Now the Good Girl Gets Her Due!

The next morning, I wake in semi-darkness and the first thing I realize is that I forgot to take my precious diary home with me from the villa after yesterday's horror! "Oh dear God in heaven, what will I do without it? And what will I do without him?" I wail out loud, and thankfully Mama must be out or still asleep because she doesn't appear.

I lay there feeling more alone than I ever have before. How has it come to pass that I cannot even imagine telling my dear Nunzi about Giovanni and what happened with him in the ocean?

I cringe every time I relive those endless moments of terror when the old man just kept screaming and screaming.

And then I think about G unbuttoning and caressing me. I can still feel his warm lips on my bare skin. In a matter of a few minutes in the sea, he brought me from being an innocent girl to a woman. And now I feel imprisoned by my love for him!

I hear the door open, Mama is coming in from outdoors. I inhale. I cannot possibly tell her what happened. She would be furious and mortified and God knows what else!

She knocks and pushes open my door.

I sit up and force myself to smile.

"Well, you are awake early today!" Mama sits down on the edge of my bed.

I keep smiling and give her a tight hug. I smell oregano and basil on her clothes. And something else. Her skin smells lemony.

"Will you be going to the villa today Fi? If so, you better get up and have a little something to eat before you leave."

I close my eyes. What will I say? I had told her that Giovanni was leaving next week, but I also told her that I would be going to the villa each day this week.

"Actually, Mama, I think I will be staying here today. As it turns out, Giovanni doesn't need me and I think I will pay a visit to Nunzi."

That's enough to satisfy her. She leaves, saying she will make me cafe. I dress quickly in one of my sack-like dresses and go into the kitchen for the wooden bucket. I disappear out the door and walk as slowly as possible to the town fountain, and take my time filling the bucket with water.

As I return home, I feel myself sinking deep into a morass (a word G taught me recently) of confusion and sadness. I feel like I am drowning with love for Giovanni and I know now for certain that I want very much to be his wife. But how can that possibly happen when his father is such an intolerable monster, full of hatred for Giovanni.

For the first time, it occurs to me just how impossible a situation I am in with G. I do think he loves me, but that's not the point. He really is an aristocrat, and me, I am just a poor young girl from Paola. Giovanni -- and his many friends -- have showed me that the world is so much wider and more interesting than I ever imagined. Giovanni has the power to transform me from a humble peasant into an aristocrat. But now I know that will never happen -- because I will never be welcome in his world, especially by his father!

Standing outside the door, I inhale again. I can't let Mama know about any of this. So after I wash my face in cold water, and soap and rinse my hands, I smile and sit down with her, determined to act as normally as I can while we sip our cafe and I eat a hunk of bread and provolone for breakfast.

By the time I finish eating, I am starting to feel like I will explode if I don't unload my burden. That's when it occurs to me: I must go to St. Francis, to seek out Father Crudele. I must ask him if I can say confession.

Telling Mama I am going to Nunzi's, I leave and make my way to the church. I try the door, and alas, it's locked. I consider knocking but realize right away how foolish that would be. I consider going to the rectory, but that is even more out of the question. No one disturbs the crabby old priest before the church opens its doors.

And so once again, I go down to the ocean. I unlace my boots, take off my stockings and feel the warm sand between my toes. The sun is sparkling on the water, and birds are diving for fish. I walk about a kilometer, and find the salty air and the waves have a calming effect.

Stopping at some rocks, I sit down in the sand. I wish Nunzi were here with me. But the more I think about it, I'm convinced that Nunzi would be horrified by what transpired with G yesterday. Dropping back on the sand, I know that I must say a confession and simply make a promise to myself that no matter how much I love him, I will never seek out Giovanni's company again.

I lay down in the sand and feel the sun warming my face. I fall asleep in the sand and when I wake up, the sun is overhead. I feel like my cheeks are burning. I brush the sand off my dress and walk back down the beach. At the town center, I put on my socks and lace up my boots and head for the church. The door is open, and with my heart hammering, I walk inside. Empty, of course.

Should I search for Crudele or just wait until he happens to come into the sanctuary? I take a seat up front, and then decide that I will kneel before the statue of the Virgin Mary and I will pray. When Papa died, that is how I would fall asleep at night, saying Hail Marys over and over and over again. I think I learned how to pray in my sleep!

I have my eyes closed, and I am deeply concentrating on praying when I hear shoes at the front of the Church. For a moment I think I won't open my eyes, because I am suddenly terrified thinking about what I have set out to do. Will I tell Father Crudele everything? And if I do, who knows what the priest will say?

"Hello my child." I open my eyes and Father Crudele is there in front of me. "What brings you here today?"

I stare at him but can't bring myself to speak. Finally he turns. "I don't have all day you know."

"Oh, uh, yes, Father, I wondered if I might...say confession." I speak quietly, and for some reason, I suddenly start sneezing.

"I'm sorry, what did you say? Speak up Filomena!"

I finish sneezing. I inhale. "I need to say confession."

His eyebrows rise. "Oh, I see. Well, give me a few minutes and I will meet you at the confessional."

The next few minutes go so very slowly. Half-way down the aisle, I am full of doubt. Why am I putting myself in the hands of the priest? At least if I had told Mama what happened with G, I know Mama loves me! And while she might be angry, I know she would forgive me. Or Nunzi! I could have told Nunzi too. What am I thinking?

But now I reach the rear of the Sanctuary, and I am staring at the small box with the red curtain over the priest's door. And on the floor, the wooden kneeler. I approach and set my knees in place. As usual, my knees ache almost immediately. I clasp my hands and wait for the priest to slide back the grill.

What will I say? I start another Hail Mary, asking her for guidance. And the grill slides.

"Yes, child, what do you want to tell me?"

I inhale. My heart slams against my breastbone. I make the Sign of the Cross and speak.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago."

I stop. He says nothing. I suck in a big breath and keep going.

"You know I am a good girl, Father, but I have fallen in love with a man and he has kissed me on the lips and on the neck...and...on the...ch...chest... And I would like to marry him but I am not sure that is possible. And I lied to Mama once." I decide that's all I need to say, and even though I expect all hell to break loose now that I have confessed, I already feel a bit better. Saying it all out loud, I have let go of the guilt, or at least of some of it, and I am rather buoyant (another word G taught me!)

Still, my hands are clammy, and sweat is sprouting under my arms and around my neck. When the priest doesn't speak right away, I wonder if by some chance he hasn't heard me. How could that be? Will I have to repeat myself? A pain starts up at the base of my neck and rises like a fountain up into the top and sides of my head. Dread descends over me like rain. And then he speaks.

"Filomena, I'd like to explain something to you," the priest begins. "You are speaking about a man who has been very generous to the church. So very generous! He is a man of the highest caliber. All of us here in Paola owe him a great debt. When you agreed to become his housekeeper, you assured me that you knew how to behave. And yet here you are telling me now that you have seduced this benefactor. I am gravely disappointed in you, because you have failed to restrain yourself. How could you let this happen? Who said anything to you about falling in love? Where did you get the idea that a man of his aristocratic station would go looking for a wife among the peasant stock of Paola?"

His words land like lit matches setting my face on fire. I begin to shudder, waves flooding me from my neck to my knees. All I want to do is to flee the confessional and the church and race to the ocean and dive into the greenish blue waves and maybe never come up and certainly never have anything to do with the priest or Giovanni ever again. Slowly, the tears start to well up in my eyes. I want to protest against what Crudele said, I want to tell him -- scream at him -- that I never "seduced" Giovanni, oh that is so absolutely untrue, but I realize Crudele too is a monster and won't believe a word I say!

The priest continues.

"You will say ten Our Fathers, and besides that you will say the Rosary, twice a day, morning and evening, for the next 30 days. As you pray, remind yourself that you come from the most humble origins, and that you will act the part of a decent young domestic. You do your job, and you let go of the rest of this foolish and dangerous nonsense inside your head. Is that clear?"

I am sniffling now and having no handkerchief, I am wiping my nose on my dress.

"Y...yes," I whisper.

, "Speak up, please."

"YES!" I scream and then it happens. I just keep screaming! "DAMMIT FATHER, I NEVER SEDUCED GIOVANNI, he's the one who kissed me!!! This is so damn unfair!" And then I utter another cry, one more like that of a gorilla than a girl. And I do another unthinkable thing, I flee the confessional before saying my Act of Contrition, and before the priest can absolve my of my sins.

I burst out of the door of the church and I run, heading straight back to the sea! I will let the waves absolve me!

Oh If Only I Had Been Swallowed by the Sea!!!

Crying again. It seems like I finally patch myself together only to discover a new memory of my last visit to the villa -- and then I am thrown back into a sea of tears and I think I will never survive!

It was so so stupid of me to go back to the villa in the last week Giovanni was there with his miserable father! Oh if only I could let go of the whole thing, but how can I put aside the episode straight from hell?

And now, I see myself writing again and when I move the pen across the white paper I do indeed stop crying. So I guess I've got to write it all down. Otherwise I will drown in it for sure.

I blame what happened on the weather. Well part of it.

After that Monday when I first learned Giovanni was being forced to leave the villa, I felt like I had lost the floor beneath me. I had gotten so accustomed to riding in the bouncy carriage each morning and seeing G six times a week! I thought it was unspeakably unfair that Alessandro the Great had decided to kick his son out of the villa. Like G, I was ready to hate the man even before I set eyes on him. And after I "met" him -- well let's just say, that's another very very sorry story.

For three days straight, it rained like it would never stop. Big ropes of water fell from the deep grey sky, and it just kept on raining. G and I had an understanding that if the weather was "bad, really really bad," -- "male, daverro molto male," I was not to come to the villa. So for those three days it rained I stayed home. I wrote a poem or two each day. I helped Mama clean and wax all the floors and I went next door and helped Signora Baptista to do the same. I also visited Nunzi and we made ravioli the first day, and the next day we cooked up a cod stew and Mama jointed me and Nunzi and her husband Luigi and her four kids, and we had a blessed feast!

The next morning the sun was shining bright in a sky that looked like it had been scrubbed clean. It was getting very hot, though. By the time I left to meet the carriage at 11, the sun was a white beast in the sky. In addition to bringing my journal, which I did every day I went to the villa, I decided to carry my bathing costume with me, as I was hoping that G and I would have time to plunge into the sea. It was something that he kept promising me, but we had not done.

As I rode to the villa, I was practically upside down with excitement. I think down deep I realized that it might be my last trip.

When I got out of the carriage, and knocked on the giant carved door, I don't know what I was expecting. Truthfully, I was nervous. I didn't want to come face to face with Giovanni's father. I stood there waiting for Pietro to answer the door, but no one came. I knocked again, and finally, Sofia opened the door. She wasn't any happier to see me than I was to see her.

"I was supposed to work today," I said, and Sofia smirked. What a dumb thing for me to say to her! In that moment, I realized that perhaps Giovanni had been wrong to tell me to come to the villa this week.

Sofia and I stood there in an awkward silence for a few moments. And then I decided I would simply go downstairs to the kitchen and talk to Giuseppi. I could always trust him to tell me the truth, and to make me feel better!

When I got to the kitchen, however, Giuseppi was packing up some pots and pans in the kitchen. My heart fell like a large stone into my stomach.

"Oh Giuseppi don't tell me you're leaving too!"

He looked at me forlornly. "Ah but what can I do? I'm afraid there is no more reason for me to be here, now that Giovanni is leaving. Perhaps when he comes back, but who knows..." He shrugged his shoulders, and I realized how sad he was too!

My mouth suddenly went so dry that it felt shrunken. "But Giuseppi, he is coming back isn't he?"

"Of course he is!" I turned. Giovanni was standing there, smiling his charming smile. My eyes went wide, and without deciding, I simply ran into his arms. I wanted to hold onto him forever.

"Oh how I've missed you Giovanni! It's been the longest three days of my life. But now that Giuseppi is closing up shop here in the kitchen, what will I do? I have no job!"

G backed away from me, but held onto my shoulders. His eyes looked bright and hopeful. He was wearing the powder blue shirt that I love so much, but this time without the leather vest. Oh how I wanted to rest my fact there on his chest!

"Fi," he said, "I hope that you will be able to go back to the jobs that you had before I met you! And then when I come back, you will of course have work with me once more."

I stared into those hypnotic blue green eyes. Didn't he realize that I would be completely miserable without him? Didn't he know that his life might be full of excitement and travel and what have you, but mine would go back to being flat and oh so boring! I inhaled slowly and shook my head. "Yes, it might take me a while but I will find something."

But nothing like this! I wanted to scream and jump up and down and stamp my feet. But I forced myself to be still, and to hold my head high. I would not start acting like a spoiled child.

While we were speaking, Giuseppi was busy doing something and now I noticed that he had set two places at the small table in the kitchen. He was carrying two plates to the table and setting them down.

We turned around and he pointed to the table. He was pouring two glasses of wine, and supplying us with a basket of bread.

So of course, we had to eat the delightful cold salad that he had prepared, tender lettuce topped with tomatoes and chunks of chicken and chopped parsley and other fresh herbs. He left the kitchen so as not to disturb us as we ate. Truthfully, I wasn't that hungry, but I ate nonetheless. Later, after we finished, G leaned over and said to me, "So while you are here, Fi, why don't we go upstairs and we can write together?"

He said nothing about his father being anywhere around, so I decided there was nothing to worry about. I followed him upstairs and out to the terrace, where we went to the furthest palm tree. We sat at the table in the deepest shade. It was unspeakably warm, and the wine had made my head swim a bit. I was hardly able to contain my excitement as I opened my journal. This was it, were we perhaps writing together for the last time?

"So how about a sonnet by Petrarch?" He was paging through a thick leather book edged in gold, just like my journal. I wanted so badly to hold this moment in my heart forever, him reading to me under the palms at the start of another writing session!

"Whatever you say," I replied. He began reading and I set my eyes on his mouth, and relished thinking about kissing those soft lips. But then I heard the words he was reading and I knew I had to listen closely:

"Bitter tears pour down my face

with an anguished storm of sighing,

when my eyes chance to turn on you

through whom alone I am lost from the world.

"Yet it is true that your soft gentle smile

quiets my ardent desires,

and saves me from the fire of suffering,

while I am intent and fixed on gazing.

But then my spirits are chilled, when I see,

at your departure, my fatal stars

turn their sweet aspect from me.

Released at last by those loving keys,

the spirit leaves the heart to follow you,

and in deep thought, walks on from there."

It was as though the poem was an arrow shot straight into my heart. Without any warning, I started to weep! Yes, bitter tears did indeed pour down my face! I had no armor, no protection to keep me from the fire of suffering, a fire that was now erupting inside. I covered my face with my hands and tried to get ahold of myself.

"Oh my dear Filomena, I am so sorry that you are feeling so sad! My heart aches for you, truly! But if it makes any difference, I am sad too about leaving you!"

I shook my head and tried to catch my breath. Finally I spoke. "Yes, yes, I am sad and thank you for saying you are too but..." and here came something I had not expected to say. "But honestly, Giovanni, I am so glad too that I have had this great opportunity to be here at the villa, to know you, and to write with you and your extraordinary friends!" I dropped my chin to my chest. "It's just...I never wanted it to end." My last words were breathless. I sat there, and G took my hands into both of his as tears crawled down my face.

He let a few moments go by like that and then he took a beautiful yellow handkerchief from his pocket, made from the softest cotton, and handed it to me. I wiped my face and he whispered: "And so, Fi, shall we write about these feelings we are both having?"

I smiled at him, so happy that he was freely acknowledging I wasn't alone in my sadness. I shook my head yes. And then, armed with the fountain pen from heaven, I dove into my diary with a headwind at my back. Words flew onto the page. I was in turn despondent (a word that I had first heard G use some weeks back!); I was outraged, and happy too with all the memories I was carrying away from the villa. Here is what I wrote:

"Will someone please tell me to stop crying? But how do I patch up this hole that is quickly widening in my heart now that G will no longer be living at the villa. I would give my little finger (at least) to have him stay here forever, with me visiting almost every day. But because of his monstrous father -- I would definitely say I'd rather he never existed except that then my precious G wouldn't either -- Giovanni will no longer send the carriage for me each morning at 11. And I won't be able to sit here at this spectacular villa, at the table in the shade of the palms, and pour my soul out onto paper. Or work for the delightful Giuseppi in the kitchen. Oh God which finger do you want? I'd say take them all but make sure it's those of the left hand, otherwise, I wouldn't be able to write! The whole of me is lost, yes, now I have said it, I will also say this: I so fear the dead feeling when I wake up next week and realize that all of this is over. Who knows, will my dear Giovanni ever return?"

When he asked me to read, I bit my lower lip. I didn't dare reveal myself to him, not when I was on the brink of tears. "I think that I" -- I shook my head back and forth slowly -- "I would rather not read today," I said, my voice as unsteady as the wind. "I hope you understand."

He sat there quietly, and then, he lifted my hand -- the one with the pen in it -- and kissed it long and hard. After a while, he spoke. "I will be back Fi, just you wait and see!"

And then a wild desire took hold of me. "Giovanni," I said, "I brought my bathing costume. Can we please please go swimming, right now? You know how often you have said we would!" He agreed at once, and so we vacated the table and entered the cool villa. He pointed to the bathroom (what a luxury) at the far corner of the pink marble foyer.

"I'll meet you at the top of the stairs outdoors!"

While I was changing my clothes, it occurred to me once again to ask him what had happened to his father? But once more, with Giovanni looking so relaxed, I assumed that perhaps the ancient dragon had gone home where he belonged!!

We met at the top of the stairs -- the heat was unbearable, the air thick and moist, and we raced down to the welcoming sea. G was way ahead of me in the hot sand. He threw two towels down and jumped into the waves, which were higher than those I was used to. With his long legs he galloped quickly into the ocean. He dove underwater and surfaced and swam way out with a very strong crawl stroke. I followed him, diving into the water the way I used to when I was a little girl.

The water was so cool, such a welcome relief on my overheated skin. Coming up, however, a giant wave slapped me in the face when I had my mouth open so seawater shot way down my throat.

By now, Giovanni had disappeared from view.

So often I have to work all day, and then there is always something else to do. It's not often I swim! But here now I felt the water all around me and loved it. I swelled up and down with a wave. I pushed forward and moved my arms the way Mama once taught me, in a breast stroke. And then another, sinking up and down in the water.

But then another wave crashed over my head, and into my nose the water flew and my whole head burned inside and I just plain panicked. I tried to touch down on the ocean bottom but there was no bottom there. I had come out too far too fast! I am not a strong swimmer like Giovanni, and now the waves kept slapping me in the face and filling my nose and mouth with salt water. I was splashing and trying to do another breast stroke but I just kept sinking deeper into the water, bouncing like a tiny cork in the strong waves.

"HELP!" I screamed, waving my arms. "GIOVANNI HELP HELP HELP ME!" I was terrified, certain that I was going to drown, because he was nowhere around and I was sinking fast. "HELP HELP HELP," I screamed and then my mouth filled again and I swallowed and went down through the wave and couldn't fight my way up. Water was everywhere in my mouth, my nose. I was drowning, I was certain of it, I was going to die, and here I was so young, and what would happen to Mama and Nunzi without me?

And then suddenly something caught the back of my bathing gown, and I could feel myself being dragged. I was thoroughly weak with fright so I let myself just float in the water, being pulled, and the next thing I knew my face was up in the air and I was coughing and spitting up and gasping and choking.

And there above me was Giovanni holding the back of my head. I couldn't catch my breath, I was terrified because I just couldn't get air to breathe and then he flung me around on my belly and he pummeled hard on my back with the flat of his hand.

I vomited, I could see chunks of chicken and lettuce and tomato floating in front of my face. And then, when all of the food had cleared, I spit out and felt a pinch of my breath return. He put an arm around me and moved me a few feet and then I was in the water on my knees and Giovanni was saying "please please breathe Filo, take another breath," and I did, I inhaled, and coughing up more water, and throwing up some more and gasping again, and coughing, I finally breathed again. And again. After a few moments, when I had breathed several times, I just knelt there trembling and feeling air swell into my lungs.

"Grazie a Dio," Giovanni said, and he turned me around and held me so tightly in his arms and I just gave into his embrace. I rested that way for a long time, so grateful to be alive, so grateful for him. Finally he released me. And holding onto my face, he very gently laid his lips on mine, and kissed me for a long time, more deeply than ever before, so that I finally had to pull away so I could breathe again.

"You are an angel," he whispered. "Did you know that? You are my angel, straight from heaven!"

"Sei il un angelo. Lo sapevi? Sei il mio angelo, dirattamente dal cielo!"

I knew with my whole self at that moment, that I was so deeply in love with this man who had saved my life in so many ways. I wanted desperately, in that moment, to be his wife, to be part of him, to share with him my whole body and soul, forever.

He took me by my shoulders, and I felt no more like a little girl again, but a completely grown woman.

"Turn around," he said, and I did as he commanded. I felt him take the hairpins out of my braid, one by one. And then he undid the braid completely, so that my long wavy hair billowed out into the greenish blue water. My hair covered my shoulders almost down to my hands. He gathered my hair into his arms and gently pulled me toward his chest. He twirled me around and lifted my hair and I rested there while he kissed my neck over and over again. I didn't for a moment protest.

Finally, I realized that he was starting to unbutton my bathing gown. My heart was beating strong, and I knew I should stop him there. But I was weak with desire for him.

"Please Giovanni," I said. "I adore you, but... shouldn't we... go back onto dry land?"

"And why should we do that my darling Filomena? He kept kissing my hand and then he slipped my bathing gown over my shoulders baring my breasts to his face. He buried himself there and I realized I was starting to feel faint.

But I had to force myself, I had to face the fact that Giovanni would soon remove my bathing gown, I knew what I had to do and with the last bit of energy inside me, I pushed his face away from my chest. "Please Giovanni, we cannot...you cannot...I cannot...please no!" I wriggled out of his embrace, and turned slowly, holding my gown next to my chest.

And what happened next was without a doubt the absolute worst thing, barring none, that has ever happened to me!

A really loud shout -- a long wailing call -- went up from the beach, a wild animal unleashed! "G-G-GI-I-I-I-OH OH OH -- VANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNIIIIIII" And then a flood of the worst Italian blasphemy my ears had ever heard.

Giovanni and I turned to face the wrathful father that he hated so much! My mouth dropped open to see the man screaming and shaking his hands at the heavens. In so many words he said that Giovanni was the worst thing that had ever been visited on his life! And he even swore at the wife now deceased who had made him and who had then conveniently abandoned him to deal with this young son of a bitch alone! And here now, he screamed, his filthy son was actually screwing some "puttana" from the town, out in the open ocean for everyone to see!

At that moment, I was so mortified that I almost wished that I had drowned a few minutes before! How could this be happening to me? I quickly pulled my bathing gown up and over my shoulders and holding it against my breasts, I followed Giovanni meekly out of the water. I took a wide circle around the raving maniac, keeping my face low, looking away, and hurried to the staircase, where I raced up the stairs. I had left G to face his father alone, I know, I was a total coward but how could I possibly have helped him at that moment, what with that ungodly man STILL SCREAMING about his maniac of a son who was fooling around, screwing some common 'puttana' from the town..."

Where had Alessandro been earlier in the day? I was never to learn his whereabouts while G and I were writing. Why had he come down to the beach? The only thing I can figure is that he had heard me crying for help. But perhaps not.

As I got dressed, trembling, my clothes sticking to my wet skin, I wasn't sure what to do, how to get out of the villa and home. Should I ask Giuseppi for help getting the carriage?

I was so scared, so upset, that once I was dressed and had my shoes on, I left the villa carrying my wet bathing costume, and my long hair sticking to my shoulders and arms, and I set off walking and I walked the whole way back to Paola! It seemed to take forever, it seemed like the worst possible dream, the road would never ever end. I would say that my feet were sore, because they were sore for days afterward, but while I walked I didn't feel anything, nothing but a thick grey confusion about what had happened and an overriding shame, that I came so close to letting Giovanni take me completely into his embrace.

When I arrived home, my face swollen red from crying, Mama was petrified. I fell into her arms and let her hold me like a baby. And then something blissful happened. I fell into a deep sleep, brought on I suppose by my near death, by my deep encounter with G, by the madness of the raving father straight from hell.

I am Just a Fool, Crying and Writing

I am writing and I am crying and I hope the writing will help me stop crying.

By now, I should know enough not to expect anything to come of my friendship with Giovanni. I call it a friendship for a good reason. I am not supposed to think about it as anything else. How many times have Nunzi and Mama reminded me that he and I are from such different worlds!

I thought I had learned not to expect anything, but I was kidding myself. I didn't ever think this blissful life at the villa would end, but now it has!

Where do I begin?

It started last week. First though I should say that I've known Giovanni since the second week of February, February 7th to be exact, and now it is the end of May. I have counted the days. 113. I know I shouldn't do this. Keep track of the days. But I keep telling myself that it will help me to keep things in perspective.

Why I thought that I don't know. It makes no sense. Oh heck, I am just a fool.

OK. It was last Monday. I had a pleasant Sunday at home with Mama, and then visiting with Nunzi. She told me she was proud of me, that I was working for Giovanni and writing with him and his friends. She said I seemed to be staying level-headed. I agreed.

How could I have foreseen Monday's terrible sadness?

I met the carriage at 11 a.m. as I always do, on the road to San Lucido. It was such a bright and beautiful day in May; I noticed how blue blue the sky was. I smelled spring in the air, like a soft veil falling over everything.

I am wandering. But there is something I need to say up front: I have not taken this job, and this relationship with Giovanni for granted. Every morning when I kneel beside my bed to pray, I thank God that I have had the chance to improve my writing. I thank God for all the people that I've met through him. I thank God, too, for the job Giovanni gave me in the kitchen. And I thank God that Giovanni has shown me love. I know he cares for me and it isn't because he kisses my hand, and it isn't because he holds me in his arms as we ride home in the carriage together (but not every night!)

It's because he listens so carefully to everything I write. He listens to what I have to say. He listens to what I think, even if I don't always have enough background (or education!) to have what he calls an "informed opinion."

Back to Monday. I arrived at the villa and noticed that there were three or four large trunks stacked by the front door. I didn't think anything of it. So often, Giovanni has guests!

But when I got to the door, Pietro opened it looking very strange. He usually smiles at me and asks me about my day. But that morning, he stood like a wooden statue.

"Bongiorno," I said. He nodded his head and said nothing. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I held back.

It wasn't long before I found out. I heard shouting coming from the terrace. Instantly I felt scared. In all the weeks I've been coming to the villa, I cannot remember a single day when people shouted, or didn't get along (oh well there was that couple, Claudia and Filippo, but they really didn't present too much agita. And they were gone so quickly.)

I stood in the large entry room, the one with all the beautiful pink marble. I was frozen. I could see Giovanni through the glass doors, which were closed. I could hear him speak but I could not make out what he was saying. And I could hear the other voice -- it belonged to an older man, tall, grey, who was also visible through the doors.

"I won't tolerate your insolence and I am determined to..." and then the old man turned and the words were muffled.

And then Giovanni was speaking again but in a plain tone. He wasn't shouting. But he was standing there with his arms folded defiantly across his chest.

I panicked. Normally when I arrive I saunter onto the terrace and there are anywhere from two to six or seven writers present. And here today there was no one but this old man yelling his head off.

"Who is he?" and "Where should I go?" were the first questions in my mind. I ran down to the kitchen and when I got there Giuseppi was stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious.

"Oh, Giuseppi, who is that awful man shouting at Giovanni?" I said, my heart pumping.

He shook his head. He set the spoon down and took a seat at the counter. "That man is Giovanni's father," he said. "And he showed up yesterday without any warnng!"

"Wow," I said. "I can see why Giovanni wants nothing to do with him."

Giuseppi nodded. "Yes, well, his father thinks he is God, and like God, He rules." I wanted to ask why he was yelling but part of me was afraid he would tell me that somehow it was my fault! Somehow he knew that I wasn't working in the laundry the way I was supposed to. As I think about that now, I see how incredibly silly I am being. Why would he even know?

"And...what is his name?" I asked, sheepishly.

"Alessandro. Giovanni refers to him as Alessandro the Great!"

I had so many questions but I was tongue-tied. Somehow, I was afraid that he, Alessandro, was going to stand in the way of my coming to the villa.

"Should I...go home?" I whispered. I felt so uncomfortable. So scared.

"No, I don't think you should leave," Giuseppi said. "Why don't you put on an apron and we can make some bread?"

I smiled. I can always count on Giuseppi to make me feel better!

So I put on an apron and we made an egg bread, with chunks of tomato and green olives in it. After we slipped the loaves into the giant oven, Giuseppi announced that it was time for lunch. So we ate arugula salads with anchovies and shaved parmesan, with the most delicious tomatoes I've ever tasted. He dressed the salad in olive oil and lemon. And he poured each of us a glass of white wine!

To finish, we enjoyed a cafe, and by that point, I was feeling very relaxed.

But that's when Giovanni appeared in the kitchen. So much for relaxation!

His face was a sad cloud. He was pale and his mouth hung down at each corner. He was frowning, too. I looked at him, wondering what to say. His hands were deep in the pockets of his linen pants.

"I can't stand another minute with him. He is ignorant and insensitive. Thank God I don't have to live with him anymore!"

I stood up. "Can I give you a hug?" I asked, looking up at him. He smiled, and embraced me. We stood that way for a few moments.

"Would you care to go for a walk with me by the ocean?" he asked. I was just delighted.

Before we left the kitchen, hand in hand, he turned to me and said, "Filomena you mean the world to me!" His comment made me soar.

He led me out through a side door so that we wouldn't risk bumping into his father. I had no idea that there was a second staircase down to the water! This one is quite small, and it isn't surrounded by gardens or palm trees.

Ah, to be in the sand again, holding his hand, and just walking. It was blissful! We walked for quite a while before he started talking.

"So my father has been getting what he called 'reports' about my 'excessive' entertainment. I asked him who made these reports and naturally he wouldn't say. But hey, we know who it is. Of course we do! I rue the day I told Claudia she could visit." His voice rose and he stopped walking and lifted both hands in the air and shook them back and forth. "She is a snake," he shouted, "that woman is a goddamn snake!"

I was stunned. I had never heard Giovanni get angry before. He has always been so calm, so loving with all of his friends! I didn't think he was capable of this kind of vile. But he was so upset -- his face was flushed and the words kept rushing out! "I should have cut her out of my life a long time ago. Because she's always sung the same song. She's always been an absolute bitch who only cares about herself. Always spreading lies and stories about people I love. The worst part is that I knew full well after what happened that day she taunted you about what you wrote, I knew she would make things difficult for me! I just knew it. Why was I stupid enough to have opened the house to her, to the two of them. I tell you Fi I will be much more selfish from here on."

"Oh I ...I am so so sorry Giovanni, I am sorry that I brought this on you. I wish there was something I could do. A way I could help."

Slowly he turned to face me. His face relaxed. "Your being here helps, Filomena. Just that!" He bent over and kissed my cheek. "And this isn't your fault. It was bound to happen sooner or later that my father found out about my 'decadent and bohemian lifestyle.' Just because I'm not slaving away in one of his fabric factories! He resents the fact that I actually enjoy my life!"

We kept walking. After a bit he spoke again.

"I'm sorry to spew so much venom toward her," he said quietly. "It is not something I do very often."

"No, I know that. I've...I've never seen you so...angry before."

Giovanni inhaled and then heaved a large sigh. "Yes, well, there is more. It's not simply Claudia. It's him. Alessandro the Great. It's a terrible thing to hate your father, Filomena. But he seems to do things just so I will hate him more. Before my dear mother passed, she kept him in check. I didn't realize how much she reined him in."

I realized that I had a question for him and I decided it was ok to ask it.

"So is he insisting you return to Florence to work for the family?"

"Oh, well, yes, he continues to insist on that, but it will never happen. Thank the good Lord that my mother left me money in a trust that he cannot possibly touch. She knew how much I wanted to be an artist, and so she provided for me. She was such an incredible lady." He stopped walking and his chin dropped to his chest. "I don't know what I would do if I was forced to work for him. I don't even want to think about that possibility!"

We walked further down the beach. The sun was getting low, and there was a golden glow on the waves. The crush of the waves, over and over, felt comforting to me. What he said next, however, threw me into a total panic.

"I cannot stay here anymore Filomena. My father, bless his soul, has effectively kicked me out of the villa. Starting next week, I must arrange to pack my things and move out."

"But...but what does this mean? Are you...will you be...leaving?" I held my breath.

"For a time. I've got to go back to Florence. But I'm definitely going to return. And I'm determined to find a place of my own, somewhere near this lovely town."

I felt energy start draining out of me as if I had suddenly sprouted a leak! I wanted to shout and stamp my feet. I wanted to scream "You CAN'T GO, YOU JUST CAN'T!!!! I didn't want him to leave. Not for a week, a day, not at all. But what could I say?

"I...I will miss you Giovanni." I dropped his hand and walked into the ocean up to my knees. My dark skirt was wet and clinging to my legs. I stood perfectly still. I was going to miss him so much. And I would miss my job and all those days, writing on the terrace. The thought of going back to my old life suddenly felt scary.

"I will miss you too, Filomena. But I promise you that I will be back!" He strode into the water and stood beside me, his lanky arm resting across my shoulder.

There was only one question to ask: "When? When will you be back?"

"I can't say for certain right now. But soon. Before the summer is over for sure."

Oh God. Here it was May. The summer was three months long! And how could he be sure he was coming back at all?

Now it was sunset and with each wave I was getting more and more wet. And cold. "OK, then." I turned and wrapped my arms around him.

"Must I say goodbye today?"

"Heavens, no. I'm going to be here another week, Fi. Please don't stop coming to the villa. Promise me?"

I shook my head yes. "I will come. I will miss you, so so much, Giovanni, but I will also miss writing with you and your wonderful friends!"

"Well this isn't the end of all that, Fi." He took my hand between his two. "I will return, and I promise you that I will find a place that will be all mine, one to accommodate me and my friends and of course you too! I will not bend to my father's tyranny, I promise you that!"

A chill went up my body. The bottom of my skirt was getting wetter. "I am so glad to hear that Giovanni. And now I am freezing, I think I best be getting home."

We walked back along the beach to the villa in silence. Over and over in my head played the same silent refrain, "He says he'll come back, but will he really?"

He led me up the back staircase and out to the front driveway. Soon the carriage was there, and I was riding back home, alone. The prospect of Giovanni's departure started to feel very real. And so awfully sad.

As I climbed down from the carriage a few minutes later, I felt like the world was already beginning to close in on me. How could I possibly go back to my old life?

But I was determined not to present a sad face to Mama. I inhaled, and started for home. As I walked, I heard the first line of a poem start up in my mind:

"Lie there long enough and you will start to think the bed is yours, even if it isn't."

The thought of writing it down in my journal gave me fresh hope. No matter what, I would keep writing!

I hurried quickly toward home. Mama had a plate of polenta with spaghetti sauce waiting for me. I didn't say a word about what was happening at the villa. There was time for that.

After dinner, I retreated into my bedroom, opened my journal and wrote a poem. It wasn't very special, but it filled me with comfort to know that I could continue to have a writing life, even if I was all alone.

And as I expected, writing all of this has helped dry my tears. Outside the sun is a bright white ball in a hazy sky. Now that I have gathered my wits together, I think I will visit dear Nunzi, it's time!!!

What Happens When Filomena is a Bit Too Honest!

For weeks and weeks, I was unspeakably happy. I saw Giovanni six days a week. I sat on the terrace and wrote with him, or with him and his companions, a random collection of friends and relatives who seemed to change day by day or week by week. They all seemed to be as free-spirited as he was. I didn't mind working in the afternoons, because I liked Giuseppi so much, and because he never gave me a task that was overly taxing.

I filled a couple dozen pages of my leather journal. I felt like it was getting eastier for me to write all the time. I'm proud of what I wrote, well most of it.

There was that day that I embarrassed Giovanni, although I certainly never intended to! It was a Wednesday, the first week in May. The weather was really starting to get warm, and so when we were writing on the terrace, we sat at a cluster of small round tables under the palm trees. That day, I think there were seven of us. Tullio and Edoardo were back, but now there was a couple, Ana Maria and her husband, Benito. They were so nice to me. Ana Maria, who is a portrait artist, made a special effort to talk to me. One morning she asked me to walk on the beach with her in the afternoon (we went after I finished kitchen duty.)

As we walked in the sand, she told me some interesting stories about Florence, where she and Benito live. She described to me the Ponte Vecchio, the old bridge which crosses the Arno River. The bridge is very famous, and it is filled with jewelry makers, and artists like her who do portraits for visiting tourists. The reason Ana Maria described the bridge is because that's where Benito asked her to marry him three years ago.

And then she told me that she was expecting a baby! I was so thrilled for her, and so proud that she considered me friend enough to hear her exciting news!

There were a few other interesting people too. Matteo -- he and Giovanni have been friends since they were little boys -- is a musician. Unlike G, who is very tall, Matteo is a very small man, like about my height (a bit more than 5 feet!). The wonderful thing about him is that he writes librettos for operas! He doesn't sit on the terrace with us, but rather, occupies a sunroom in another section of the villa. But at noon every day, he joins us when we break for cafe!

And then there was Cristina, Giovanni's younger sister, who is a very fine landscape painter. She has the same reddish blonde curls as G does, and the same sea green eyes. But she is very serious, and very quiet. She would set up her easel on the opposite side of the terrace, and she would stare out at the ocean for such a long time before she started painting. She was also very private about what she painted. I so wanted to see what she was doing but I didn't dare interfere.

It was clear that she adored her brother. Every morning, when she came downstairs and joined us on the terrace, she stood behind Giovanni and placing one hand on either side of his face, she kissed him on his head, a long slow kiss! That always made me smile.

So I guess it's time I talk about the day I embarrassed G (I've started to refer to him as "G," instead of D, as D was for Diavolo, and I know that name really does not fit him at ALL!)

We gathered about eleven, which is when I arrive at the villa in the carriage. There were big puffy clouds in the sky and the sun was in and out, so someone suggested we sit in lounge chairs away from the palms. Pietro arranged the chairs in a large circle. There was me and Giovanni, Benito, who is a poet, Edoardo and Tullio, and a new couple who had just arrived the night before.

As we sat down, G introduced me to the new couple. "Filomena, may I present two people who are just passing through. Claudia and her husband, Filippo. They live in Rome right now, but they are traveling the whole of the Italian peninsula."

"Bongiorno," I said. "It is a pleasure to meet you!"

"Pleasure to know you, too" Filippo said. "Piacere di conoscerti!" Claudia didn't say a word, and at the time I didn't think anything of it. Only later would I realize the predicament that I unknowingly walked right into!

G didn't say whether these two were writers or not, in fact, he didn't say anything else about them at all. But since they sat down on the terrace with us, I just assumed they were going to write.

Benito read from Dante's "Paradiso," with which I was totally unfammiliar. It always makes me a little nervous that I don't really know anything about the literature that G and his friends read from, because I worry I will write something stupid. But so far, I haven't come up with anything ridiculous.

So he began:

"O you, eager to hear more

who have followed in your little bark

my ship that singing makes its way

turn back if you would see your shores again.

Do not set forth upon the deep,

for, losing sight of me, you would be lost.

He went on for a few more stanzas but right away, I realized what I needed to write:

"I want so much to set forth upon the deep. For in my life, I have been sleeping for so many years -- it's only in the last few weeks that I have been able to start writing in a serious way. It's only here at the villa, in the company of Giovanni and his wonderful friends that I have had the courage to open up, expressing my honest feelings and emotions by writing them down in this beautiful journal. I am that person riding in a little bark, following Giovanni's ship! I know I would be forever lost if I lost sight of him. He has been my inspiration. Over and over again he has praised what I've written. I am so grateful for that praise and I want him and the world to know that I am forever and ever grateful and that I don't take it for granted! And I hope what he has started here never ends because I just love it." I thought about writing "and I love him, too" but I knew that would be really foolish.

In retrospect, I suppose all of what I wrote was a little too gushing. And far too revealing. I guess hearing this, people thought they could see my true feelings for G -- I was admitting that I am in love with him!!!!

I don't really see it that way. Well, so, I wasn't the first reader. Benito chose Giovanni to go first. I honestly don't remember what he wrote. Because after he read, Benito asked me to read and I did. Afterward, there was total silence. I looked up. Giovanni was squeezing his eyes shut. And just about everyone else was smiling and staring at him. I was used to people telling me that what I wrote was powerful. There was always praise for my writing, but not this morning.

Finally Claudia spoke, but not about my writing. "So Giovanni, what does it feel like to be a big ship followed by such a devoted little bark?" The others stifled their smiles and laughter. Giovanni looked at Claudia, and just shook his head. "Claudia, I don't think you understand what Filomena was trying to say."

"Oh really?" said Filippo. "What was it she was trying to say?"

I was horrified. I had no idea that my words would cause Giovanni such embarrassment. I wanted to say something that would rectify the situation, but what would that be? I started feeling a little frantic.

But once again, G came to my rescue. He turned to face Claudia. "What she was trying to say is that living in Paola, she never had the opportunity to become a writer. She never imagined she might have the chance to sit among other writers and find her voice and express her ideas. I am happy and proud that I've given her that opportunity and she is merely expressing her gratitude."

Claudia smirked. "Oh is that it?" And with that, she got up from her chair and disappeared into the villa. Filippo followed her. It was only then that I realized that neither one of them had been writing.

I had to fight my great desire to be the third one to disappear. I felt so so sorry that I had caused this uproar between G and his friends! I wanted to apologize to him but I was afraid I would only make things worse.

It took all my strength to keep sitting there. I tried ever so hard to listen to the rest of the readers. I'm afraid I didn't contribute anything the rest of the morning. When it turned noon, and it was time for cafe, I rose and just left. I didn't have the stomach to talk to anyone.

I worked in the kitchen all afternoon without speaking. Finally, Giuseppi asked me what was wrong. I told him I had embarrassed Giovanni by what I had written in the morning. Giuseppi tried to reassure me. "He is a grown man and he can handle himself," Giuseppi said. "You have a heart of gold, and I cannot imagine you writing anything that would embarrass him or anyone else."

I dismissed what he said. It was time to put on my uniform to serve dinner. I dreaded seeing all of G's friends at the table. I wasn't sure I would be able to do it. But wouldn't you know, Giovanni showed up in the kitchen a few minutes later!

"Hello there Fi!"

"Giovanni, I am so very sorry I embarrassed you this morning. It was never my intention to do that!"

"Of course it wasn't," he said matter-of-factly. "I know that and so does everyone else."

I looked at him in confusion. "I don't understand. When Claudia asked you..." He interrupted.

"There is someting you need to know about Claudia," he said. "She and I grew up together and for a long while there were those people who thought we would marry. Those people included my father."

My eyes shot open.

"Yes, it was her family that wanted it. And my father hoped for it too because her family manufactures leather products. My mother of course knew I wasn't in love with Claudia and so she never pressured me, not a bit. And yes, Claudia wanted it too. But it was never ever my desire! You see, Filomena, she is a cold-hearted woman, or at least she can be. She is definitely not an artist or a writer or a musician. And neither is Filippo. So they are well suited. Claudia has all the money in the world and now they can travel together as they please. They wrote to me recently and asked if they could stay at the villa when they were in the south of Italy and of course, being family friends for a very long time, I couldn't really say no. Now I know it was a terrible mistake."

I inhaled. This was a lot to take in. I tied my apron around my waist. "Thank you for this explanation, Giovanni. But I still think I was too revealing."

He placed his hands on both my shoulders -- he held me in place. "Filomena, you wrote what you were feeling. There is never anything wrong with that, especially when those feelings grow out of love."

"Yes, but I should never say that I am in love with you in public be..."

"And why not?" There was a smile dancing on his lips. "Because you are not in love with me?" He pulled me toward him and gently kissed my forehead and then my face.

"I...I care for you very deeply," I said. "But..."

"But what?"

"But I don't ever want to...to hurt you or be the cause of any pain."

"And you aren't. Ever. You are the source of great joy!"

I saw Giuseppi in the background. He was carrying piles of plates and bowls in his arms. It was my job to set the table.

"Look Giovanni, I cannot take any more time to talk right now, but I will tomorrow or later if you want!"

"Wonderful!" Giovanni left, and I set the table quickly. I dreaded seeing Claudia and Filippo and so I was completely relieved when Giovanni returned to the kitchen to tell me not to include the two of them at the table for dinner.

"They are dining elsewhere," he said, smiling. I didn't dare ask where.

Later, when it was time to leave, Giovanni showed up sitting in the carriage. The moon was full that night. As G stepped down and helped me up, he asked ne if it would be okay if we took a ride in the moonlight before dropping me off in Paola. I nodded yes, and the driver took us on a winding route that ended us at a cliff overlooking the ocean. The moon was flooding the sea in the most beautiful silver light.

We didn't really speak. G held me in his arms. At one point I thought of something I wanted to say about what had transpired earlier in the day with Claudia. But then I realized it was a nearly perfect moment sitting in the carriage just staring out at the ocean in the moonlight, with the man I love.

We remained there for maybe twenty minutes. I was beginning to get sleepy. I didn't even have to say anything to G. He leaned over and told Mauro it was time to take me home, and so, the driver stirred the horse and we were on our way.

No matter that I had embarrassed Giovanni in the morning, it still was a pretty perfect day!