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Signore Parolo goes on. “La stavo portando nel bosco.”

“You’re not taking this kitten to the woods!” I tell him. I’m about to translate what I blurted into Italian, but it doesn’t matter. Thesignoregets the point and goes into his shop. Besides, the kitten has dug her claws into the shoulder of my sweater, clinging to me as if she understood our conversation. “All right, little one. You can come home with me.”

The decision to adopt the stray kitten may seem like a small thing, but for me, it’s as big a life change as it gets. I have always wanted a kitten because, somehow, I knew the company of a pet would make me a better person, a more loving one. Bobby is allergic, so I didn’t even bring up the possibility. My mother was determined to live pet-free. I don’t have to live her life; if I did, I would be back in Lake Como, married to Bobby, and about to give birth to my third child. I nuzzle the kitten into my cheek. She smells like talcum powder.

As the shops close on the piazza, the lights on the street leveldim, and the lights on the second story turn on. I watch Signore Parolo take the steps up to his apartment over the shop. It’s the sacred hour on the piazza, as families gather for dinner in their homes over the shops that provide for them.

I carry the kitten up the stairs to my apartment. I’m naming her Smokey, in honor of her gray coat. I open a can oftonno all’olioand feed her a little bit. She gobbles it up. She curls up next to me when I check my mail. Dr. Albert has left me a message. “When adapting to a new environment, be kind to yourself. Making friends and acclimating is a process. Seek comfort and familiarity but set a goal to talk to someone you don’t know every day. You will be empowered to form bonds and make friends.”

I pick Smokey up. “Hello, friend.”

I google “litter box” and find that, in a pinch, shredded newspaper will substitute for kitty litter on a temporary basis. So I ripL’Eco di Bergamoin a plastic bin and place the kitten in it. She takes to the idea immediately. I am thrilled. Tomorrow, I will go out and get the proper equipment for Smokey.

Starting over has its challenges. The connection I have with Smokey is satisfying because she needs me. I like to be needed, and thanks to Dr. Rhoda—or was it Dr. Elaine?—I no longer consider being needed a weakness. I wonder if I am building a new life out of all the things I didn’t have in my old one. Or is the acknowledgment of the pain of certain memories where the answers lie?

When the Feastfinished in mid-August, the tourists left Lake Como soon after the carnival rides were disassembled and loaded onto flatbed trucks. The Ferris wheel was the last to go;the carnies rolled it out of town like a giant pink Hula-Hoop. The end of August in a shore town felt like a final sale—everything must go—so everything did, including me. I was off to Rutgers for my freshman year.

Mom stood in the bay window of the living room, waiting for me. “I wish you wouldn’t run at night.”

“The sun isn’t down yet.”

“It’s close. Somebody could pick you off that path and stuff you in the trunk of their car, and we’d never see you again. I put coffee on.”

My parents were almost done renovating our kitchen. It seemed like it took Dad years because he did the labor, and he had a full-time job, so most of the work occurred on weekends. When Dad finished, the renovated kitchen would be sunny and roomy at last, with plenty of counter space, white cabinets, a blue marble island, and a blue subway-tile backsplash. Mom recovered the booth and seat cushions herself with a Sicilian lemon theme, an Italian chintz: a bright polished cotton print in white, hot yellow, and blue. But they were still covered in plastic until Dad finished painting.

“This came for you.” Mom handed me an envelope.

“He and Aunt Lil could’ve walked it over. Saved a stamp.” I opened the back of the envelope carefully. I slid out the graduation card.To a special niece.A little girl holds the hands of her aunt and uncle as they walk on the beach.

“That’s nice,” my mother said, but her tone of voice indicated she didn’t mean it.

“Ma, it’s a check for a thousand dollars.”

“What?”

I gave my mother the check. “For my college account.”

“He’s trying to buy his way back in.”

“You know what, Ma? I’m done with your stupid Island. I don’t want any part of your feuds. I love Aunt Lil and Uncle Louie. They’ve been good to me. And they just sent me a check that will pay for my books and some of my tuition. I am nothing but grateful to them.”

“I taught you to be grateful. I also taught you to consider the source.”

My father entered the kitchen. His hair was dappled with yellow dots where the paint had dripped onto him when he painted the kitchen ceiling.

“Good God, Joe, I told you to wear a shower cap when you paint.”

“How aboutGood job, Joe. The ceiling is perfect.Which it is.”

Mom looked up. “Thank you, Joe. It looks good,” she said tersely.

“You’re friggin’ welcome.” Dad went into the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer.

“Giuseppina, Daddy and I need to talk to you.”

“You don’t have to drive me up to school. Joe said he would. Connie said she’d come too.”

My mother looked at my father. “Honey, there’s a problem,” she said to me.