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?
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.
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.
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!!!
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