No one went swimming near the octopus guts for the rest of the afternoon. By the next day they were gone; I checked. Two days later I saw them lying at the bottom on the sand by the end of the pier and little fish were pulling them around as they swarmed over them and took tiny bites. But they never touched the big yellow sack sort of thing.

When the Banini had finished cleaning the octopus, he turned it right side in again and dropped it in a bucket and handed it back to me. I looked at him, and he understood my look to be a question and pointed to his mouth and said, “Mangiare!” Then he smiled and patted my cheek and pinched it to show he was proud that I had killed something I could eat. So I nodded and smiled and patted my stomach and said, “Si buono!” to show I had eaten dozens of octopuses and loved them. Then I couldn’t get out of it, so I marched up to the pensione kitchen and handed the bucket to Lucrezia and her mother, who pulled the octopus out and said, “Che bello pulpo!” Which meant, what a beautiful octopus! And I said, “Si,” and they said “Bravo!” but I was thinking I should have left it alone.

That night, while the rest of the family had charcoal-grilled veal chops, which were my favorite Italian food and which were only served once each year when we were staying at the Pensione Biea and which Mom never made for us at home because we were missionaries and the Lord provided for our needs but not that well, I got a huge serving platter full of deep-fried octopus pieces.

Rachael said, “You must be kidding!” when I asked her if she’d like a few, hoping she’d say yes, and would I like some of her veal chop.

Janet said, “It makes me sick just to see it again.”

Mom said, “No thank you, dear.”

Dad never ate deep-fat-fried food since he got his ulcer and since God had not healed him because these trials of the flesh are to test our love of the Lord, like the Apostle Paul with his thorn in the flesh.

So between Dad’s spiritual warfare and my sisters being cowards I got stuck trying to eat this huge pile of octopus. And I tried not to remember what it looked like when the Banini had its guts hanging in one hand while he cut it with his knife and still had a little juicy mark on his chin from where he had pressed his face against its head when he bit off its nerve bump and killed it.