armella also slept badly that night. Out of the incoherent thoughts of anger there finally emerged in her mind the firm determination to go to the movies with Nicolo, if his work would ever let him off in the afternoon.
After all, if he was to be an eminent man, then her father was wrong. Never was it wrong to be the friend of an eminent man, nor wrong even to be his wife.
Here, for once, Tommaso was wrong. It was her duty to guide the family in this, as she had in so many other things since she was ten or eleven.
She rolled and tossed. Once the wakeful Maria heard her cry out in her sleep, something that to her Italian ears sounded like “Attaboy, Nick.” But Maria did not waken Tommaso.
In the morning Carmella slept until after her father had gone to work. Without complaint she washed the breakfast dishes, aided by her sisters. Once she cuffed Paola for almost dropping a cup.
“You don’t dare do that to me,” said Raffaela, “because I’ll tell dad.”
[132]
