Frank Polizzi - Somewhere in the Stars

“Before you go, can’t you express how you feel about us? Anything.” He stood up. “Some day, I’m going back to America, don’t you understand?”

She got up and walked to the back of the church while the extern nun opened the door and ushered her out. Nathan felt as if the white marble would crash down on his head at any moment before he was able to exit the church. His hand started to jerk and he vomited when he reached his motor scooter. Feeling dazed, he sat on the ground until he regained his composure, and made sure he wasn’t going into a full-blown seizure. When Nathan fired up his Paperino, he gazed over the walls. He could see a lone light on the top floor and swore it must be Rachele’s cell. She would not be throwing him a spool of thread to grab while she held the end of it, no filo della vita, a lifeline that Italians held on the pier while their relatives clung to the ball, unraveling as the steamer for America slid into the dark. There were other immigrant stories that Nick had told him, and they all had sad endings like his own.

Nathan sped back to Rome and no longer cared where he would wind up. Things would be the same no matter where he was, the road kicking out from his tires, the black trees swaying in the dark sky, the only sounds in the night, the roar of his engine muffling the thumping of his heart that he felt deep within his ribcage, heavy and plodding, no lifeline.

It was Christmas Eve and Captain Smith dismissed his staff at fifteen hundred hours, so Nick used the time to get a gift for Caterina on the Via dei Condotti. He wanted to buy a silk scarf even though it would be expensive, something that she would appreciate considering their time together. The shopkeeper was patient, displaying each scarf across his chest like the ceremonial sashes that Italians love to wear in public, until Nick found one he liked.

Pleased with his purchase, he looked out the shop window while his present was being hand wrapped with pizzazz. He squinted his eyes in disbelief when he saw Caterina leaving the Antico Caffé Greco across the street with an older Italian gentleman, the same one he saw her with at the beginning of their relationship, if that’s what it was. His face turned pale noting the same moustache waxed at the tips, the ascot puffed out of his sports jacket, the assured gait. They disappeared in the direction of the Piazza di Spagna. The shopkeeper repeated ‘ Signore , Signore, prego, Signore,’ as Nick envisioned Caterina taking a passeggiata with the old man around the fountains, admiring Keats’ house and ascending the Spanish Steps for a view before heading for his hotel room.

Nick returned to his old room and found Nathan by the light of the window finishing a painting from one of his Roman sketches. He dropped the wrapped present on the table and sat down, while Nathan gave a sidelong glance and resumed working.

“It’s for Caterina,” Nathan said. “Should be done for the New Year. Real sweet of her to invite me to your Christmas Eve dinner.”

“Yeah, sweet all right.”

Nathan put his brush down and sat next to Nick.

“It’s always something, Nick.”

“I saw her on Via Condotti .”

“So she’s not allowed to shop?” Nick grimaced. “Okay, tell me what’s eating you.”

“Caterina is back to her old tricks.”

“If I get your meaning, I think you’re off base, no matter what you saw.”

“There you go again taking her side. If I didn’t know better.”

“You’re going pazzo on me.”

“I saw her with that same ritzy, Italian guy again. You remember from last time.”

“No, I don’t remember.”

“I’m telling you she’s with another guy who looks like he has a lot of dough.”

“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. So don’t go jumping the gun.”

“Can’t believe how you’re always taking her side now.”

“For cryin’ out loud, why can’t we just have a little fun tonight? You’ll get over it.”

“I’m not done with this yet.”

“Don’t do something stupid. Give her a pass. I’ll get ready and we’ll walk over together like nothing ever happened.”

When they got to Caterina’s apartment, the table had been set with some red candles. She sang the popular song, “Oh Mia Bela Madunina ,” the one dedicated to the gilded statue on top of the Duomo in Milano . While Caterina glided from stove to table, she paced all four courses of the evening, including variations on calamari , vongole , gamberi and pesce spada. They drank the two bottles of Frascati Nathan brought that were young and tasted of white peaches and apples, the way good Frascati should be. They also polished off three other bottles lying about and afterwards, del caffé and Sambuca. Caterina laughed at Nathan’s jokes while Nick watched the two of them.

“Caterina, you have it all, looks and cooks,” Nathan slurred.

“Nick, I have a secret admirer.”

“Or two.”

Caterina laughed. “Certo, anche tu!”

“I’m not talking about me.”

“Oh, come on Nicky, it has to be you.” Caterina giggled. “Stop being a silly goose.” She patted Nick on his cheek. “Maybe you need another shot of Sambuca.”

Nathan stretched over and tapped Nick on the shoulder. “Easy buddy. Don’t ruin the party.”

“Isn’t it getting late for you, Nate?”

“I’m not leaving till I have another Sambuca for the road.” Nick got up and looked out the window.

“What’s with Nick?” Caterina whispered to Nathan.

“Ah, don’t pay any attention to him,” Nathan responded, then raised his voice. “He’ll get over what’s bugging him. Won’t you, buddy? Oh, ignoring your old pal. You know somethin’…” He slammed the table with his palm. “You got one hell of a gal! So Nick, take out that poker you got stuck up your ass and wise up!”

“Vafonculo, Nate!”

Nathan pushed himself up and tripped over the chair. Caterina helped him up after struggling with him a few minutes.

“Take your friend home, Nick. He could fall and hit his head. And then what?”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Nathan leaned on Nick’s good side, as he balanced the both of them with his cane. Caterina sat down and poured herself another Sambuca and swirled it around the glass, the door slamming on their way out. Several hours later, Caterina heard the key in the lock and Nick sat opposite Caterina.

“Madonna, have you lost your mind, Nick. And on Christmas Eve!” She squeezed the silk scarf with her left hand. “Say something. You spoiled the holiday after my slaving over the stove.”

“Who was that old guy I saw you with coming out of Caffé Greco .”

“ Signor Giacomo Parini. He was a banker friend of my father from Milano .”

“I thought you were originally from Rome.”

“I am a Milanese .”

“Another one of your secrets.”

“You are jealous of an old man?”

“Who said anything about jealousy?”

“You obviously have made your mind up. You can take this back.” She slid the scarf to Nick.

“I don’t want it back.”

“Is that all you don’t want back?”

“You went to bed with him, didn’t you?”

“And what if I said no, would you believe me?”

“That’s not the first time I saw him.”

“So you work in an intelligence unit and think you know everything. Tu sei un cretino!” She swayed her praying hands. Nick got up and threw the empty bottles into the garbage pail. “Maybe you should stick your head out the window to listen for a little bird. Prego , watch that a star doesn’t crash on your testa dura.”