A rush of blood flooded her whole face at the impudent, immodest thought. How could she say it like that to her brother and sister-in-law?

So she said nothing. And Concetto would pass every evening in the alley, and Angela would close the windows that faced it. Concetto would go to mass at eight o’clock, walking along the main street of Santo Stefano, and Angela went at five, no longer permitting her sister-in-law to go out at all. Concetto wrote three times, and Angela confiscated the three letters, full of humble, ardent words, tearing them to shreds. The battle between Angela and Concetto was silent and fierce.

One evening her brother, after having listened to his wife, who couldn’t tolerate the surveillance any more, ripped into Bobò: he told her that women are all alike, that all they have to do is see a man (any good-for-nothing!) and they lose every bit of self-restraint. Thinking he was doing her a favor, he said brutal, awful things. Bobò listened, almost without breathing, her throat shut tight; she had the feeling of being stripped naked in front of everyone, in front of her brother, who despised her, in front of Michelina, who was smiling….

And so Angela’s job was made a bit easier. Bobò no longer dared to look out the window, no longer dared to go out. She hoped, she never stopped hoping, for a miracle, for love as it happens in novels and fairy tales.

The pharmacist was informed that Bobò did not wish to marry, that she wanted to become a house nun.

And time passed ever so slowly and changed the color of things, like a veil of dust that settles over a forgotten toy. Her hair turned opaque, and her breasts began to fall; her eyes lost their sweet splendor.

Concetto also turned gray and heavy, but he didn’t marry. He didn’t know how to love another woman the way he had loved Bobò.

Now Michelina was getting married. Her aunt had given her the corredo and the yellow coverlet with the red roses, still bright and fresh as her own heart. She’d also signed papers that ceded all her possessions from the Licata house to her niece. She’d given her everything, little by little, and now she was stepping aside for her in life.

“Out of gratitude,” people said.

Out of gratitude, of course…. Her brother had given her a family; Angela had been like an older sister, a little severe, but affectionate….

And Bobò had moved aside to let the bride pass ahead of her in life.

• • •

“What are you still doing in this living room? There’s no time to waste. Get going.”

“I’m coming,” Bobò replied meekly, stirring herself from her thoughts.