Free How I Saved My Father's Life (and Ruined Everything Else) by Ann Hood Page B

“Also Scotch, Irish, and German.”
    He laughed. “A Heinz 57!”
    What a weirdo , I thought. Then I remembered the dead wife and forgave him.
    Neither Antoinetta nor her father wore seat belts. I considered unbuckling mine, too, but I couldn’t bring myself todo it. These people were definitely martyrs, I thought. I was practically giddy. From where I sat I had a perfect view of the father’s head. He was mostly bald on top, with just a few strands of black hair. Still, it looked like he had put on some kind of hair cream to keep that little bit in place, and to make it shiny. He reminded me of Sonny Bono, the same hangdog face. Sonny Bono and his wife, Cher, were famous in the 60s, a husband-and-wife singing team who ended up also getting divorced. Then Sonny Bono skied into a tree and died, but by then Cher had married a bunch of other people and Sonny had a wife and a new kid. My parents had all of Sonny and Cher’s albums. On car trips, they used to sing “I Got You, Babe,” my mother singing Cher’s parts and my father singing Sonny’s. My mother got the albums in the divorce, but she doesn’t play them anymore.
    â€œWasn’t that sad when Sonny Bono died?” I said, because he reminded me of him and also because no one else was saying anything.
    â€œYou go to school with Antoinetta?”
    â€œUh,” I said. “No.”
    â€œI know her from church,” Antoinetta said.
    I watched as we passed the State House, which everyone always got so excited about.
    â€œThird largest unsupported dome in the world,” I said, showing off.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Mr. Calabro said suspiciously.
    â€œYou know, the roof,” I said. “The dome.”
    He squinted at me in the rearview mirror and I squirmed. I decided not to tell him the other two, which were the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C., and, my favorite, Saint Peter’s Cathedral in Rome.
    We were going past the Castle Cinema, the second-run movie theater on Chalkstone Boulevard. I didn’t know anyone who lived in this part of Providence. It was almost like being in another country. We stopped in front of a three-story blue house. Right there, on the front lawn, a statue of the Virgin Mary was standing in what appeared to be an open oyster shell. A shrine! I was elated.
    â€œI love your house,” I said, and meant it.
    Antoinetta’s father looked at me like I was crazy again. Then he went inside.
    â€œSo,” Antoinetta said. Then she just stood there in that purple coat. It had big black buttons and every one looked like it was about to fall off.
    Even though it was almost Easter, there were still some patches of snow in the front yard and when I talked, puffs of air came out. There was a candle lit in the shrine and some artificial flowers in an empty Fresca bottle.
    â€œWhat happened to your mother?” I asked her.
    â€œFemale trouble,” Antoinetta said.
    That sounded really saintly. “Did she have hospice?”
    â€œNah. The doctor wanted her to but my father kept saying she was going to get better. Because of the miracle, you know? San Giovanni Rotundo.”
    I could only nod. Something much larger than me, something divine, had led me to this girl, this house.
    â€œWant to go inside?”
    â€œYes,” I said so eagerly that Antonietta shook her head.
    We walked up three steps into the house, entering a hallway that had lots of boots and coats and umbrellas, two closed doors, and a stairway leading to the second floor.
    â€œWe live up there, but it’s Sunday so we go to my grandmother’s,” Antoinetta said. She put her hand onthe doorknob, then turned to me. “Are you staying for lunch?”
    â€œGreat!” I said. “Thanks.” I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I thought of all the other things I might have been doing today—being forced to read the funnies to Cody or going to