“I, Matteu, take you, Alessandra”—Matteu sighed with galaxies in his eyes—“to be my wife. I vow to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. You,” he broke, “are the light of my life. I will love and honor you all the days of my life. I love you, my dear Sandra.”

“I love you too. And I, Alessandra, take you, Matteau, to be my husband. I’m sorry”—no apologies now; he would not accept it—“No. I vow to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I vow to be as good a wife as I can be for you. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”

“May Jieu strengthen the consent you have declared before the assembly. What Jieu hath joined together, let no one put asunder. Bless the name of Jieu.”

“Thanks be to Jieu,” the assembly said. The ceremony proceeded from the altar to the reception dinner, and we found ourselves each with a cocktail in hand. I managed to pull myself away from dear Matteu, and began making the rounds to greet my second and third and fourth cousins. It didn’t matter that they had not seen me since I was a little girl, or perhaps that they hadn’t even met me at all. They came to my wedding, just as I also had or will come to theirs, because such an occasion demands such an audience: their presence here guarantees my presence there. In white, I reflect their shiny dreams and wishes, just as once they had reflected mine. In black, however, one woman sucked the color out of the scene. It was something of a habit like a holy sister would wear, except only unruly hair covered her head. I knew her—but had I invited her? Her black eyes pierced mine and, as if lifted by the wind, she floated towards me. “Do you remember me?” Her lips smiled. Her brows furrowed.

“Of course I remember you. It’s been so long.”

“I know.”

“How have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“I never left San Martu.”

“Really? My fiancé—no, husband; I need to get used to that—just inherited my Nonnu’s farm.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. That’s nice, though.”

“You should come visit. But, no, I’m sorry. What about you? Have you found someone yet?”

“I never found my prince, Sandra. I never found anyone besides you.”

“What? You must be drunk. Let’s get you some water.”

“No. Sandra. I want you to listen and understand. I never left San Martu. And you never came back.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered, hoping she would too.

“Your husband and I make two—only, you remember my cunt, but not my name.”

“That’s not true. We were little girls.”

“What’s my name? Tell me you remember.”

“I remember. I remember.”

“No, Sandra, you don’t remember.”

“Please stay. Tell me. Tell me about you. Tell me about your life.”

“What life is one spent waiting for another who doesn’t even remember you?”

“Not here. Please, don’t get angry at me.”

“Goodbye, Sandra, and congratulations. I wish you a happy marriage.”

The floor opened beneath me, and I woke up in bed. I slept through the light shining between the blinds. I remember her. Fuck. I remember her. But who was she? I sat up and hugged my knees, eyes crusted over. Does she still live here? Did she ever leave? What became of her? Who was she? I rubbed my forehead and brushed my fingers through my hair. I sat in bed until I returned to reality. I didn’t have chores that morning and, not wanting to rot, thought I might as well stop by Adrianna’s house. That poor cat. I put on my apron and tucked Bella’s rosary into my pocket. My dearest Matteu was probably out in the fields. I didn’t worry. He could probably take care of himself, and I’d see him at lunch.

“We were sorry to have missed you last night.” Adrianna brewed us each a cup.

“I am too. Really.” Was my company expected? Underneath the table I counted rosary beads one by one, faster and faster. I didn’t want to accuse my hostess of lynching a cat, but contemplating the mystery only drove me deeper into anxiety. Bella’s pointy-eared silhouette in the sunset. Faster. Her little body dangling from a tree. Faster. Her restful, whiskery face between folds of cloth. Faster.

My mind from outside itself wondered why it was so affected. It was a cat. But she was violently killed, not having been torn apart with teeth and claws, but in the way a human being kills another. And to be seen. Jieu forbid the thought that this was a message addressed to me or my husband or our presence in this town. How hysterical could I be with a womb like mine? Maybe it was sleepwalking.

“Elena stopped by our home yesterday looking for a cat. I didn’t find the cat, but I found a rosary on our grounds. She said it wore one round its neck.”

“Ah. I wondered what’d happened to it.” She sipped her chicory-coffee. “I didn’t much like the idea of having to clean up after it, but it made Elena truly happy. I was going to let her keep it.”

“Really? She made me swear to keep it a secret that she had it, especially since then she’d lost it.”

“I didn’t let it out, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Yeah, no. That’s too bad, then. I do hope she finds it.”

“Me too. Poor bambina. Are you and Matteu trying for kids?”

“Mm.” I sipped my cup. “We’re infertile.”

“Oh. The farmer’s seed isn’t enough for you?”

“No. We’re quite certain that the problem’s with the soil.”

“I’m very sorry, Alessandra.”

“Thank you. It’s okay. Unless you know who made off with my eggs.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. Same as with you and the cat.”

That didn’t bode well. We exchanged typical friendly café date niceties, if from the comfort of her home. I passed along the cat’s rosary in hopes that little Elena would find comfort in it. Then I went home and it occurred to me that of all the working-men I saw going about their day, not one woman was amongst them. And their eyes. You would’ve thought I was a partisan. Were all us townswomen supposed to be cooped up inside except perhaps to go to church? Lesson learned. I still remembered running around as a little girl all around the town and the outskirts. There wasn’t anywhere she and I weren’t allowed, and there were surely adult women out and about with us children.

But her name.

What was her name?

I dug around my apron pocket for the rosary. By the time I realized I’d forgotten I’d given it up already, the front door of Nonnu’s house—Matteu’s—mine—stood in my way. Voices echoed from inside. Wouldn’t I finally get some peace in my own home? But, it wasn’t my home. I swallowed the air and opened the door to find my husband hosting two other men at the table.

“Buenasera, Siñora.”

“Buenasera.”

“Sandra! I’m glad you’re here. Could you fix something quickly for us, please?”

“Matteau, what’s going on?”

“I found them! They’ve been in town all this time.”

“Well, are they moving in with us?”

“Maybe on the property one day but, no, I just offered Siñor Roccu a wage to help us out here.”

“With what money?”

“We’ll see fruit come harvest. Twice the hands do three times the work.”

There were perhaps two sets of hands, but altogether three mouths at the table: Matteu, Siñor Roccu, and an older man. Must have been Roccu’s father. Were neither of their wives around? I guess men’s business is not our concern unless they’re sitting in one’s own house. Maybe this used to be her house many years ago, or that of her mother, but that would be one less reason to turn up here. I plated some toasted bread, cheese, and prosciutto for the men to enjoy and excused myself from the parlor. One man was enough around here. But I wasn’t left to myself for too long. Elena stopped by again, with a furry friend.

“Siñora, Siñora.”

“What do you have there, bambina?”

“Bella. I found her.” She held up the cat by its shoulders. No different than the cat from before with its black fur and white tummy, with that same crucifix dangling on its neck. The cat yowled, more than a little upset at being carried and babied around.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bella.”

“Thank you so, so, so much for finding her cross. When you gave it back to Mama and then she gave it back to me, I found Bella again.”

“I’m so glad to hear.” She must have found another similar-looking cat. I was happy for her, if confused. But she didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know any of it.

“Mama wanted me to ask you, Siñora, are you going to the miseries tonight?”

“Ah. The mysteries. I haven’t been in a while.”

“Are you initiated, Siñora?”

“I don’t know anyone who isn’t initiated.”

“Mama says I was initiated when I was a baby. I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay. I don’t remember mine either.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I don’t know. I think that’s one of the mysteries.”

“Huh. Okay. Good-bye, Siñora.”

“Good-bye, bambina. Take care of your cat.”

Elena went away, cradling Bella II in her sleeves. I’d already missed the women’s league the night prior. What sort of self-estranged pariah would I be to miss the mysteries? It’s not that I’m particularly devout, much less superstitious—I am a modern woman after all—but as such I do value some degree of rootedness and self-discipline. Yet insofar as religion allows one to transcend their crude being, it also prevents them from seeing what’s in front of them. What’s the golden mean of spiritual and material ignorance? I figured until the liberals, traditionalists, communists, and fascists had spilled enough blood to arrive at the answer, it wasn’t my problem. Why not stretch my spiritual wings in the meantime? It would have made Nonnu happy to see me in my Sunday best, contemplatin...

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