fallen and pale, I

256

know now. Drained of cover and laid bare, just
a human.

My mother took hold of my arm, led me out.
"Cassie, what are you thinking? Do you know what you're doing?
Jesus."

"There are things you don't know."

She closed my door with no small amount of
anger. Her face was tight and her eyes flashed.

"I do know."

"No, you don't. Dino wasn't born in Sabbotino
Grappa. All of those stories were made up. He never even lived there. What do
you think of him now? You never even knew him. It's all a lie."

"I know that."

"What?" I sat down on the edge of my bed. My
anger drained from me. Without it, I was suddenly exhausted. "What?" I wanted to
cry. I was too tired for that, even.

"I know that. You're right. None of it was
true. He made up the story when he was sixteen years old to cover the truth, and
he's stuck with it ever since."

"That's crazy. That's absolutely wacko. You
knew this? Just one more nutso thing. I cannot believe this."

"He was doing his first interview, and found
the town in a book. He chose it because it wasn't a place likely to be visited,
and too small to bump into anyone from there. He held a magnifying glass to the
picture of the town square, the church, studied the tiny map. The rest ... he
just made up the rest."

"And all those people go along? Like you go
along? I just don't understand."

"When Edward Reynolds did the oral history,
William

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Tiero went to Sabbotino Grappa. He talked to
the priest, who then spoke to the handful of villagers. They'd already read
about themselves by then in a couple of articles. They thought they were famous.
Most didn't need to be talked into anything. They didn't even have to be paid.
They loved being part of things. They loved having this bit of excitement. It
made them happy. Some of the old people--they started to believe they really did
remember Dino Cavalli and his family living in the big house on Via
D'Oro."

"I'm sorry, but that's fucking creepy. They all
go along like they're in some kind of trance? Come on."

"It's not about a trance. It's a small village.
It was fun for them, a thrill. They loved it. Some heard the stories so many
times, they forgot what the truth was. This is not about creepy. This is about
filling a boring life with something more interesting."