Turning the Tables: From Housewife to Inmate and Back Again (6 page)

I
n the very first episode of
The Real Housewives of New Jersey
, I said, “My husband, Joe, is gorgeous. He’s built. He’s got the big shoulders and the big arms. He’s got it going on. He’s just absolutely delicious and
juicy
.”

Oh . . . some people had
a lot
to say about that. I don’t care. I felt that way about him then, and I still feel that way now. Not only is he the love of my life, he’s also my best friend. He has always been there for me and has always treated me so well. Joe comes across as a tough guy sometimes, but he is very sweet. We always have a great time together. He’s almost always in a good mood and so am I. Joe and I are both very easygoing, and we love to laugh all the time. He has always treated me like a woman should be treated. He’s always taken me to nice restaurants since day one and bought me beautiful, thoughtful gifts. He is always so kind and gentle toward me. If you couldn’t already guess, I love, love, love, love his body. He is so muscular and built. That’s why I started calling him juicy because I love hugging his strong body. I missed him so much when I was in prison—and then some.
Oh, Madonna mia!

J
oe has been in my life forever. Our parents are both
paisanos
from the same town in Italy, and they became a lot closer when they moved to America.

Just like he did in Italy, my late father-in-law made it to the top in America, too. He was a very hard worker and very smart. He started his own company doing roofing, siding, and stucco work like he did in Sala Consilina, and did very well with that. He taught Joe and his brother, Pete, the business, too. Joe always said his father was a tough guy to work for, the toughest of the tough. He wanted things done the right way or not at all, and since he was the best at what he did, he taught Joe, Pete, other family members and the people who worked for him how to do everything the right way, so that they would do well, too.

Joe and I grew up together in America. His father was even at the hospital when I was born. My future in-laws brought Joe to the hospital to meet me a day later, when he was just about to turn two. Judging from the pictures I saw of him, he was
so
cute, even then!

Since our parents were friends, we were always together, at home and in school. We both went to St. Mary’s, a Catholic school in Paterson. When I was in third grade, I started to think Joe was cute. I liked him a lot. I remember going to the bathroom just so I could walk by his classroom and wave to him. He had dirty blond hair and those green eyes. (That’s where my daughters get their light hair.) I’m not sure if I knew what the word “juicy” meant in third grade, but wow, did I have a big crush on him, and he had one on me.

When my parents would bring us to Joe’s house so they could spend time with his parents, Joe and I would play house in the basement and would always be the parents, which is so funny. My brother Joey, Pete, and Joe’s sister, Maria, would be the kids. Even when we were really little, when the other kids would go upstairs, we would go off in a dark area of the basement and give each other kisses—little pecks. It was so cute.

As Joe and I got older, we liked and dated other people, but we were always in each other’s life. From the time he was thirteen or fourteen, Joe always had a girlfriend. In fact, he had many of them over the years. He was a hot guy—buff, strong, and handsome. He had a ton of friends, worked and made his own money, and had a nice car—a 1987 Thunderbird Turbo Coupe. Since he was so independent and got into trouble from time to time (he would joyride in his parents’ car at thirteen or fourteen!), a lot of girls viewed him as the ultimate bad boy, so of course, everyone wanted to date him. At one point, I remember my mother warning me about him—that he might not be right for me because he was known as such a bad boy. That made me love him even more . . .

When I was seventeen and he was nineteen, we would meet and go down the shore for the day and spend the day on the beach together. There we could kiss all we wanted. I loved seeing him with his shirt off and he told me he loved seeing me in a hot bikini. That same year, he took me out for Valentine’s Day to Shanghai Reds, a fancy restaurant in Weehawken, which is now Chart House. It’s right across the Hudson River from Manhattan, so it has some of the best waterfront views in Jersey. He brought me a dozen red roses—and gave me a beautiful tricolor rose ring. I was so touched that he did that. Giving me that ring was a big deal to me because then I knew I was really special to him.

One thing I really admired about Joe was that he was always willing to help my parents out. He is very handy and can fix anything. I remember he got worried because my dad worked in his tiny repair shop for years with no air-conditioning. So one day Joe showed up and installed an air conditioner over the front door of the store so my dad could have some cool air in there. My father was so grateful to him for doing that. Generosity has always been one of Joe’s best qualities, and every time he made a gesture like this, no matter how big or small, it turned my world upside down.

I think it was better that we both dated other people before we got serious. I think it happened like it was supposed to happen, because I started running into Joe and seeing him at clubs when he was single, for the most part, and I was, too. He was seeing some girls at the time, but they were nothing serious. I was still talking to my ex, a guy I dated on and off for six years after I graduated from high school, but I realized that he wasn’t right for me. (When we broke up once, he sent me twenty-five
dozen
roses, and I didn’t want them. I remember my father yelling at the delivery guy to take them all away!) In the back of my mind, I always thought about Joe. That definitely meant something. I guess it was the same for him, too. We both realized that it just felt right to be with each other.

Joe always treated me well, from the beginning. He always took me to nice places, opened doors for me, grabbed my hand and took the lead, and always gave me roses and jewelry. He is a man’s man, which I love. (Swoon . . .) The more we were together, the closer we got. We were definitely in love at this point and went practically everywhere together. But here was the problem: how to tell our families. The fact that we were dating was a big deal because our families were so close. As Gorgas, we had spent so much time with the Giudices over the years (little did I know, that would be my last name one day!). Joe and I snuck around while we figured out how to tell them how serious we were about each other, because we didn’t know how they were going to take this big newsflash.

Finally, things got so serious between us that Joe decided it was time to let people know we were an item. Joe took me to a big family party—as his date. I think some of his family members were shocked. Everyone was really nice to me, but I could tell they were buzzing about us.

Even though we were nervous about what their reaction would be, my parents said, “If you’re happy, then we’re happy.” Joe’s dad loved hearing that we were together. I think Joe’s mom was a little surprised, but she seemed fine with it, too.

My brother, Joey, was like, “What? You kidding me?” He was surprised but happy for us, too. He hung around with Joe’s brother, Pete, all the time, so they were close. Joey looked up to Joe almost like he was a big brother.

After the families got over their initial shock, everything just fell into place. We both realized that we weren’t meant to be together—really together—before this. It happened when it was the right time. Before that, we were too young, and at different places in our lives. It wouldn’t have worked out, I’m sure. Joe also knew that if he dated me, he would have to treat me really, really well because our families were so close. His dad was over the moon when he found out we were seriously dating. But still, he gave Joe “the talk.” He said, “Make sure you do the right thing with her.” He didn’t want him to hurt me in any way. He told Joe what he knew already: that I wasn’t just a girl to fool around with.

During Memorial Day weekend in 1997, Joe and I went away for his birthday. I wanted to make his birthday extra special, so I arranged to have the place where we were staying totally decorated by the time we got there. The ceiling was covered with balloons. I also had them leave a chilled bottle of champagne there for him. He was so surprised when he walked through the door! He hugged me and kissed me and then . . . well, let’s leave it at this: I was the best birthday gift he’s ever had.

Little did I know that Joe’s plan was to make the weekend even more special. That Saturday night, we went to a restaurant on the water and had a romantic candlelight dinner, drinking and eating filet mignon and lobster until we were stuffed. After dinner, we walked down to the beach and sat on the sand. Joe bought a bottle of champagne from the restaurant bar and brought two glasses with him. I just remember having the most amazing time because we were both madly in love. We were sitting there watching the sunset, listening to the waves crash on the shore, talking and kissing, just the two of us. Everything was so calm, peaceful, and romantic.

We had been drinking for a while, so we were both tipsy. When I saw Joe reach into his sock, I wasn’t sure what he was doing. In a flash, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond ring. I started shaking. He got on one knee and said, “Will you marry me, Teresa?” Of course I said yes. We hugged each other so tight before we lay down in the sand and started kissing again. By now it was dark and there was a huge moon in the sky. Everything was perfect. Right out of a storybook. I couldn’t stop looking at the gorgeous ring he slid onto my finger. Two and a half carats—a round diamond with two pear-shaped diamonds on the sides . . . I was going to get married!

Then I panicked. Despite how much I had had to drink and that this was one of the most memorable and important moments of my life—one I had dreamt of since I was a little girl—I snapped to and was like, “Oh my God! What about my parents?”

Joe put his arms around me and calmed me down. He said that he had already spoken to my father and gotten his blessing. That’s when my dad had “the talk” with Joe. Speaking to him in Italian, he reminded him once again that I was a good girl and that I would be a good wife and mother. Then he took those big hands of his and put them on Joe’s shoulders and gave him those crazy eyes, telling him to always honor and respect me, take care of me and love me with all of his heart, just like he did. Joe assured him that he would do all of those things. They looked at each other and hugged. It was such a warm moment between them. My father had always loved Joe, who looked up to him and respected him so much.

Now that I felt better about everything, we went back to the room and called both sets of parents. They were so excited and happy for us. Our moms, of course, were crying.

When we got back from our trip, we had a gigantic engagement party with all of our families—uncles, aunts, cousins and friends—at Villa Amalfi in Cliffside Park. I loved being engaged to Joe and being by his side. I was so proud to be his fiancée. I couldn’t wait to be his wife. Mrs. Joe Giudice. But first, we had a wedding to plan . . .

I
was so excited—and nervous—on my wedding day, October 23, 1999. I got ready at my parents’ house, trying hard not to cry. I thought my dad was going to lose it when I stepped into the living room wearing my dress, which he had helped me pick out. My mom, who also tried not to cry, kept telling me how happy she and my dad were that I was so in love.

After taking lots of pictures, we got into an elegant Excalibur and headed to the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Newark, one of the most ornate churches I have ever seen. My dad helped me out of the limo and gave me a look that said, “My little girl . . .” I tried hard not to cry.

Joe’s brother, Pete, who was his best man, was standing at the altar with the other groomsmen. My longtime friend Rosanna, my maid of honor, and my eight bridesmaids fixed my train and made sure my bouquet looked good. I was shaking a little bit when the flower girl and the bridesmaids started walking down the aisle, one by one. Then it was my turn! I hooked my arm into my dad’s, and when we heard the wedding march, we started down the long aisle. When I saw Joe standing at the altar waiting for me, he took my breath away. He looked incredibly handsome—and happy, even though I knew he was as nervous as I was.

As my father walked me down the aisle, he was whispering to me in Italian that he was so proud of me and that I was going to be an amazing wife and mother and that I looked more beautiful than he had ever seen me. He also told me he loved me so much. When we got to the altar and it came time to give me a kiss and a hug and give me away, those big, strong hands of his were shaking. He was smiling at me, but had tears in his eyes, too.

Now, you have to understand—this is the man who never cried. My wedding day was the first time he had ever done so in front of me. When I became a mom, I always told my girls that crying is good—a coping mechanism. It’s a way to let your feelings out—and then you feel better. But when I was growing up, tears were a big no-no.

So here I was, moments away from getting married, seeing my father, my rock, crying for the first time in my life. All this pent-up emotion started welling up inside of me, so I started tearing up, too. But I didn’t want to break down in front of everyone in church or mess up my makeup, so I put on a stone face—something I have done many times, especially on the show. But I will never forget how absolutely tender that moment was.

I tried not to get teary-eyed again when Joe and I exchanged vows and the priest pronounced us husband and wife. We shared a romantic kiss up on the altar and walked so proudly and triumphantly down the aisle together. I was now Mrs. Joe Giudice . . . I was someone’s
wif
e. Joe’s wife. The man I had loved my whole life. I felt like the whole thing was a beautiful dream.

We left for our honeymoon in Hawaii early the next morning. Everything felt surreal. I was like, “Are we really married? Are we away together and my parents actually
know
about it?” I felt like I finally could be away with my honey without sneaking around. I was as free as a bird, and so protected and secure with Joe. We were just two kids in love. It was amazing to be away with him and waking up to him in paradise. I really did feel like I was floating in love . . . We had fun taking showers together, swimming, fooling around in the coves (!), and being so carefree with each other.