“And you didn’t want to walk.” Leo smirked, taking the front seat, Gia and Tommy the back. Leather burned the back of her legs. The car sweltered, even with the windows down, and then air rushed as Ray burned a cloud of smoke, weaving through cars. Gia gripped the door handle, and Tommy bounced into her; she counted down to home as everything rushed past. Ray turned the radio all the way up, so loud it jumbled words. Hair whipped her face, lashed her eyes. Tommy punched at the roof and yelled for Ray to go faster as Gia prayed to slow down.
At New Park, Ray slammed the car to a stop. “Under fifteen, hop out.”
Gia hopped out gladly. The sidewalk was gloriously still under her feet. But Tommy simmered.
“What the hell?”
Ray didn’t even turn around, just gave Tommy eyes in the rearview mirror, waiting him out until he gave up and slammed the door.
“We could swim,” Gia suggested. They used to like diving for stuff in the canal. Popsicle sticks. Horseshoes. Holding their breath underwater. Racing from dock to dock. But Tommy stared after Ray’s beat-up Hornet like he’d passed up a date with Jane Fonda. Was she missing something? Leo’s hand was out the window as Gia’s had been on the bike, wind blowing through his fingers, catching the end of a summer that fall would soon forget, as they sped off through timid cars and broken traffic lights until they were gone.
Gia rounded up flashlights, candles, batteries, and torches from the garage. The house sweltered. Her mother lit the barbecue and grilled all the meat in the freezer so it wouldn’t go bad. They ate hamburgers without buns and hot dogs on forks before the sun set behind the canal, and then they went swimming. Even Agnes waded out to her knees and splashed water over her shoulders. The hermit crabs brushed past their feet with fuzzy shells. Gia splashed and flipped in the water, spitting it from her lips and shaking it from her ears. There were mosquitoes and fireflies, but no one minded. They walked back without towels, the lingering water keeping them cool. Firecrackers popped in the distance. Dying coals threw off smoke behind them as a praying mantis watched them from the peony bush, still as a leaf, one leg poised in midair. She would watch it tonight in case it was mating and the female would bite the male’s head off. If the moon was bright enough, she wouldn’t need a flashlight.
“Can I sleep outside?”
“Yes,” her mother said, damp curls coiling on either side of her face, staring into the setting sun. It surprised Gia to see her mother enjoying this night without chores or TV, eating an unbalanced meal. “Only if your brother does too.”
Gia sighed. Of course. Mentioning Leo reminded Agnes that he was not there, zeroing her attention in on him again. The dreamy look fell away with it.
“Is he job searching?” She lit a cigarette with the citronella candle on the table. Straightened her shoulders. Ashes scattered in Gia’s direction. A mosquito danced above the flame. Gia felt like she was being dangled above a flame too.
“I think so.” Her heart sensed the lie and picked up speed.
“Where? Your father’s gonna want specifics.”
“Ask him. I don’t know.”
“He should’ve been home by now. Nothing’s open. Maybe he found something and started working right away? That’s what must’ve happened. Good. He’ll take care of that fence. I don’t like looking at it like that. Makes me feel like we’ve done something wrong with it staring at us till it’s fixed.”
Agnes’s mouth closed around the cigarette in a little O. She breathed deeply and tapped it against an ashtray.
Did she really not see? Gia examined the things Agnes tried to hide: her foot grinding a circle in the grass, the way she leaned forward as she waited for someone to contradict her. Part of her knew, or she wouldn’t need a cigarette to calm the unease.
“I hope it’s not a restaurant. They’re all owned by you-know-what. I don’t want him caught up in that.”
She snubbed the cigarette out for emphasis and lit another. Gia thought of the man by the swimming canal and cringed.
“He’s a good kid,” Agnes said to no one. “Just needs a little push.”
A firefly landed on Gia’s hand, spread its wings, closed them again.
“Let’s check on Diane. I worry about her in this heat.” Agnes pushed up from the table as Gia stacked cheeseburgers on top of one another and piled hot dogs, remembering Nonna suddenly. It was the first thing she’d eaten off the boat at Ellis Island, a hot dog.
Tinfoil rattled as they crossed the street. Lorraine was at the door before they knocked, sweaty, her hair combed back into a ponytail.
“Her blood pressure’s high, and she’s not in a good mood,” Lorraine said. Of course, Gia thought. Why would she be, without TV? To Gia, it was horrible, constant chatter, whirling fans, commercial jingles, laugh tracks. But for Diane, it didn’t matter what it was as long as it was on.
“Let me try,” Agnes offered. Lorraine shrugged, and Gia thought it was brave of her mother.
“Hello, hello,” she sang out, at odds with the living room two steps lower than the rest of the first floor, like Aunt Diane had weighed it down until it gave up and sank.
“He’s wild,” Diane said. “It’s dangerous.”
The edge in Aunt Diane’s voice challenged the softness of her body, like Silly Putty wrapped around nails. Gia thought of the boys racing down Cross Bay, burning rubber. Did she mean them?
“What are you talking about?” Agnes forgot to exhale as she settled onto the arm of the couch.
“Did it look directly at you?” Diane’s head pivoted toward Gia, her pointed finger emphasizing each word, and Gia felt stabbed through. “It’ll make you sick.”
Gia froze. She was right. Nonna had always said that if a praying mantis looked directly at you, it would make you sick. Diane had seen that mantis, in her head, same as she’d seen Uncle Lou’s plane fall from the sky, and maybe other things, too, but no one talked about them because they were all spooked after Uncle Lou.
“Right.” Agnes stood, patted Diane’s shoulder while clearing away the most recent bottle, pinching it like a dead bug in a napkin, hiding her disgust with a fake cheery voice. “We’ll come back another day, Diane.”
Lorraine leaned against the doorway, rubbing her forehead.
“You’re welcome to sleep at our house,” Agnes said to Lorraine, and then, quieter, “We should go down to the VA and see if they can write the checks to you instead. She’s getting out of hand.”
“I hear you.” Diane whirled. “There’s nothing wrong with me. The world is falling apart.” Diane made the sign of the cross, gathered her housedress, and settled into a charged silence.
Gia stared at her aunt, who had seen a world war and blacked out the windows when air-raid sirens had rung out, who’d welded metal at the navy yard while the men were away, sparks flying in her face as she’d pieced together machinery. But tonight, in Queens, the world was falling apart. And Gia’s brother had disappeared into it, and her father was out there trying to hold it together.
Lorraine set up a bowl of cool water with a washcloth for her mother, dabbed it over her forehead. She was staying, then, in this hot house with that folded flag on the mantel staring down at them through stars and stripes. It was the saddest family Gia had ever seen: Diane, that flag, and Lorraine. Gia fought the urge to hold her mother’s hand.