Mama, Even the Fruit?
"What took you so long?" Mama has her hands on her hips, which means she is really annoyed. "I was worried."
"I'm so sorry, Mama," I say, getting ready to tell her everything, well, almost everything. "Please sit down, because I have some wonderful news."
She is shaking her head as we sit down at the table. "I went to the church just now," I say. "I just wanted to tell Father to thank Giovanni for the eggs he sent for me."
Mama raises her hands. "But why was that necessary Filo? You have no reason to ..."
I raise my voice. "Please, Mama, will you please let me speak?"
She inhales, crosses her arms, waiting.
"Giovanni has declared his love for me, and he says he wants to meet you, right away, and he intends to propose marriage." Mama closes her eyes and sets her hands over her nose and mouth. She sits there and opens her eyes.
"Oh Filo, I want to believe you, I want to believe it...but..."
"But Mama I'm telling you the absolute truth!"
She closes her eyes again. For a moment, she says nothing. Then: "What I mean, Filomena, is that I want to believe that what he is telling you is true. Of course I believe you, Filo, but it's this wealthy man, a stranger from far away, it's him that I am doubting."
"But Mama, he even told the priest he cares for me! He said he would have been completely heartbroken if something had happened to me!" I'm telling Mama to believe in Giovanni, and so I am also convincing myself of his honorable intentions. "Please will you meet him? Let him tell you himself how he feels?"
"What I don't understand, Filomena, is why a man with all of his wealth would choose to marry someone who is not of his standing? How can his family accept that?"
"He and his family are...not close. His mother -- who he loved dearly -- passed away a few years ago and Giovanni adored her, but now he is trying to establish himself separate from his family, from his father in particular. He explained it all to me."
Mama raises her voice. "But no one is ever separate from his family, Filomena, don't you see that? Especially when it comes to marriage, it is always a family affair. There will be children, and grandparents will insist on seeing these children because they are their beloved offspring. You do not just marry this man, you marry his whole clan!"
I am getting tired of arguing with her. "Maybe it's different when you have so much money, Mama. Giovanni does not get along with his father, he calls him a bully, and he refuses to work in the wool factory like his brothers."
"And so what exactly will he do for money?"
"Mama, he has so much money he doesn't need to work. His mother's family owns Chianti vineyards throughout Tuscany."
She gets up from the table. "I don't know, Filomena. I just don't know about all this."
"Will you at least meet him? Ask him yourself! He wants so much to meet you. Please Mama."
When she speaks next, she sounds very calm. She sounds tired. "Let me think, Fi. Please let me be alone and think."
"OK but...he is leaving the day after tomorrow so, you would have to meet him...tomorrow."
"Yes, yes, I understand, but for now please go!"
So I do, I go to Signora Strada's for the rest of the day. As I am washing the floor on my hands and knees, I think about what I said to Mama. Perhaps I was wrong to pour myself out to her. Considering the fact that I am myself still a tiny bit uncertain about Giovanni, maybe I should not have brought Mama into it, into this situation?
But in order for Giovanni to meet Mama, she must see him tomorrow...What's more, I need Mama's advice. And I cannot deceive her anymore!
I am exhausted when I finish working. I will go to bed early tonight, that's for sure.
When I get home, Mama and I exchange greetings. She has placed two bowls, full of polenta, on the table; the polenta is covered with her delicious spaghetti sauce with capers in it. I stop to wash my hands, and I take my place at the table.
I am so tired I do not want to make conversation, but Mama speaks.
"Filomena, I have decided that in fairness to you, I will meet this young man Giovanni. If he wants to meet me that badly, well, then, I will agree."
I'm shocked. I wasn't expecting this.
"Thank you so much, Mama," I say, getting up from my seat and embracing her. "You are so wonderful to me!"
"I hope so," she says, sounding sad. "Oh how I wish your Papa was here. I had a long conversation with him this afternoon." She shrugs. "At the end, I realized that I had no choice in this matter. I must say that I never expected you to present me with a son-in-law who is so wealthy. I just pray to God that he is a genuinely good man."
"He is," I say. On that, Mama and I can agree!
********
I am in front of the church before eleven. Nervous from the moment I woke up, I couldn't eat a thing all morning. I am wondering if perhaps Giovanni will decide not to come. Somehow, I would be relieved. Or would I? Oh no, I would be so disappointed.
When he appears, I am shocked. He is carrying two blankets under one arm, and a large satchel in the other hand. I can see one of the blankets is a beautiful sky blue color and the other is a soft shade of green.
"Bongiorno, mi amor," he says, smiling. I smile back.
"What is all this?" I whisper, pointing to the blankets.
"A few gifts for your Mama," he says, putting down the satchel. He hands me the blue blanket. It's as soft as anything I have ever felt! I raise it to my cheek and close my eyes. He is actually here, and he is going to meet Mama.
"You're really here," I say, and suddenly I feel very calm. And happier than I think I've ever felt.
"Of course I'm here Fi," he says, frowning. "Did you doubt me?"
"Oh Giovanni I'm sorry, but all this is happening so fast." I want to kiss him but not in front of the church.
"Here," he says, taking the blanket from me. He unfolds it and drapes it over my shoulders.
I laugh, putting it over my head for a moment, thinking that now I look just like a statue inside the church -- the one of the Virgin Mary.
"Let's go," I say, and I lead the way through the cobble-stoned streets, me shrouded in powder blue. A few people pass us and give me a very strange stare. I don't care, I tell myself that, and I would love to think that's true, but of course I know better.
It doesn't take long before we are standing in front of my house. I don't want to feel ashamed or embarrassed but I do. "This is it," I whisper, and he smiles. I look at the old adobe walls, once white but now grey with dirt. And the door, splintering in places.
"Oh Giovanni, I'm not sure I can do this," I whisper. My heart is beating fast and my palms are sweaty.
"Silly girl," he says, touching my face very gently. "Don't you understand, I love you, and I don't care where you were born or grew up! I love you because you are full of life! I love you for all the ways that you are special! And I will always love you, no matter what!" br />
I take a long breath in. "Thank you for saying that." I hug the blanket tighter. "OK," I say, "I guess I'm as ready as I'm going to be!"
I push open the door, and we enter the kitchen, which is full of the delicious smell of Mama's bread.
She is standing there, hand on one chair. She has her hair tied up in back and she is wearing her best -- and only -- decent dress, grey with a white collar.
"Hello," Giovanni says, stepping forward and bowing slightly. "I am Giovanni Masiero, of Florence, but lately of San Lucido. I am so very happy to know you!" He extends one hand and Mama smiles shyly. Finally she takes his hand and shakes it very slowly.
"I am very pleased to meet you," she says, and suddenly I want to take her in my arms and comfort her and somehow make her more proud or more confident or more worldly. "I am Signora Scrivano." She bows her head again.
"I brought you these," G says, gesturing to the blankets. "These were made in my father's wool factory. And also, some wine, chianti, from the winery of my mother's family." He sets two bottles of wine on the table.
I take the blue blanket off my shoulders and walk to Mama and drape it around her shoulders. "Isn't it beautiful Mama?" I ask. She nods her head.
"Thank you so much Signor Masiero," she says. "No one has ever given me anything quite like this!"
"Oh please, please call me Giovanni," he says, and that charming smile dazzles me once more.
I can see Mama is flustered. Not sure what to do. I must act, I think, panicking. My stomach is fluttering and making noise and I am suddenly famished. "Mama, your bread, is it almost finished baking because I am so hungry!"
"Oh yes, yes it is," she says and that sets her in motion. She removes the blanket from her shoulders and hands it to me. "Signor Ma...I mean, Giovanni, will you please have a seat. Are you also hungry?"
Giovanni pulls out a chair and sits down, crossing one leg over the other. He looks so incredibly at ease sitting there, as if he's done it every day for years! "Oh yes, I am indeed hungry, Signora Scrivano, how could I not be hungry smelling your wonderful bread?"
Within moments Mama has laid out a simple but wonderful spread, her glorious bread, and a block of provolone, a bowl of green olives, thin slices of salami, and a plate of fresh leaves of lettuce and tomato, drizzled with olive oil and red wine vinegar. I smell the fresh oregano she has sprinkled on the greens.
"Shall we open one of these bottles of wine?" he asks, and Mama smiles and gets the wine bottle opener.
Soon the three of us are eating. I take an extra long swallow of the chianti and before I know it, I feel my stomach letting go.
Giovanni praises Mama's bread to the stars, and I can see from the way she smiles that it makes her happy.
Mama asks Giovanni to tell her about his parents, and where he grew up. So he does, leaving out the fact that he hates his father. Thankfully, too, he says nothing about his ancestor who was a friend of Leonardo da Vinci.
As we finish eating, Mama gets up to brew some cafe. That's when Giovanni reaches into his satchel and brings out a large box. Oh my heavens, I think, not another gift!
When he lifts the lid, I see an amazing array of dried fruit: prunes and apricots, pears and apples and other fruits I can't identify.
"I thought you would enjoy some dessert," he says, and for a moment I feel certain Mama will say that he's brought far too much! Instead, I watch her eyes grow large as she touches the lid and surveys the fruit.
"Ah, this is magnificent," she says. "You are a very thoughtful and generous man, Giovanni."
And that's all he was waiting for! He smiles widely and in a very low voice, he says: "Signora Scrivano, I hope I can convince you to allow me to court your daughter!"
I stop breathing. Did he really just say what I think he said? I was expecting him to ask Mama for my hand in marriage! What has happened? Was there some misunderstanding yesterday? I asked him outright if he wanted me to be his wife and he said yes, I know he said yes, but now, how can Mama possibly react?
Mama is holding the espresso pot. She blinks, and I wonder what she can possibly say, what she must be thinking! She proceeds to pour our cafe into three, thankfully, unchipped cups. Several moments have gone by and I wonder if she is just going to ignore his question. But she doesn't. She sits down and lifts her head in a very dignified fashion.
"Signor Masiero," she says, "my daughter is very very precious to me, as you can imagine. Now that her father is gone, she is even more precious to me, if that's possible. As my daughter explained your intentions to me yesterday, she said you planned to ask me if you could marry her. If I might be so bold, I am wondering why you are now saying that you simply want to court her? The way I see it, you have been courting her the entire time she has been working and...pursuing her writing...at your villa. Will you explain to me why it is that you are just NOW asking permission to court her? Why isn't this visit today a marriage proposal?"
Wow. I don't think I've ever been so proud of Mama before. She was so perfectly calm speaking to Giovanni. I feel the strength of her love. But I also feel a bit frantic, that G suddenly seems so...slippery to me!
He smiles and nods. And he even takes a sip of his cafe. Then he clears his throat. "Signora Scrivano, I'm not sure how to answer you except to say that I am deeply in love with your daughter. She is an extraordinary young woman. Intelligent, beautiful, good-hearted and if that were not enough, she is also an exceptionally talented writer. As I think you know, writing means everything to me. So there is absolutely no question in my mind that I want her to be in my life forever. As I explained to Filomena yesterday, however, there is a family situation that I must attend to before I can formally ask for her hand in marriage. I will be leaving tomorrow and I fully hope to return within a matter of weeks and as soon as I am back, I will speak to you again. When I do, I am confident that I will be able to ask for her hand."
Mama gets up from the table and clears our three lunch plates. She goes to the cupboard and takes out three clean plates and returns to the table. She sets one down in front of each of us. Then she looks Giovanni straight in the eye.
"I am a simple woman, Signor Masiero, but I am not sure I understand what kind of a family situation would prevent your asking for my daughter's hand. Is it perhaps because your father objects so strongly? Because, as I have said to Filomena repeatedly, it is unrealistic to expect a wealthy man from Florence to welcome a poor peasant from Paola as a suitable match for his son. If that is the problem, then I believe this situation with Filomena is done and I would ask you not to see her again."
I notice a line of fine beads of sweat above both of Mama's eyebrows. And her lips are tight and trembling ever so slightly. I am so nervous all of a sudden I think I might throw up or faint. But leave it to Giovanni, he can talk his way around any obstacle, any misfortune.
"I understand your concern, Signora, and I apologize deeply for this wrinkle. I think it makes perfect sense that you want to protect your daughter's honor and virtue. But I promise you, there is absolutely no issue with my father. I promise you that I am fully prepared to marry Filomena as soon as possible upon my return, and that I am completely excited about this prospect!"
Mama takes a sip of her coffee, and she very carefully closes the lid of the fruit box. Not a single piece of fruit was removed!
"Signor Masiero, there is nothing more for us to discuss today. I want to thank you for all of your gifts. They are very very lovely. But I think under the circumstances, you should probably take them home with you."
I cover her hand with mind. "Oh Mama, please no," I say, without thinking. "Giovanni is an honest man, and he loves me, I know he does, and I love him, so please, please, Mama, please accept his gifts. Accept the fact that he loves me, please Mama I beg you from the bottom of my heart, please don't reject his generosity, because part of it is directed toward me!"
I am on the verge of tears. Mama looks at me, so sadly, and I suddenly wish I hadn't let Giovanni come.
Giovanni, for his part, is smart enough not to say anything.
I can see that Mama is struggling; I know she doesn't want to break my heart. But more than anything I know that she doesn't want Giovanni to break my heart or steal my virtue.
"Filomena, I will allow you to select one of the gifts. I will consider that to be a promissary gift from him to you. However, he will take with him the rest of what he has brought today."
I blink. Tears are pooling. I am in a state of disbelief, wondering how this horrible situation has come to pass!
Getting up, I walk to the chair where Mama set the powder blue blanket. I pick it up and sit back down at the table with the blanket on my lap. Tears are now falling like water, and they soak into the blanket.
"So if that is all, Signor Masiero, I truly do look forward to your calling on us when you return!" Mama smiles in a way that I know is fake.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Signora Scrivano," Giovanni says, standing up. "And I am very sorry if I have in any way offended you today. Please know that was never ever my intention!"
He stands up. His coffee cup is still half full. He sets the second bottle of wine into the satchel and walks to the door. He picks up the green blanket and puts that in the satchel too. He opens the door and turns to face us.
"I wish you both well," he says. He looks at me with the saddest expression imaginable. I feel like my heart is full of knives stabbing me in every possible direction.
At that moment Mama says two things, one of which feels terribly embarrassing and the other, shows her to be so very kind.
"Filomena, I will understand if you want to say goodbye to Signor Masiero just outside the house. But please also take this box of fruit to him so that he can return home with it."
I sit in silence for a moment. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. I get up and walk to the door, carrying the blanket and fruit. My heart hammers in my chest. In an instant, the two of us are outside the door.
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