Transported by Light

All I know is that somehow I have to lift myself from this bed. If I don't, someone, Nunzi no doubt, will come in a few days and find me. Dead.

But how do I move? I bow my head to one side and suddenly, I start to whisper. Very slowly, I say a Hail Mary. I picture the Virgin Mary.

I smile. It has been so many months since I allowed myself to pray. It scares me to think back to what the priest kept saying to me on that terrifying night he came to my parent's house so many months ago.

"You no longer are permitted to pray, do you hear me Filomena? You are unworthy of prayer. So don't you dare say a Hail Mary, or the Lord's prayer. Don't ask for forgiveness. Don't ask for mercy or help. You are filthy in the eyes of the church. Do you hear me? You don't deserve to speak to the Virgin. Or our heavenly Father."

Now I say another Hail Mary. Out loud. And another one. This time I shout it out, and even though my throat still hurts from when I was screaming at Nunzi, I feel better.

As if in reply, the lightning once again fills up the window. The thunder is rumbling, but further away, tossing smaller boulders from the sky.

I smell myself and that is enough. I sit up. I hold my breath against the foul odor. I gaze at the door of my "little den." Suddenly I recall the day when JS found it for me so many months ago. He led me here, he had me close my eyes, cover them with both hands, and then he unlocked the door and brought me inside.

One room, half of it for a bed, and the other half for a woodstove. The ceilings so low that he -- being close to six feet tall -- had to bend over slightly.

I remember he smiled and said, "Filo, now you can be a fox in your own little den." ("Ora puoi essere una volpe nella tua piccola tana!"

I cannnot think back without tears bubbling up again, so I put him out of my mind. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and I take hold of the bottom sheet with both my hands. And then I pull myself up along with the sheet. I sway a little, feel light-headed. I steady myself at the table, and spying a piece of panettone that Giulia left me so many days ago, I scarf it down, stale as it is.

Then I wrap myself in the soiled sheet and I head to the door and outside I am standing in the rain. Good thing it isn't too cold because I am barefoot. I lift my face and the rain drenches me. Soon my hair is soaked through.

Another crack of thunder, and I hurry through the village. I pass through the Arch of Saint Francis of Paola and weave my way toward the water. Why I am going there I wonder. All I know is that the rain is soaking through the sheet and into my nightgown and it is waking me up, making me feel alive for the first time since...

No no, I shake my head, I will make myself forget. I will myself to let go let go let go...

Before I know it, I am at the water's edge. I hear waves sloshing and crashing, I can make out the white froth crawling up the pebbled shore. The rocks hurt my feet, so I stop.

I let the ocean wash over my feet, I step in further, the water covers my calves. I sit down. I do, I sit down in the cold water, I force myself to sit there, I stare out into the blackness that is night and then I see that the lightning has moved way off shore, and the thunder is no more.

I breathe in the salty air. How many times I came here when I was pregnant.

NO, I shake my head, I won't think about that, not now.

I force myself to slip deeper into the water. Now the ocean is up to my swollen breasts, they ache so much, they have leaked for so long. My body is cold, my hands and feet are turning numb, I lean back, and let the water come up and wash me and my sheet and now my hair adn into my .

If I lie here long enough, I will see the sunrise.

Suddenly, I feel so hungry, so empty, my stomach gurgles.

That's when I hear footsteps approaching, shoes crushing into the beach stones. Who could be here at this time of night? Frightened, I sit up. I cover my head with the sheet. It's foolish but it makes me feel safe.

The footsteps stop. I wait. For a moment I think, he's come back after all. He couldn't stay away forever. And he knew exactly where to find me.

"Filo I know that's you." The voice is tired. The voice is more familiar to me than my own.

Slowly, I lift the sheet off my head. I turn. Standing there is Nunzi, holding a small flaming torch. I see her face, the dark eyes, the thick eyebrows.

I whisper. "How did you know to find me here?"

"Oh Filo, for heaven's sake, when you weren't in bed, I knew there was only one other place you could be. Just look at you now, drenched to the bone. Please, come home with me. Both of us need some sleep."

I stand and sheets of water fall from me. I take the sheet off my shoulders and try to wring out the water. Hopeless. I drag it behind me as I follow Nunzi off the beach.

By the time we reach her place, I am exhausted. I leave the sheet outside and follow her inside. Her husband has kept the fire going. I stand there while Nunzi undresses me. Then she wraps me in a clean sheet and covers my head in a towel. She settles me in a low chair by the fire. She brings a blanket and covers me up.

"I...I would love something to eat," I say. "I am famished."

She goes to the woodstove where there is a kettle. She scoops something into a large cup and brings it to me with a spoon. Then she brings me a thick piece of her homemade bread.

Soon I am devouring the most delicious minestra I've ever eaten.

And when I've finished, she brings me a second cup. And more bread. And a slice of cheese.

After eating, she doesn't need to instruct me. I lie back, and sleep comes more easily than ever before.