The Italian Prisoner by Elisa M. Speranza

Author:Elisa M. Speranza
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

On the bus ride to Jackson Barracks, Marie chatted with Dorothy Messina across the aisle, leaving Rose alone with her thoughts. The letter she’d received from her sister two days before drifted through her mind. Laura engaged. Rose wondered how her parents would react, even if she needed to keep the news to herself for now. It had been two weeks since Paris was liberated—for a few days people were so joyful, saying things like, “There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” In her own house, though, Rose continued to feel smothered by the heavy curtain of grief hanging between her parents.

They found Sal and Vincenzo playing on the bocce court the prisoners had made. They waved Rose and Marie over. The weather had cooled off a little, so now it was bearable to sit outside. They sat in folding chairs in the shade of a big magnolia tree next to a small table with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses on it. The barracks didn’t feel much like a prison camp anymore, though the men still couldn’t leave without permission.

“Buongiorno! We’ll be right there—almost done,” Sal called to them. He was wearing a sleeveless white T-shirt. Rose had never seen him without his uniform. She stared at his arms—so muscled and tan as he tossed the bocce ball.

“That looks like fun. Maybe we can try it?” Marie shouted.

“It’s a man’s game, Marie,” Vincenzo said. “We wouldn’t want you to get your pretty dress dirty. I’ll be over as soon as we finish beating these guys.”

Sal gave his ball to another prisoner. “That’s enough for me. I don’t want to be that far from my Rose,” he said. He sat down next to her and kissed her hand. “We made lemonade from the lemon trees here—just like on my farm back home.” Sal poured glasses for them. Rose thought about that first time she had poured lemonade for him, how his arm had brushed against hers. She could not have imagined this day. She looked at him and blushed.

“What are you grinning at?” Sal asked.

“Nothing,” Rose said.

“Mysterioso,” he laughed. “Let’s take a walk. Do you mind, Marie?”

“No, I’m fine here watching Vinny play. You go ahead.” Marie winked at Rose.

Sal took Rose’s hand and they walked down a small path in front of rows of white-washed cabins. Laundry flapped on improvised clotheslines hooked to the small stoops. Rose was excited, but a little nervous—it was her first time alone with Sal. She felt his strong arm around her shoulders. He asked about her family, how things were going at work. He always seemed genuinely interested, not just making conversation. She prattled on a bit but didn’t dare talk about details. Loose lips sink ships rang in her head when she talked about her work to anyone, let alone Sal.

“Are you OK listening to all this?” she asked. “I know you were on the other side.”

Sal shook his head. “Italy was on the wrong side. Now that I’m here and learning more about America, I feel foolish that we ever thought we could win this war.

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