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Pittsburgh (Pa.)--Social life and customs--Fiction, Italian American families--Fiction, Fathers and daughters--Fiction, Italian Americans--Fiction.
publication date
:
1994
lcc
:
PS3563.A469W48 1994eb
ddc
:
813/.54
subject
:
Pittsburgh (Pa.)--Social life and customs--Fiction, Italian American families--Fiction, Fathers and daughters--Fiction, Italian Americans--Fiction.
Page i
Where Love Leaves Us
Page ii
The Iowa Short Fiction Award
Page iii
Where Love Leaves Us
Rene Manfredi
University of Iowa Press Iowa City
Page iv
University of Iowa Press, Iowa City 52242
Copyright 1994 by Rene Manfredi
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.
Printed on acid-free paper
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Manfredi, Rene, 1962 Where love leaves us/Rene Manfredi. p. cm.(The Iowa short fiction award) ISBN 0-87745-444-2 1. Italian American familiesPennsylvaniaPittsburgh Fiction. 2. Fathers and daughtersPennsylvania PittsburghFiction. 3. Italian AmericansPennsylvania PittsburghFiction. 4. Pittsburgh (Pa.)Fiction. I. Title. II. Series. PS3563.A469W48 1994 813'.54dc20 93-28456 CIP
98 97 96 95 94 C 5 4 3 2 1
Page v
For family, here and gone
Page vii
Contents
The Projectionist
1
Bocci
19
Truants
35
Keeping the Beat
52
Ice Music
68
A Kind of April
81
The Mathematics of Pendulums
96
Tall Pittsburgh
113
Where Love Leaves Us
127
Page ix
Acknowledgments
The stories in this collection previously appeared, in a slightly different form, in the following magazines: Black Warrior Review, "The Projectionist" and "Truants"; Iowa Review, "Bocci"; Georgia Review, "Keeping the Beat"; Michigan Quarterly Review, ''Ice Music''; Prairie Schooner, "The Mathematics of Pendulums"; and Mississippi Review, "Where Love Leaves Us." "Bocci" also appeared in Pushcart Prize XVI.
I wish to thank the National Endowment for the Arts and the Research Foundation at Indiana University.
Thanks also to Scott Russell Sanders, Tony Ardizzone, Jack Heffron, and Lisa Dush.
Page 1
The Projectionist
When I was fifteen I learned from my father the danger of love. I already knew about sadness, having watched him sink each year into what my mother termed his "Crazy April," a time each spring when he became quiet and distant and brought out in all of us the kind of caution one uses to navigate the pitch dark of a familiar room. My mother treated this mood of his with the same brisk efficiency that she did everything, made it seem no more mysterious than the bouts of asthma from which my father and I suffered: "Your father is having his April," she'd announce to my sisters and me as though his mood were a phenomenon of nature. I was twelve or thirteen before I realized that the world did not become strange and sad for everybody the way it did for us each spring.
Page 2
My father had been married back in Sicily during the Second World War and his wife-Serafina, after whom I was named-was killed in April of 1945. The Germans had requisitioned the small fishing village near Palermo where my father's family had lived for three generations. After a year of relatively peaceful occupation, three young men tried to organize a resistance. They were considered war criminals and an arrest warrant was issued. They fled, went into hiding, and the men in the village were instructed to find them and bring them back by noon, dead or alive. Every quarter hour past that time, one person, chosen at random, would be executed. The women and children were ordered to gather in front of the courthouse. At twelve-fifteen the Germans executed an old woman. People panicked, were shot down as they ran. My father cautioned his wife not to move from beneath a fig tree no matter what happened. And that was where he found her when he returned, a bullet in her throat. She was eight and a half months pregnant and my father and the midwife delivered the baby, a girl, who lived for two days.
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