Prequel

Tia and Dana have only been friends for a couple of weeks. Tia,Italian Roman Catholic.. Dana, Irish Transcendentalist. Can a girl from Naples, Italy find love in a West Pennsylvania factory town?

PREQUEL

One good turn deserves another.

"Thanks for studying this stuff with me," Dana said to the pretty Italian girl lying on her stomach on Dana's bed, with her feet in the air behind her. "I would have been totally lost without you."

Dana Ryan was seventeen and had just started her junior year at Pinwheel High School a few weeks before. She was a teased redheaded Irish girl with freckles and milky white skin and of above average height, a few inches taller than the girl next to which she now sat. Dana's hazel eyes danced in the beam of the ceiling light overhead. She had only known the Italian girl, Tia Marie Mastrogiovanni, for approximately two weeks. But already, the girls were inseparable.

"Yeah, right?" Tia said. A smirk. She played with her voluminous long, curly jet black hair. Tia had a distinctive Italian accent, but was fluent in English. "Like I know what I'm doing with Calculus. I'm a literature freak, like you are. Not a math geek."

Dana looked at her friend with a quizzical stare. "How does a girl from Naples, Italy, who has only been in this country a few months, know so much about English literature and speak the language so well?"

"It helps when your mother is from Johnstown and an English teacher," Tia said. Her full lips stretched into a smile. "And for your information, I've spent time in America and in this area before."

"So, wait. You're not totally Italian?" Dana asked.

"Yes, I'm totally Italian," Tia said. Her pretty dark eyes looked at Dana with a bugged out stare. "My mother is Italian-American. My father is Italian-Italian. A native Neapolitan."

"Huh?"

"He's from Naples," Tia said. A giggle. "That's where I'm from. My mother's parents were from Naples, too. That's how my parents met. My parents used to play together as kids every time my mother's parents brought her to Naples to visit relatives. They used to stay practically all summer. When they got older, they fell in love."

Dana swooned. "Ah, that's so romantic."

Tia pursed her lips and shrugged. "I guess. I say it was inevitable. You spend enough time together with someone, and its bound to happen. Like catching a cold."

"I guess so."

A contemplative pause.

"So, anyway," Dana said. "This is what I was thinking. Since you've helped me out with Calculus like, a million times in the past two weeks--"

Tia rolled her eyes. "I told you, girlfriend. The blind leading the blind."

"Well, whatever," Dana said. "I want to do something for you."

"I'm listening."

"Take you to a party tonight that my boyfriend is throwing at his house."

Tia looked at Dana with open-mouthed amusement. "Your boyfriend is throwing a party at his house? It must gonna be boring."

"Why?"

"Because his parents will be around, right?"

"No," Dana said. She shook her head, flashed Tia a devilish grin and pointed an index finger at her. "See, that's where you're wrong. Patrick's parents are away for the whole weekend."

"He lives in that big house up on the hill--"

"Pinwheel Ridge."

"Yeah, above the high school, doesn't he?" Tia asked.

"Uh, huh."

"And doesn't his parents like, own the town, or something?"

Dana pursed her lips. "Basically. Patrick's grandfather from over a hundred years ago founded Pinwheel."

"And everyone here is Transcendentalist or something, right?"

"Well, not everyone," Dana said. "Not anymore." She looked at Tia, curious. "You know about Transcendentalism?"

Tia gave Dana an open-mouthed "duh!" look. "Well, maybe not as much as a Transcendentalist does, like you, but-- mother? English teacher? Remember? Hel-lo!" She smiled.

"Oh, yeah. So, is your family Transcendentalist?"

This got a laugh out of the good-natured Tia. "Girlfriend, my family is Italian. We're nothing but Roman Catholic." She looked strangely at Dana. "Aren't you? I mean, you're Irish, right? Aren't all Irish Catholics?"

"Yes, most are," Dana said. A grin. "And yes, the Ryan family is Roman Catholic. But my part of the family isn't. We're Transcendentalist."

Tia shrugged and looked at her friend in a confused fashion. "So, it's a philosophy, not a religion, right? You can't be both?"

Dana shook her head. "No, you can. At least in Pinwheel you can, since we're neo-Transcendentalists. But my family has elected not to. We broke away from Catholicism, because we don't believe in churches or organized group worship of any kind."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's what my boyfriend Patrick's grandfather believed."

"And what about you?"

"Me, what?"

"What do you believe?"

Dana shrugged. "Makes sense, I guess."

"So, you're ready to become a Catholic, break out against the grain?" Tia asked. She had fun in the attempt to get to know her friend better.

"No," Dana said. She shook her head. "Not interested." She smiled. "So, don't try anything, alright?"

"God, no."

Dana thought for a second. "But I'm not ready to become a Buddhist, either."

"Huh?"

"Patrick's grandfather was big about eastern religion and their views," Dana said. "Especially about time."

"And you don't believe what he believed?"

"No," Dana said, "I believe in circular time and all that, and I don't have any interest in churches, either."

"But?"

"But, I also don't really believe in religion. Eastern or western. I don't see the point. If I want to worship God, why do I need to follow some rules that someone made up? Why can't I worship God in my own way? I mean, that's more realistic, isn't it?"

"Good point," Tia said. Dana's point made her think about her own beliefs concerning religion in general and, more specifically, the Roman Catholic faith. "OK, you passed."

"Passed what?"

"My test. You're not as naive as I thought you were."

"Oh, really. You thought that?"

"Sort of. But don't take it the wrong way. I thought that because I think you're a sweet person."

Dana pursed her lips. "Thanks, I think." She smiled. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Thanks."

"But I wouldn't exactly call you 'sweet.'"

"No? What would you call me, then?"

Dana shrugged. "I don't know. 'Aware,' maybe?"

"'Aware.' Hmmm. Aware is good. You're 'sweet' and I'm 'aware.' I like it."

"I thought you would."

From that point on, "sweetness" and "awareness" became the girls' nicknames when in the presence of their inner circle of friends.

Tia smiled. "So, that's why you two are going out together." A shrug. "I thought it was because you were a gold digger."

"Wha--"

"You know, trying to marry into the founding family and all. To get money and power. Make a name for yourself. Stuff like that."

Dana looked at Tia with knitted brow, visibly offended. "That's not why I-- is that really what--"

Tia laughed and gave Dana a playful shove. "Honey, I'm kidding around with you."

"Oh."

"You love him and think he's hot. That's cool. I get it."

Dana smiled and returned the shove. "See? That's why we have to get you a boyfriend, girlfriend."

"So I can become a Transcendentalist, too?"

Dana shook her head. "No, you don't--"

Tia smiled. "Girl, you just made me think twice about my own religion." A laugh. "Once a Catholic, always a Catholic, girlfriend." A shrug. She pursed her full lips. "But this Transcendentalist thing? It'll never happen."

Patrick Murphy's house, as the girls mentioned, was a large Stick Style Victorian (one of the finest examples of the style, not to mention one of the only "stick work" homes existing in the region) that sat just below Pinwheel Ridge, a heavily wooded, rocky area, overlooking Residential Hill Road and Pinwheel High School.

The Murphy Estate, as it was known in Pinwheel, was built in 1853 by Patrick Murphy the first, the founder of Pinwheel. Dana's Patrick Murphy was actually the seventh in a series of eldest sons.

The house boasted a very large living area that featured two huge fireplaces and two turret stairwells with winding staircases at either end. There was a mammoth eat-in kitchen that was two-thirds the size of the living area. The second floor hallway doubled as a ten thousand volume library, with books on a variety of subjects, but most dealing with Transcendentalism and literary classics (many first editions).

Although spacious, it was a running joke among the Murphies that Pinwheel Transcendentalists had no need of sleep or relief, as the Murphy Estate contained only two bedrooms and one bathroom within its entire six thousand square feet of living space. The one bathroom arrangement also held true for the two houses on either side of the Murphy Estate, the Pitt and Jacobi residences, built at the same time. (The Jacobis enjoyed the comfort and convenience of not two, but three bedrooms.) Nevertheless, there was more than ample space for any overnight guests of the Murphies to stretch themselves out in comfort.

Before Dana and Tia had even reached the beginning of the long Murphy driveway, they could see clearly that it was filled with cars. The large, sloping yard also held many standing and reclining guests along the entirety of its length. Nearly all of the lights were on in the house, and the festive bodies of scores of young male and female Pinwheel teens could be seen inside the house, on both the bottom and upstairs floors. The only floor that remained dark was the third floor attic space, its three large, round galley windows appearing to be asleep amidst the cacophony. This was a feat, considering the blasting of "Man in the Box" by Alice in Chains, representing the newly founded Seattle Grunge sound, via western Pennsylvania.

"Wow," Tia said to Dana with a large smile, "your boyfriend really knows how to party. Looks like he invited the whole town."

"Yeah, and part of Johnstown, too," Dana said. A smirk. She looked at the scene before her. "C'mon, let's start up."

The girls were halfway up the driveway when they heard a rather cheerful female voice (as always, Dana thought, laced with the taint of wealth) that came from out of the darkness on their right.

"Dana," the owner of the voice-- a young, attractive blonde, petite, with a rather aloof look-- said. A smile. "I was hoping that you would be here by now." She studied Tia with a focused curiosity.

"Hey, Tristan," Dana said. A half smile. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Who is this?"

"Oh, Tristan, this is Tia, a friend of mine. She just moved to Pinwheel with her family from Naples a few months back."

This seemed to get the girl's attention. "Naples? As in Italy?"

"That's the one," Tia said. A smile, sincere. "And you are?"

"Tristan," the girl said. She came across matter-of-fact and offered a limp hand. "Tristan Pitt."

Tia took Tristan's hand in hers and did a double take. "Pitt? As in William Pitt? Pittsburgh?"

Tristan smiled. "We're related."

Tia pursed her lips, not knowing what to say. She flashed a look at Dana, for whom all of this seemed rather routine.

"You speak English very well," Tristan said. A small grin. "For a foreigner. And also seem to be well-versed in local history."

Tia bobbed her head back and forth. "Well, I'm kinda Naples, Italy, by way of Johnstown."

"Hmmm," Tristan said. "I'm Pinwheel, by way of Sewickley Heights."

"I've heard of that," Tia said.

"We're all from somewhere else. Isn't that right, Dana?"

"I'm Pinwheel, by way of Pinwheel," Dana said. Matter of fact. She grabbed Tia's hand. "We gotta go, Tristan. We'll see you in there."

Tristan just smiled and nodded.

"It was nice meeting you," Tia said.

Dana practically dragged Tia away from the amused girl. When they were far enough away, Tia looked at Dana with a grin.

"I take it that you and little Miss Pitt don't get along?"

Dana glanced back at Tristan. She slowly made her way up the long driveway behind them. "We get along well enough," she said. "As well as we can, I guess."

Tia looked at her friend with knitted brow. "I don't get it."

Dana sighed. "Tristan Pitt's family is filthy rich. Tristan grew up in Sewickley Heights, outside of Pittsburgh. It's the wealthiest area around here. They have a thirty room mansion there with servants, or something."

"So, what's she doing in Pinwheel?" Tia asked.

"Well, it seems that 'little miss thing' peeved her parents by going out with someone outside of her social class."

"Really? Who? Someone from Pinwheel?"

"No, actually, someone from Johnstown. Westmont area." Dana looked at Tia. "Maybe you know him."

"Maybe," Tia said. "What's his name?"

"Mark LaSalle. His family is supposed to be old and upper middle class, but not upper class, like Tristan's. He's a nice guy, a musician. A guitarist and classically trained pianist, I think. Has a band that plays in the area. They're pretty good. But he's kind of a new age stoner hippie, or something."

Tia shook her head, thoughtful. "I've never heard of him, but my sister Arianna might have." A grin. "Since she's older, she gets around more than I do. And my mother probably would know his family. "

Dana nodded.

"But, wait," Tia said. She glanced back at Tristan. "If Miss Pitt is dating someone like that and got into trouble with her family, then she can't be all that bad, can she?"

"No," Dana said. "All-in-all, Tristan is alright. She actually is very smart and talented. A great ballet dancer. She's won a lot of awards and dance competitions. But like most rich people, she starts acting like it, after awhile." A shrug. "It's probably not her fault, though. I guess it can't be helped."

A smirk from Tia. "And you're not rich?"

"Yeah," Dana said. A nod in the affirmative. "My family is one of the original families in Pinwheel and all that, but we're talking way rich, here. Probably more than the Murphies, Ryans, Jacobis and Stonehouses combined."

The four families mentioned by Dana were the four founding families of Pinwheel.

"So, has she been disowned, or something?"

"Not really," Dana said. "More like on probation, I guess."

It was Tia's turn to nod. "So, who does she live with in Pinwheel? Why here?"

Dana jerked her head in the direction of the large, white Carpenter Gothic home with bright yellow, highly decorated eaves a few hundred feet from the Murphy Estate's right flank, in the direction from which Tristan came. "She lives over there, with her grandparents. They're nice, very down-to-earth. I guess they got tired of Sewickley Heights at some point and moved here. But the Pitts have been here ever since I can remember. They're Transcendentalist."

"Is Tristan?"

Dana shrugged. "I don't really know what she is," she said.

There was no need for the girls to gain access into the Murphy Estate, for one large double door stood open, almost as a perpetual invitation to potential party goers. Once inside, Dana attempted to seek out her beau. But, as fate would have it, Patrick Murphy VII found her first.

"There you are," Patrick said. He came up to Dana from behind with a pleasant smile on his face. Patrick Murphy was of average height and strong, athletic build. A baseball fanatic who loved the Pittsburgh Pirates, he was a star outfielder and clean-up hitter for the Pinwheel Pirates varsity baseball team. Patrick was also a letter man in football and wrestling. The young Murphy carried himself with confidence, almost swagger. He featured short, strawberry blond hair and light brown eyes. Patrick put his arms around Dana's waist and nuzzled her cheek. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"I'm here," Dana said. She purred in reaction to Patrick's advances.

Patrick looked at a bemused Tia. "I know you," he said. "You're that new Italian girl, right?"

"That's me," Tia said. Her patented, good-natured smile on display. "Brand new."

"Patrick," Dana said, "this is my friend, Tia. Tia, Patrick Murphy. My boyfriend, and our host for the evening."

Patrick offered his hand to Tia, who accepted it.

"Welcome to the Murphy Estate," he said.

"Pleased, I'm sure," Tia said. Carefree, amused.

When Patrick had left, Tia turned to Dana. "He's nice."

Dana shrugged and smiled. "He's alright, I guess."

The girls shared a giggle as Dana looked around the extra large living room.

"No, but seriously, girlfriend. We got to get you hooked up with someone. See something you like?"

Tia's dark eyes followed Dana's hazel eyes around the room. They abruptly stopped when they reached a group of boys who stood near the large fireplace on the other side.

"Who's that?"

"Where? Show me. Point to him."

Tia did so. "The hot, dark haired guy standing over there by the fireplace."

Dana flashed a wide smile. "Excellent choice," she said, excited. "That's Franz Jacobi. Patrick's best friend. He's part of our crew. And, he's single."

"Hmmm."

"Maybe you can do something about that."

"Maybe."

"C'mon, I'll introduce you."

Dana led Tia over to the boy in question, who led a conversation with two other boys by the huge fireplace, located on the wall off of the Murphy dining room. Franz was taller and slighter of build than Patrick. His face featured the typical chiseled features of someone of Germanic descent, or the face of Nietzsche's übermensch. When Franz saw that Dana approached, he gave a wide smile and nod of acknowledgment. He said some words of departure to the two males.

"Dana," Franz Jacobi said. He gave his friend a hug. "What's up, girl?"

"Franz," this is my friend, Tia. "Tia, my friend, Franz."

"Wow," Franz said. A whistle. "You really do have a lot of hair. It's nice, though."

In years to come, Franz's first words to Tia became a phrase often repeated in the company of others, with fond and lighthearted remembrance.

The two exchanged pleasantries. Dana, a longtime friend of Franz Jacobi, could tell by his expression and tone of voice that he was definitely interested in Tia, at least physically. It was a start.

"So, are you new to Pinwheel?" Franz asked Tia.

Before Tia could answer, Dana provided Franz with the necessary response.

"Tia is from Naples."

"Really?"

"Really," Tia said. A grin. "The one in Italy."

"Well, I didn't think you were referring to the one in Pennsylvania," Franz said. Matter-of-fact.

This straightforward response threw Tia off. "Wait, there's a Naples, Pennsylvania? Really?"

Franz looked at Tia without a change in his expression and shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe. But I would think that it would be irrelevant information, considering that you've already established the fact that you're from the one in Italy."

Tia, amused by all of this, and pleased that her wit was matched by a guy that she considered cute, pointed at Franz and looked at Dana with knitted brow. "Who is this guy, again?" She asked.

Franz looked at Dana with a modest smile.

Dana nodded, pleased at her success. "OK, I can see we're good, here," she said. A grin of contentment. Dana flashed a conspiratorial glance at Tia. "I think that's Patrick, coming out of the kitchen. I'll leave you two alone."

When Dana left, Franz turned back to Tia. "So, are you a Transcendentalist?"

"Is that a pick-up line?" Tia asked.

Franz shook his head. "No, actually, I'm asking you if you are a Transcendentalist. You know, Emerson, Thoreau? Wait. That's right, you're from Naples, Italy." An indifferent shrug. "They probably don't have those there."

"No, but we do have a lot of Roman Catholics, though."

"Ah."

"So, I take it that there's a pinwheel¹ in your front yard?"

"Several." Franz pointed in the direction of the window located in the stairwell turret at the nearest end wall of the living room. "Go take a look."

"That's your house?" Tia asked. She entered the turret and walked slowly over to the window. "It looks like one of those haunted houses you see in horror movies."

Franz laughed. "Well, it is a Second Empire," he said. "I guess that's why. Your stereotypical haunted house."

"Is it?" Tia asked. She was not feigning apprehension. "Haunted, I mean."

"Not unless my grandfather is still there. Personally, I have no evidence of the fact."

"Who's your grandfather? Was he famous around here like Patrick's grandfather?"

"Well, I'm talking about my immediate grandfather. It was his house before it was my father's." Franz's face brightened. "But I do have a rather famous grandfather, at least in Transcendentalist circles."

"Really?"

"Uh, huh. Deiter Jacobi. He was a well-known pioneer of German Transcendentalism, back in the late seventeen-hundreds and into the early nineteenth century."

"Who knew?" Tia said.

The two remained silent for a bit, lost in their thoughts of each other. They collectively stared out of the window. Finally, Franz broke the silence.

"So, if we were to go out sometime, would that be alright?"

"It might," Tia said. She pretended to be on her best defensive. "As long as you don't try to convert me to Transcendentalism."

"No, never." Franz said. He shrugged. "But it's a philosophy, not a religion. So I can't really 'convert' you to it." 

On the word "convert," Franz created quotation marks with the index and middle fingers of both hands.

Silence. Tia grinned. "Fact, noted."

The two stared out of the living room window at the Jacobi's Second Empire that stood a few hundred feet away. Hands, joined. The lights of town reflected off of the waters of Pinwheel Creek, beyond the property boundaries of Franz's house.

Tia's future home.

1In times past, Pinwheel residents that were Transcendentalist would place a pinwheel in their front yard, to indicate to those of a like mindset their inclination and as an offering of invitation. In present times, however, a pinwheel in a resident's yard most likely indicates a strong sense of pride in his or her town, as the majority of Pinwheel residents are no longer Transcendentalist.

Author's Note

An unpublished story from my collection Common Threads (unpublished).