Why I Love John Fante #1

Why I love John Fante #1

John Fante as a young man

(excerpt of dialogue between mother and son, from the story "A Kidnapping in the Family"):

"Something did happen!  What happened?"
"Nothing happened!" she said in exasperation.  "Your uncle told me who your father was, and we shook hands.  And that's all."
"Is that all?"
"That's all."
"Didn't anything else happen?"
"Your father courted me, and after a few months we were married.  That's all."
But I didn't like it that way.  I hated it.  I wouldn't have it.  I couldn't believe it.  I wouldn't believe it.
"No sirree!" I said.  "It didn't happen like that."
"But it did.  Why should I lie to you?  There's nothing to hide."
"Didn't he do anything to you?  Didn't he kidnap you, or something?"
"I don't remember being kidnapped."
"But you were kidnapped!"
She sat down, the broom between her knees, her two hands clutching it, and her head resting on her hands.  She was so tired, and yet the fatigue melted from her face and she smiled vaguely, the ghost-smile of the lady in the picture.
"Yes!" she said.  "He did kidnap me! He came one night when I was asleep and took me away."
"Yes!" I said.  "Yes!"
"He took me to an outlaw cabin in the mountains!"
"Sure!  And he was carrying a gun, wasn't he?"
"Yes!  A big gun.  With a pearl handle."
"And he was riding a black horse."
"Oh," she said.  "I shall never forget that horse.  "He was a beauty!"
"And you were scared to death, weren't you?"
"Petrified," she said.  "Simply petrified."
"You screamed for help, didn't you?"
"I screamed and screamed."
"But he got away, didn't he?"
"Yes, he got away."
"He took you to the outlaw cabin."
"Yes, that's where he took me."
"You were scared, but you liked it, didn't you?"
"I loved it."
"He kept you a prisoner, didn't he?"
"Yes, but he was good to me."
"Were you wearing that white dress?  The one in the picture?"
"I certainly was.  Why?"
"I just wanted to know," I said.  "How long did he keep you prisoner?"
"Three days and nights."
"And on the third night he proposed to you, didn't he?"
Her eyes closed reminiscently.
"I shall never forget it," she said.  "He got down on his knees and begged me to marry him."
"You wouldn't marry him at first, would you?"
"Not at first.  I should say not!  It was a long time before I said yes."
"But finally you did, huh?"
"Yes," she said.  "Finally."
This was too much for me.  Too much.  I threw my arms around her and kissed her, and on my lips was the sharp tang of tears.

John Fante's mother and father, Mary and Nick