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ironychan · 3 months

Text

Homecoming

Part One - Arrival

Part Two - Discovery

@writer652 @dysphoria-sweatshirt @careless-whispers

Maria woke up in the middle of the night when she heard the clatter of wood, and sat up sharply, blinking in the dark. Had something fallen over? Was there a stranger in the tower? She couldn't see any familiar shapes in the half-light. Had somebody...

Then she remembered – she was not in the tower. She was in her childhood room, now turned into a nursery for Massimo and Helena's baby. She'd been asleep on the mattress on the floor, and Alberto was in her arms, now awake and whimpering. The window was open, and the sound she'd heard was the wind blowing the shutters against the wall.

Shaking slightly, Maria got to her feet and shut the window, sliding the latch into place with a soft whine of rusty metal. Then she sat down again and gathered Alberto up for a hug, reaching under his shirt to rub his back.

“It's okay,” she soothed. “It's just the wind. We're warm and safe in here. Uncle Massimo and Aunt Helena are going to look after us.” At least, she hoped they would. As long as she managed to keep Alberto's secret.

She lay down again, and Alberto curled up against her. It was nice to be back inside a real building. They'd put up canvas at the tower to keep the worst of the weather out, and Giancarlo had always talked about repairing the wall properly someday. He'd never gotten around to it, though, and stormy nights like this had been terrible.

Maria had to wonder what Giancarlo was doing right now. He'd probably been back to the island, and discovered his wife and son were missing. If he looked, he would find the boat in Portorosso's little harbour. What if he came to the door and showed her up as a liar? What if he revealed his son's transformations in front of everybody? Would Massimo pull one of those harpoons off the wall and run him through? Would he then do the same to Alberto?

She shook her head and stroked her son's curls. Thinking about what if was never productive. She just had to take things as they came. Hopefully she was up to it, for Alberto's sake.

In the morning it was still wet and stormy out. Maria could see the boats in the harbour, riding up and down on the swells, and the leaves on the tree outside were thrashing in the wind. It seemed a luxury to be indoors, even as the walls creaked and the radiator whistled.

“Good morning,” said Helena, appearing at the door with a bundle in her arms. “I brought you some spare clothes... I won't fit back into these until well after the baby arrives.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Maria. She was too tall to borrow clothing from most women, but Helena was almost as tall as she. “You don't have anything that would work for Alberto, do you?”

Helena shook her head. “We've got baby clothes, but nothing big enough for him.”

“I'll make do,” Maria promised.

Helena's dresses were a little tight, but not too much. Maria washed up and dressed, changed Alberto's nappy, and headed downstairs.

She found Helena sitting in the kitchen with her bare feet up, eating some rather damp pastries Massimo had brought back from the baker, and surrounded by sketches. Maria came to see what she'd been drawing, and found a dozen views of Portorosso and the dramatic cliffs and terrace farms that surrounded the town.

“These are lovely,” she said. They made her dull little hometown look like a place from a fairy tale.

“Thank you,” Helena replied. “I got accepted to art school in Firenze, but then I met Massimo, and you know how plans change.”

“Yes, I do,” Maria agreed. Except... she really hadn't had any plans until she'd met Giancarlo. Only vague dreams of doing something with her life besides selling fish in the middle of nowhere. The two of them had then made plans together, how they were going to travel the whole world and see its wonders... but then, yes, things had changed.

"I'd wanted to spend a year in the countryside and paint, anyway,” Helena added. “This is such a beautiful town. There's always something new here. The sun hits the roofs in a different place each day, the sea has a thousand moods, the stars reflect on the water... I could paint this place for a thousand years and never run out of subjects.”

That sounded bizarre to somebody who'd always thought of Portorosso as the most boring place in the world. “Where are you from?” Maria asked, sitting down at the table.

Helena offered her the soggy paper bag with the pastries. “Genova. Not far away, I guess, but it feels like a million miles sometimes. It's so much bigger and busier there, all crowds and noise. Portorosso is so peaceful.”

Dull. Portorosso was dull. Genova had always sounded like a metropolis, like a place where big and exciting things were always happening. It wouldn't have occurred to Maria to think of it as crowded and loud.

“There's coffee,” Helena added.

“Oh, thank you.” Maria fished a pastry out of the bag for Alberto, and went to pour herself a cup.

Alberto examined this strange foodstuff. They'd had bread sometimes on the island, when Giancarlo brought it back from the various places he'd been working, but most of their food had always come from the sea. The cream-filled croissant didn't look like anything the baby had ever been given before. He dug his fat little fingers into it and pulled it apart, fascinated by the filling oozing out. Finally he thought to taste it, and his face lit up. He stuffed the rest in his mouth.

“Is that good?” asked Maria, sitting down beside him with her coffee.

Alberto grinned with his mouth full and his cheeks puffed out, and reached for the cup.

“Ah, ah, this is not for you,” Maria told him. “You can have a drink when I'm done.” He really was too old to nurse anymore, but she hadn't had a lot of other treats to offer him. Now that they were in town, the baby could be properly weaned. That would be a relief.

“He's so curious,” said Helena fondly, as Alberto sucked pastry crumbs off his fingers.

Maria moved a little, so that Helena would not be able to see if Alberto's hands began to turn purple. “This is a new place,” she said, “but he's a bright little fellow.” Alberto always needed to investigate and study everything shown to him, from snails on rocks to pieces of sea glass.

“According to the newspaper, the rain is supposed to let up later,” said Helena. “We could do some shopping. He'll need new clothes and so will you.”

“That's a good idea. I'll pay you back when I have the money,” Maria promised.

“If that would make you feel better,” Helena said. “Massimo told me you'd always been very independent.” She watched as Alberto slid down from his seat to start exploring the kitchen again. “I think he must take after you that way.”

“He does,” Maria agreed. “He tries to dress himself but he always gets stuck. He'll manage someday.” She looked around the kitchen, to make sure there were no more buckets of water and creatures sitting around.

Helena noticed. “Massimo delivered the lobsters last night,” she assured Maria.

Massimo himself joined them a few minutes later, his hair and shoulders wet from being outdoors where he'd been checking on the boat. “The water is too rough for fishing this morning,” he said, without any other greeting to the women. “I may go out later if it calms.” He sat down, and Maria pushed the coffee pot towards him. Massimo nodded thanks and poured himself a cup, then sat and watched his nephew opening and closing cupboard doors. “How is he this morning?”

“Into everything already,” said Helena. “Maria and I may go out shopping later, since we were saying he needs things.”

Massimo nodded.

It was always difficult to tell what Massimo was thinking. Maria had once been good at it, but she'd been away for a long time, and she'd gotten used to Giancarlo, who showed everything he was thinking on his face even if he sometimes put great effort into lying about it. Was there something on Massimo's mind, or was he just being his usual quiet self?

“Is something wrong?” asked Helena.

“Maria's boat is gone,” said Massimo.

Maria's heart leaped into her throat. Giancarlo must have come back for it. Why hadn't he visited the house? Was it because he was afraid of Massimo? Or had he been there looking in the window while she'd closed the shutters in the middle of the night? The idea made her shudder. “I must not have tied it properly,” she said. “I didn't think what would happen if the wind came up.”

Massimo gave her a sideways look. He knew she was good with knots. “Somebody went through the equipment in mine, too. Nothing was taken, but I brought everything back to the Pescheria.”

Maria bit her lip, wondering what Giancarlo had been looking for.

“That'll be a very wet and disappointed thief in this weather,” was Helena's only observation.

Maria was terrified that one or the other of them would realize she was hiding something and demand more information, but neither did. Once breakfast was over, Massimo went downstairs to go through the shop, sorting yesterday's catch into what was still fresh enough to sell and what would have to be turned into fertilizer. Maria would have offered to help, but she would have had to take Alberto with her, and the Pescheria would be full of water and ice. Instead, she helped Helena clean up the plates and cups.

“When are you due?” Maria asked the other woman.

“Six weeks,” Helena replied, running an affectionate hand over her belly. “It can't come soon enough, honestly. I'm getting so tired of hauling this extra weight around.”

Alberto chose that moment to tug on Maria's skirt, and she scooped him up and poked the end of his nose with her finger. “You really think that ends when they're born?”

“I guess not!” Helena said with a laugh, “but at least you can switch arms when one gets tired!”

The weather remained windy and grey, but the rain petered out by lunchtime, and Helena and Maria were able to go for their shopping trip. Even after promising to pay it back, Maria didn't want Helena to spend too much money on her, so she chose their first stop: a place that sold second-hand clothing and furniture, halfway up the hill. The break in the weather meant that more people were outside now, hoping to get a few tasks done before it started again.

“Hello, Maria!” Concetta Aragosta called out, as she and her friend Pinuccia passed. “Ottavia Brugnole said you were back.”

“That I am,” Maria replied, a bit puzzled by the greeting. The Aragosta ladies mostly kept to themselves, and didn't seem to be related to anybody else in town as far as Maria knew. They'd never spoken to her before.

Then again, after Signora Brugnole had been the first person to see her back, it was probably the talk of the town: Maria Marcovaldo returns, dressed in rags and carrying a toddler. Maria hadn't thought about that. She'd been so worried about what Massimo would think of her reappearance that it hadn't occurred to her to wonder what other people might say, any more than it had what she would say to them. Were they picturing her as fallen woman, wandering the world in rags with some stranger's bastard on her back?

But Concetta and Pinuccia did not look scandalized or even unhappy. They were smiling kindly as they came closer, and Alberto, who was alert and looking around in Maria's arms at all these new things, greeted them with the same wide eyes as he had every other stranger.

“Hello, there, little fellow!” Pinuccia said, wiggling her fingers at him in a wave. “Has your mummy got you out and about today?”

“Will his father be joining you?” Concetta wanted to know, although she sounded dubious.

Maria shook her head. “His father is... no longer with us.” It was so much harder to lie to somebody's face than it had been to do so to Helena's back last night.

“I'm so sorry,” said Pinuccia.

“If you need any help with the baby, you can always come and ask us,” Concetta added. “I promise, we know all about unusual children.” She winked.

Maria stared at her. What did she mean, unusual children? Did she know? How was that possible? She held Alberto a little tighter, making him squirm.

“We'll see you around and about, we're sure,” said Concetta.

“Arrivederci,” Pinuccia agreed, and the two of them puttered off.

Helena watched them go with a puzzled expression. “Do you know them very well?” she asked Maria.

“No,” Maria replied, just as confused as her new sister-in-law. “I think that's the first time I've ever spoken to them. I was right about Signora Brugnole, though,” she added. “She told everybody.”

“She certainly did,” Helena nodded. “We'll be hearing all kinds of theories about where you've been, I'm sure.”

When they walked into the second-hand shop, the woman behind the counter turned to her teenage son, who was assisting her, and said in a low voice, “that's her. That's Maria Marcovaldo.” Then she flashed a bright smile and approached the two women. “Welcome, Signora Marcovaldo,” she said in a much louder voice. “And welcome back, Signorina Marcovaldo – I'd heard you were back in town.”

Maria hadn't been addressed as Signorina Marcovaldo since she'd left home, and she wasn't sure now whether it was a good idea to start again. She didn't particularly want to use Giancarlo's surname, but being miss while carrying a small child would only make her a pariah. So she said, “it's Signora Scorfano.”

“Oh, so sorry,” said the woman, her smile not faltering a moment. “Signora Scorfano. I expect you need something to wear, and something for your boy, as well.”

It really was that obvious, wasn't it? “Yes, please.”

Alberto was the most important thing, so Maria went to the children's section first. She found him a lovely little set of rust-coloured overalls with sailboat on the front, and a yellow shirt to go with them. This was far more clothing than Alberto was used to, and he squirmed and complained as she put it on him in the changing room. As soon as she had the last button done, he escaped his mother's arms and went running out into the shop again.

Maria ran after and scooped him up, and Helena laughed at the sight.

“You come back here, you little scamp!” said Maria with a laugh. She gave Alberto a kiss on each cheek as he continued to wriggle. “Look at you, you look so handsome!”

“Doesn't he just?” Helena agreed with a grin.

“We'll take this set,” Maria told the shopkeeper. “Let me find a few more.”

She chose a couple more little outfits for Alberto, and then two inexpensive dresses for herself. Both of these would have to be let down before she could wear them, but that would give her something to do for the afternoon, at least. They paid the shopkeeper, and then Helena insisted on treating Maria to lunch at the trattoria on the Piazza. The sun was starting to come out now, glinting on the puddles and sparkling in the spray from the fountain. Fishermen were mopping rainwater off the decks of their boats before heading out to make up for lost time.

“Massimo will want us to hurry,” Helena observed. “He'll have work to do. So many of the men in Genova have office jobs nowadays, I always just assumed I'd marry a man who'd be doing that. A fisherman's schedule is so different.”

“Is that a good thing, or bad?” Maria asked.

“Oh, it's good,” said Helena. “On a rainy day in Genova, everybody goes to work like normal. On a rainy day here, we get to linger over breakfast and spend a little more time together. I still get to have a routine, but instead of just one, I have several, and it's a surprise in the morning which one I'll need to follow today. Now that I've lived here a while, I think trying to live in the city again would bore me to tears.” She'd been watching pigeons peck at crumbs under a neighbouring table, but now she looked at Maria with a smile. “Your husband was a diver. I imagine that was very unpredictable.”

“Yes,” Maria said. “We moved around a lot as he looked for work. Until Alberto came along, of course. Then we had to settle down.”

“Where were you living?” Helena inquried.

Maria hadn't thought of an answer to that. They'd been on that awful little island since about three months before Alberto was born. She wasn't about to tell anyone the truth. For one thing, it might lead them to Giancarlo, but for another, and perhaps more importantly, she was rather ashamed of it. The island had seemed like a good place to stay while they sorted the situation out, but then they'd somehow just never left. It hadn't been a very nice place to live, certainly no place to raise a child, but they hadn't known what else to do. Why hadn't she left months ago?

“We were in Montpellier when Giancarlo died,” Maria decided. They had stopped in that city, so she'd be able to answer questions about it if anyone asked. “I came back as fast as I could, but I didn't have much money.”

“I'm glad you made it,” said Helena. “It'll be okay now, I promise.” She smiled gently. “Massimo is so happy you're home. I honestly thought he might cry about it.”

Maria felt her chest tighten. That was why she'd stayed so long – because she'd had nowhere to go but Portorosso, and she'd thought Massimo would be angry with her. If she'd only known.

As she and Helena stepped outside again, Maria saw that the two Aragosta ladies were sitting on the edge of the fountain, enjoying some gelato. One of them smiled and waved, but Maria did not respond, still put off by their earlier conversation. Alberto, however, wriggled out of her arms, and before she could stop him he took off across the open space towards the two old women.

And towards the fountain full of water. Maria ran after him.

“Alberto!” she called out. “Alberto, come back here right now!”

Concetta Aragosta handed her ice cream to her partner and held out her arms to pick the boy up. That wasn't reassuring to Maria, who didn't want strangers handling her child. She'd almost caught up, only to see the woman grab for Alberto and miss. He hadn't been heading for her at all; he'd been running for the water, and now he toppled over the edge of the fountain and into the basin with a splash.

Maria shrieked in dismay, and then cried out, “no!” as Concetta Aragosta stood up and pulled the transformed baby out of the water. Immediately, Maria snatched him away and began drying him on her shawl in a panic. This could not be happening. There were so many people here! Not just the two old ladies and Helena right behind her, but a dozen others in the surrounding shops and businesses who might now see the little fishy creature in Maria's arms. Concetta and Pinuccia crowded close, perhaps for a better look, and Maria hunched as if to curl protectively around her son. It was too late. Much too late.

“Is he okay?” asked Helena, coming up next to Maria.

Maria swallowed hard, trying not to burst into tears. What were they going to say? They'd think she was worse than a fallen woman, that she was raising some monster...

“There we go,” said Concetta softly, rubbing Alberto's face dry on her apron. “There we go, all human!”

Maria blinked her tears away and stared at the old lady, uncomprehending. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing, dear,” Concetta said. She took a step back, and Maria clutched Alberto closer, shifting his weight as his tail vanished again. “We told you we knew about unusual children, didn't we?”

“We'll see you again soon,” Pinuccia said. She gave her friend her gelato cone back, and the two of them started back up the hill towards their home.

That left Maria standing there watching in confusion as they vanished around a corner – and Helena standing there looking at Maria with a similarly befuddled expression.

“What was that?” asked Helena.

Maria licked her lips as she tried to decide what to say. Her sister-in-law didn't look frightened, at least... maybe because the two old women had been so calm about it. She just looked confused.

“What did you see?” Maria wanted to know.

“I'm not sure,” Helena replied, coming closer to examine Alberto. There was nothing outwardly odd about him now, just a toddler squirming because his mother was holding him too tight. “I... is he your son?”

“Of course he is!” Maria huffed. “You have to promise not to tell Massimo!”

“I don't even know what I'd be telling him!” Helena protested. Her eyes went to something behind Maria.

Maria turned to see what she was looking at, and found that Massimo was waving to them from the Pescheria door. Maria waved back with what she hoped was a normal-looking smile, although she had her doubts. Massimo pointed to his boat, and Maria nodded.

“We have to go back to the Pescheria,” said Helena. “Somebody needs to mind the shop.”

“Of course,” said Maria. The Pescheria would be a relatively private place where she could... she didn't know what she was going to do. Somehow she must reassure Helena that this wasn't a problem, and then she had to be sure Massimo wouldn't find out.

They returned to the building, and stood in the doorway to watch Massimo start the engine on his boat and putter out to sea. Helena then went straight to the cash register to deal with their first customer, a woman hoping to purchase some squid for calamari. Maria waited in a corner with Alberto in her arms. He whined because he didn't know what he'd done to make her upset, so Maria stroked his curls and murmured reassurances, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“You scared Mamma so bad,” she whispered, “and I think you scared Auntie Helena too... but the two Signore Aragosta, they didn't mind.” She would have to talk to them. What did they know? Was it obvious to them in some way that Alberto wasn't fully human? Was there something she hadn't even noticed before that Maria was now going to have to worry about hiding?

Finally the customer left, and Helena came out to speak to Maria. Maria swallowed hard, wondering what in the world she was going to say. Would she throw her out, saying she didn't want a freak like that in her home?

“Is he all right?” Helena asked. “I mean...”

Maria sighed and set Alberto on the floor. There were plenty of puddles and ice he could get into here, but it hardly mattered when Helena had already seen. “He's fine. He's...” how could she explain, without making the situation look even worse? “What has Massimo told you about the sea monsters?”

Helena frowned in confusion and watched Alberto sit down on the floor to pick up a dropped coin. To her, the question must have seemed like something out of nowhere. “He said he first saw one the same summer you left. He tried several times to catch it, but it always got away. He said you and your boyfriend laughed at him when he talked about it...” her voice trailed off.

Maria winced at the memory. She hadn't realized in the moment that Massimo would be hurt by that. Her first instinct had been to protect Giancarlo. That whole summer they'd been terrified that Massimo might find out what Giancarlo was, especially when he kept saying how determined he was to catch the creature and mount it on the wall. Maria had feared he was hinting he already knew, and all her secret-keeping was for nothing.

Helena was still waiting for an explanation. For a split second longer, Maria thought about just making something up, but she knew that nothing she came up with would seem believable, even if it were still more plausible than the truth. Especially when she had already insisted that yes, Alberto was her son. She couldn't have denied that, even if it would help her story. She didn't have it in her.

“Giancarlo was the sea monster,” said Maria. “They transform when they get out of the water, and change back when they get wet again. I know it sounds like a fairy tale...”

With the coin still clutched in his hand, Alberto had wandered over to gaze at a basket of crabs. The crustaceans' claws had rubber bands wrapped around them so they couldn't pinch, but that didn't mean it was a good idea for Alberto to try to touch them. Maria went and ushered him away again. He stepped in a puddle on the way, and his bare foot transformed again.

“So he'll do that every time he gets wet?” Helena asked.

Maria nodded. “You see why you can't tell Massimo, right?”

“We have to,” said Helena. “He needs to know.”

“No, he doesn't!” Maria insisted. “You can't. If he finds out...”

“He would never hurt your child!” said Helena. “No matter what.”

“What if he doesn't believe that Alberto is my child?” Maria asked. “You didn't! He's told everybody in town he was going to kill that sea monster. He'd never let one live in his house.” She shuddered to think about it.

“It's your son,” Helena said. “He'll understand.”

Somebody cleared their throat, and both women turned to see a man standing in the shop doorway. Maria went cold. How much had he heard?

“Sorry to interrupt, Signora Marcovaldo,” the man said to Helena, “but my wife sent me to see if you have any large shrimp.”

“Of course!” said Helena, hurrying to find them. “Here we go! They're yesterday's, but they lived through the night just fine. Will these do?” she offered a basket.

The man studied them critically while Maria backed towards the inside door with Alberto in her arms. Some haggling followed, and she slipped through and shut the door softly behind her, then sat down on the stairs with her face in her hands.

“Ma?” Alberto asked.

“Sorry, Berto,” she replied. “It's not your fault. I want you to know that. None of this is your fault. It's all your father's and mine.”

The voices outside eventually ceased, and Helena cracked the door open.

“I don't think he heard anything,” she said to Maria. “He didn't ask any questions.”

Maria nodded. “You've got to promise,” she repeated.

“Massimo will find out anyway,” Helena said. “You can't keep children from getting into things. Alberto has been into everything from the moment he arrived.”

“Then I'll have to watch him better,” said Maria. Her son was used to being allowed to run around wherever he liked on the island, and was quite happy in or out of the water. It was going to be a very different life he would have to get used to here in town. Perhaps she should have waited until he was old enough to understand why they would have to hide what he was... but no, Maria couldn't have lasted that long, and neither could Alberto. He needed other children. He needed a life Giancarlo wasn't willing to give him.

“Maria,” Helena began.

“No. I need you to promise, because if you don't...” she swallowed. “Then I'm going to have to leave.”

Helena sighed, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but she nodded. “I promise. I won't tell Massimo myself, but I know he's going to find out one way or another. He doesn't miss much.”

“He missed Giancarlo,” said Maria.

“I don't know if I'd be sure of that,” Helena said.

Maria shuddered. “I just... I can't make this more complicated. I feel like I'm going mad as it is.”

“I won't tell,” said Helena, “but I think you should.”

That would have to do for now, Maria decided.

Massimo came back that night with a catch that needed to be sorted and packed in ice for tomorrow. Maria had spent the afternoon washing and re-hemming her new clothes, and had allowed Helena to trim her hair, so she was looking far more civilized by the time her brother came upstairs to eat the fish stew his wife had made them for supper.

“It must have been a productive afternoon. You certainly smell like fish,” said Helena, going to kiss him. She then winced and took a step back, a hand on her belly. “The little one's excited to see Papá!”

Massimo closed the distance between them and kissed his wife's cheek, then bent down to kiss her swollen abdomen. That done, he looked to his sister. “Your shopping trip went well?” he asked.

“Yes, it did,” said Maria. She was finishing up sewing a button on one of the shirts she'd bought for Alberto, who was napping beside her. “He doesn't like his new clothes very much, but he'll get used to them.”

“He needs shoes,” Massimo observed.

“He does,” Maria agreed. “He's never had any.” Alberto would probably hate them, but Maria wouldn't have to worry about him stepping in puddles.

“Good catch?” asked Helena.

“Yes,” Massimo replied. “There'll be deliveries to do tomorrow, so I may not be able to go out again until late.”

“I can do them,” Maria volunteered. “I need something to do besides sit around the house. That would drive me crazy.”

“What about Alberto?” asked Massimo.

“I can watch him in the shop,” Helena suggested. She caught Maria's eye, and Maria nodded. Now that Helena knew, it was safe to leave Alberto alone in her care... Maria hadn't thought of that.

They ate their supper. Helena apologized, saying that she wasn't as much of a cook as Massimo, but it tasted just fine to Maria. She was a decent cook herself, though she hadn't been able to do much with some of the things Giancarlo had brought her, the seaweed and shellfish and random things that lived in the mud. He'd cooked them himself sometimes, but had said he didn't remember most of the recipes his own mother had tried to teach him. Having real food again felt like a royal feast.

“I can do the cooking on the night's Massimo can't,” Maria suggested. “Especially once the baby is born.”

“You don't need to earn your keep,” said Massimo.

“I'm not trying to earn my keep,” Maria told him. “If I'm going to be part of this household, then it's only fair I should contribute to it. You want to help me, I want to help you.”

After the meal, Helena collected the dishes to wash, and Massimo went downstairs to make sure everything was locked up and properly stored. Maria, meanwhile, scooped up Alberto, who'd managed to get stew all over his new clothes just as he'd doused himself in trenette al pesto the previous night.

“You like your aunt and uncle's cooking, don't you?” she asked. “If the mess you make is any measure, then you thought Auntie Helena's stew was delicious!”

“It's good to have a fan,” laughed Helena.

“Come on, bambino,” said Maria. “I think tonight you're going to need a proper bath.” She looked over her shoulder at Helena and saw her nod – Helena would keep Massimo from bothering them, and Alberto could splash in safety.

As she climbed the stairs, Maria though of that old saying about how one person could keep a secret, but once a second person knew, it wasn't a secret anymore. Here, that was not true. Helena knowing and being willing to help would actually make things much easier in several ways. Was it too much to hope for that the two Aragosta women would be the same?

She would have to deal with that tomorrow.

#pixar luca #fanfiction #alberto scorfano #massimo marcovaldo #maria scorfano #alternate universe #homecoming #i apologize to anyone who dies of cute from the illustrations

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