Frank Polizzi - Somewhere in the Stars

“I know what you could do. Listen here! My son has a few connections with the flyboys. Maybe you could hitch a ride in one of those transport planes at Travis Air Force Base. They go to New York. I think it’s Floyd Bennett Field.”

“Wow, I don’t know what to say?”

“Don’t say nothin’. Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you know if you going on one of those big mamas.”

Nick returned home by midnight and tiptoed out to the backyard. He sat on top of the picnic table and gazed at the stars and tried to read them, so he might figure out how he might handle things with his buddy, Nate, and whatever else he might run into. He mulled over his father’s advice and the bartender’s counsel many times. Nick wondered where Caterina was at this moment, eight hours ahead in another time zone. As the rosy dawn was waking her, he wondered what she might have been dreaming about. Did she ever muse about their times together in Italy or was their Roman encounter not even worth a bad dream for her?

Nathan embarked on the Swedish American Line’s Gripsholm from New York to Gothenburg. He held onto the rail as the ship sliced through the brown water of the harbor, the cry of seagulls circling without purpose. He wondered if he were going to cross over 3000 nautical miles just to set himself up for failure. Once out of the New York Bay, the ocean liner increased speed to 17 knots per hour, running parallel to Long Island, an endless succession of waves that separated him in due course from the solid ground of ‘The End’.

Out on the open sea, the sunrays grazed the metal hull, turning into flashes of exploding shells that skimmed the ocean’s surface, dredging up memories of the dead and wounded of Italy, a country he thought he would never return to. He was not the same man, though no one in his family noticed, and then there was Nick. What a damn disappointment, after all they had been through. The war had changed Nick too. Nathan could not decode what motivated his best friend anymore. And to think Nick didn’t get what a great gal Caterina was. So water continued to rush and swoosh along the side of the ship, leaving a wake touching the horizon, while he steamed to Rachele. Nathan reflected on the nature of mental illness, a condition that doesn’t disappear because a person wills it. Something else had to come into play and Nathan did not want to live on the “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” as the song goes, but he had to give it one last chance. He felt a hollowness that bored through him, adrift on the vast sea until someone jerked his body with a smack to his shoulder. Nathan spun around and then his jaw dropped.

“Did you think I would let you go on this meshugganah adventure all by yourself?”

“Nah, I was hoping you’d change your mind, buddy.” Nathan grinned and shook his head. “How did you manage to catch up with me?”

“I hitched a ride on a military transport thanks to Billy, the bartender’s son. You remember Willie from Jack’s Tavern?”

“Sure!”

“Would you believe it? Billy flew one of those fighter planes in Italy. Broke the color barrier flying planes.”

“A mensch if there ever was one. Nick, remember when we came back on the Queen Mary?”

“Yeah and passing the Lady in the Bay. I could’ve kissed her feet.” Nick laughed a little. “And our ship packed like my father’s favorite fish.” They both laughed. “Speaking of fathers, I accidentally ran into yours before I left.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Not when it comes to Mr. Fein. See, your father apologized for all the grief he caused me. Said he never should have interfered. The funny thing was his not being pissed at you for leaving. My mom made many signs of the cross as I walked out the door.”

Nathan placed his arm around Nick’s shoulder as they scoured the waters for dolphins, whales or any other creature with fins, giving a cheer even though they only saw drifting debris, neither of them giving a damn what the other passengers thought.

“Like old times, Nick,” Nathan said.

“Yeah, like old times, Nate.”

After a week on the ocean, they arrived at Gothenburg, continuing on their journey by ferry, then a patchwork of connecting trains till they caught the last one from Rome to Assisi. Padre Esposito was waiting for them at the station and, after an emotional greeting, the friar drove them in a Fiat 500 to the monastery where they had stayed during the war. After they washed up, the three of them ate a supper of salsiccia all’uva prepared by the two mysterious monks, including asparagus, new potatoes and rosemary from their own garden, accompanied with a chilled bottle of Orvieto Classico. Afterwards, they drank espresso and nibbled on good chocolate from Perugia and the conversation picked up.

“I’m so happy to see you boys again. I never thought I would live to see this day.”

Brother Ginepro walked in from the garden with dirt on his forehead and stopped at the dining table. A smile stretched across his face as the two Americani jumped up and hugged him. Nick spoke affectionately in l’italiano with Fra’ Ginepro for a while before he picked up the plates and joined the other monks in the kitchen.

“You have something else on your mind, Nathan. È vero .”

“It’s great seeing you again, Padre, but you’re right. There’s someone else.”

“I hope you have not come on this journey for nothing, but Mother Abbess urged me to contact you. The nuns convinced Rachele to leave the convent, but they wanted her to be in a transitional place. So she could adjust herself to the outside world she ran away from. The psychiatrist, Antonio Russo, is well-respected in the field and took on Rachele’s case.”

“Capisco, Padre.”

“The breakthrough came when she mentioned your name. Weaving it into conversation at odd times, il dottore could see a visible change in her. He observed his treatment in the garden setting causing a stimulus for this sudden emotional well-being or…” Padre grinned. “He witnessed a miracolo , despite his being an atheist.”

“Well, Padre , I’m not much of a believer myself, but there must be something to Rachele repeating my name.”

“Let us pray so, for it seems the two of you lost something the last time you were here.” Padre Esposito studied their expressions, while Nathan had listened intently. “In the morning I will drive you to the villa . Nicolo can amuse himself in our beautiful village or hike in the countryside. Allora, let’s have some limoncello . It was made right here at our monastery.”

The next morning Nathan set out from Assisi with Padre Esposito, driving an hour to Gubbio through the foothills of Umbria. It was early June and the heat of the sun was getting stronger, allowing the sunflowers to grow taller in the fields, while along the road, yellow pansies and lavender were sprouting and marking the route. Nathan periodically glanced at his watch, as they spoke of the weather and the growing season, and encouraged the Franciscan monk to stick with Mother Nature for conversation. Nathan was anxious about meeting Rachele and hoped that her progress was real.

They arrived in the mountain village while the weekly outdoor market was still active with wooden stands that displayed pots and pans, cheese, spices, lines of women’s blouses and leather wallets. Padre Esposito couldn’t resist and insisted they look for a bargain. Nathan indulged the monk since he wanted to delay things. As they browsed around the market, Nathan left the Padre for a short stroll around the 2,500-year-old Gubbio with its green mountainside as a backdrop to gray stone houses flanking a stream. It wasn’t long before he looked at his watch and retraced his path to the miniature car just as a smiling Padre Esposito returned with some bags of red pepper flakes and oregano, their smell hovering in the air. The father drove another fifteen minutes on a circuitous road and then onto a dirt road with hairpin curves.