To Lie, or Not to Lie, That is the Question!

It occurred to me as I hurried home on Sunday night that if I wanted to see Giovanni again, I might have to lie to Mama. Well, perhaps not lie, but not tell her the complete truth! But how was I going to explain where I had been all afternoon?

Soon enough, I was pushing open the door. I didn't see Mama. Where could she be? Oh dear, I thought, she must have gone looking for me!

I pulled together some food, as I was so famished. I was slicing salami and laying pieces on a plate, next to some provolone, and a couple slices of bread, when Mama walked in.

"For the love of God, where have you been Filomena? I finally decided to go to Nunzi's to see if you were there."

I stared at her. It had occurred to me that I might tell her I was with Nunzi. So much for that idea! But now, how was I going to explain my missing hours?

"I'm so sorry about this, Mama," I said, trying to sound as earnest as I could. "I would have been home a lot sooner, but I got caught talking to one of Papa's old friends, do you remember Ricardo Tavola?"

What was I doing? How could I convince Mama that I spent four or more hours with one of Papa's old fishing companions?

Mama came to the table. I was seated by now, eating. There was no way I could look her in the eye. I have never been able to lie very well to Mama and I guess that's for the best.

"Look at me young lady," she said, keeping her voice even. Slowly, I raised my eyes to hers. She gave me a dark piercing look. "Now tell me, where were you all afternoon?"

"I was on the beach Mama, I swear to you!" And of course that was the honest truth.

I could hear her tapping her fingers on the back of the chair where she stood. "So I could believe that of course," she said, "but is that all you want to tell me?"

She knew. Of course she knew! Mama is a very smart woman, and she had figured out that G had returned. Still, I wasn't absolutely sure she knew. And I wasn't prepared to tell her. Not right away. Because as soon as I told her, she would ask me about his "intentions," and what could I say? I would have to tell her that no, Giovanni had no plans to come here to ask for my hand.

And of course that meant, I would have to say goodbye to G. But how could I? I really feel like I might die of heartbreak if I had to kiss him goodbye!

I set a slice of cheese on bread and busied myself eating. Mama kept staring at me but I refused to meet her eyes.

After a while she moved away from the table. We didn't speak for the next couple of hours, and then I went straight to bed.

The next morning I made sure I left the house early. It wasn't like me to leave before Mama was up. And before I had a cup of coffee. But I needed time. And space. I had to think.

It was way too soon to go to Signora Bichietti's, so naturally, I headed for the ocean. The morning sun was throwing a golden blanket over the waves. I sat in the sand and thought about the glorious day before, seeing Giovanni. How could I possibly keep this secret from Mama?

Giovanni wants me to ask Mama if I can work for him. How silly that would be! There is no need to ask.

Perhaps I would see him on Wednesday, and then I would tell her.

I was hungry again, and I needed coffee. I got up from the beach and took one long look at the sea. It was such a deep shade of turquoise. The water is like the most beautiful blue gems, changing with the sun's angle. I said a Hail Mary, asking for a miracle, that somehow G will be able to marry me! Then I headed over to Nunzi's, knowing that she would give me breakfast and coffee!

******

I knocked on Nunzi's door.

"I knew it was you," she said, chuckling. "Who else would show up at this hour!"

She had just fixed coffee and she poured me a cup. "So what's up ragazza?"

I considered the fact that I was now going to tell her that Giovanni had returned. And I was going to get an earful when I told her that he had no intentions of marrying me. I sipped my coffee.

Inhaling, I said it out loud very very softly. "I saw Giovanni yesterday."

She swiveled around to face me. "Oh you don't say! Wow! Where has that scoundrel been all these months?"

I winced at the sound of that word! My beloved Giovanni was definitely not a scoundrel! "Sailing the coast took a lot longer than he thought it would. And he had a horrible time in Naples. A whole kettle of things happened. He shattered his elbow!"

"Oh dear!"

"But he's OK."

I nodded. Here it comes I thought.

"And so now, what happens?"

I didn't say anything.

"Fi?"

"Yes?"

"Is he...going to propose?"

I was silent.

"Fi, is he going to propose or has he got a new excuse?"

"I don't think he is going to propose but...honestly, Nunzi, he's not giving me a bunch of excuses. He says it's his father, it's his father's fault."

"Ouch."

"Yes." The sadness of it started closing in on me. "I asked him to explain why he can't and he says...he just won't tell me."

"That's not good Fi."

"I know, I know." Closing my eyes, I said a Hail Mary to myself. "I'm praying for a miracle!"

"Si, mi amica...you need one."

Thankfully, Nunzi didn't say anymore, at least not right away. Instead she decided to feed me. Prosiutto, and provolone, and fresh bread. Also, lush green olives and arugula and tasty anchovies.

Soon, I was helping her with the wash. I hate doing laundry, but I love Nunzi, and she has her hands full. And the truth be told, Nunzi is now carrying her fourth child. Every morning, she pukes a few times, and then forces herself to eat something.

Hands immersed in warm water, scrubbing a shirt collar, I found myself telling her my worst fear.

"So he's here now, but as soon as Mama finds out that he's not proposing, I'm afraid it's all over, Nunzi. I will never see him again." Maybe because she is dealing with morning sickness, Nunzi didn't hesitate to dump cold water on my relationship with Giovanni.

"Well, that is as it should be. I know you think you're in love, Fi, but you must accept the fact that Giovanni is just not someone for the long run."

"What do you mean, I think I'm in love? Why are you saying that? You know that I am in love with him! I care about him desperately."

Nunzi turned to face me. "OK yes, so it feels very passionate, yes. It feels like you can't live without him. But the truth is that for the last seven or eight months you have been infatuated with a free-thinking man who is not particularly responsible. He is full of dangerous ideas and he has filled your head with them. Ideas that can get you into trouble, Fi."

I felt my face growing hot and my heart starting to hammer. "Oh you mean because he thinks I could be a writer?"

"Well, yes, that, for one."

"Oh so you don't think I'm a writer? Is that it? Because I am a writer Nunzi!"

She turned to face me, her eyes wide with derision. "Oh please Fi!"

Her little boy, Vincenzo, began clamoring for attention, banging a big spoon on the table. "Mama, fame, fame," the boy cried. He was reaching up to the table where all the food still lay.

Nunzi dried her hands and went to the curly-headed child to lift him into her arms. She picked up an olive and held it in his mouth. Then she put him down again, with a piece of bread and a small slice of cheese. "Ecco, mangia, piccolo! Eat little one!" She stuffed a wad of bread into her own mouth.

"Filomena," she said, after she finished chewing, "when will you accept the fact that you are not an aristocrat like Giovanni? Sure, you can write, that's fine, but that's not the point. Your writing is never going to change the fact that you are still a poor girl from Paola, Fi, just like me and your Mama and everybody else we know. You are not suddenly going to become rich-blooded, Fi, and Giovanni is dead wrong to lead you on the way he has."

I dropped the shirt, clenching both fists and raising them out of the water. "He loves me Nunzi. I know he loves me." I dried my hands. I was close to crying, or screaming.

"But what does that mean, Fi, he loves you, if he cannot marry you? Where do you think you're going to end up with that, huh?"

"Giovanni told me that he wants to marry me 'more than anything in the world!' Those were his exact words. You don't know him like I do, Nunzi. He hasn't given up on the idea of marriage and neither have I!"

The door opened and Nunzi's husband walked in at that moment. He was sweating profusely and his shirt was soaked. He looked at me. Considering the look in his eye, I wondered if he maybe he had heard what I was just saying.

Nunzi went immediately to the table, poured a glass of water and handed it to her husband.

"The sun is beastly out there today," he said. "Il sole e bestiale la fuori oggi."

"I'm sure," Nunzi said. There was a long moment of dead silence, with the three of us, and the boy, just standing there.

"I have to go Nunzi, I must get to work," I said, and without another word, I moved quickly to the door.