Bread and Roses, Too

"Hell's bells. You can keep your blessed eyes shut. Just come in. I'll get back in bed if it will make you feel better. I got to talk to you."

She closed her eyes until he was safely under the covers and then came in and stood as close to the door as possible.

"Over here. You think I want to yell?"

She took a step in his direction.

"I can't go to school," he said in a loud whisper.

"You got to. Mr. Broggi promised our parents that we'd go to school while we were in Barre."

"Rosa, I can't even write my name. What are they going to think?"

She obviously hadn't thought about that. "Not even your real name?"

He shook his head. "I never hardly went to school."

"Oh, dear."

"You got to think of something. You know I can't go."

"I've got to think of something? Goodness sakes, Sal, why is it always me that has to think of things?"

"Come on, Rosa, they like you better than they like me. They'll listen to you."

"Are you saying I'm a better liar than you?" She turned to go. "Well, the saints forgive me, I've sure had plenty of practice since I met you." She stomped out, closing the door none too gently behind her.

He could hear the murmur of their voices as she spoke with Mrs. Gerbati. He was tempted to get out of bed and put his ear to the keyhole, but he was afraid of being caught. It might have just been a few minutes but it seemed hours before there was another knock on his door.

"Yeah?"

"Get dressed," Rosa said.

"I can't go—"

"You're not going to school." She opened the door a crack and stuck her head in. "Mrs. Gerbati talked Mr. Gerbati into taking you to work with him."

"What?"

"Well, you told me to think of something."

"I didn't tell you to think of that!" His whisper was hoarse with anger. The old man hated his guts.

Rossi and Gerbati

Well, what could he do? He couldn't stay in bed forever. He got up and put on his new clothes, including the double pair of stockings. Or should he have put on his own clothes? After all, he was going to work with the old man. But it was too late to change. He opened the door and walked into the kitchen. The others were already at the table eating.

"Sit down, Salvatore. Eat up good." Mrs. Gerbati was smiling all over her round face, but Mr. Gerbati was bent over his coffee cup, slurping noisily. He didn't even glance in Jake's direction.

Jake sat down at the empty place. Coffee, black as midnight, was steaming in a mug. There was fresh bread and thick slices of salami on the plate. He might as well eat. He hadn't finished when Mr. Gerbati pushed back his chair and stood up. Jake saw he had on a suit, a shirt, and a ribbon tie. He didn't look like a worker. He looked like Joe Ettor, going out to lead a union rally.

"Mr. Gerbati need to go to shed now, Salvatore. I wrap up your bread, yes?" She got up and took Jake's plate to the counter by the stove. "Put your big coat on. It's cold today."

He got his coat and cap. Mrs. Gerbati handed him his bread, neatly folded up in a napkin. "Put in pocket for later." Then she said something in Italian to Mr. Gerbati, who nodded curtly. Jake looked at Rosa to translate, but she didn't.

"You behave now," she said under her breath. "I told them you wanted to be an apprentice."

He looked at her in disbelief.