Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

‘Pray, pray. I’m going. Such humility! And you, you ill-mannered creature, let her pray, do you understand? Let her pray!’

I have to dig my nails into my forehead to keep from laughing. It must truly be joy, because when the door slams shut and I can finally give in to laughter, the putrid walls, the wretched cots, the bucket no longer exist, just Nina’s flushed face. Now that her scars are beginning to fade, her strong features have a gentle turn. Maybe Nina is beautiful under that frightful mask. And when she, too, starts laughing — maybe she sensed my joy — and whispers ‘You were great, Mody’, I can’t help throwing my arms around her neck — she’s tall and I have to stand on tiptoe — and kissing her on the mouth, a mouth brimming with minute white pearls that dazzle my eyes and my mind. When I bite them her lips have the tart, sweet taste of blackberries faintly chilled by the dew. Nina must be strong since, as we laugh, she can lift me off the ground and whirl me into a spinning waltz: one-two-three, one-two-three! ‘ And now, the grand finale, the galop. Headlong among the unsteady walls, the armchairs, the chandeliers swaying over my head like so many suns…’

‘Are you dizzy? I can believe it: on an empty stomach! We’re crazy to squander our energy this way! Come on, let’s eat the soup before it gets cold. We shouldn’t squander our energy in here. No, it’s not your fault, you’re a novice, but me … Christ! It’s just that, if you must know, you touched me, that’s what. Who would imagine! Nina, moved. Annamo bene! … That’s a good one! 104Okay now, that’s enough, let’s eat … Oh, Mody, for a second I forgot where I was. Don’t look so disheartened! What’s wrong? Are you offended by what I said? I’m not angry with you, nennella . How can I explain it? I’m angry with Nina. It’s Nina who’s experienced with jails, not you. Now do as I say! It’s awful, I know, but it’s nourishing…’

Maybe because I’m no longer nauseous, or maybe because after stirring the soup she takes a spoonful and brings it to my mouth, I hear myself say with conviction: ‘You’re right, Nina. It’s not so bad, and it warms you.’

‘There, you said it. In here, Nina is always right, at least as far as — how can I put it? — physical matters are concerned. We should also walk back and forth. We’ll start tomorrow. Wash as best we can, not let either dejection or euphoria take hold of us. Euphoria is especially harmful: at first you think it’s good for you, like wine, but then it can be more tiring than giving yourself a hand job, for God’s sake!’

‘We shouldn’t?’

‘Of course we can, but not every day. It wears you out. You have to establish an exact time. Hey, I know a thing or two about it!’

‘So we can’t dance anymore like we did before?’

‘You’re too much, Mody.’

‘Then we can’t?’

‘Prudently … Oh, no, all of it! you have to finish all the soup. What was I saying? Oh, yes: you’re too much when you come out with things like … what do you call those bullies when they come to get you? “Those signori !.. those gentlemen have invited me to have a friendly chat.” I like you, Mody, and now that I’ve found you I wouldn’t want to lose you for anything in the world. Let’s make a pact. As you saw, I realized that you were right and I changed my tune with Sister Giuliana, so you should also change how you act when Nina is right … Here they come, to invite you to have a chat. You’d think we had called them! Come on, gulp it down quickly, finish it all up.’

‘If I finish it, will you kiss me when I come back?’

‘Of course, but prudently. We can’t wear ourselves out.’

With that sure promise singing in my mind, the shouts of those signori no longer hurt my ears and ‘chatting’ becomes easier day by day. So easy that they sometimes fall silent, amazed, in their soiled, badly sewn uniforms … Now, after the blinding lights, the shouting and the silences, I return safely to the cell’s darkness, reach out my hands and I know that, in a matter of seconds, I will find two warm, open arms, and a breast on which I can sink my head, drowning all thought.

‘Did you put the pillows under the covers?’

‘Yes, Nina, like you taught me.’

Nina thinks of everything: my cot lies in the path of the peephole.

‘Can we touch each other?’

‘No, go to sleep like a good girl. We have to wait for a day when they give us an egg.’

‘Is it tomorrow that they’ll give us one?’

‘I don’t think so. Let me think: it must be the day after tomorrow. Be good now, sleep! Tomorrow I’ll find out…’

‘But can’t we make an exception? I want so much to kiss your breasts.’

‘I told you, no! Now sleep, don’t make me mad!’

Nina is terrifying when she gets mad, and whether it’s fear or the warmth of her arms holding me tight, I slip into a sweet, peaceful sleep.

Nina saves up her sugar and mine: ‘You can drink the so-called coffee without sugar — or even pour it into the bucket; it’s nothing but dishwater, whereas this precious white powder, mixed with an egg, increases its nutritional value a hundred per cent.’ Day by day the paper packet grows and ends up between Nina’s bra and her breasts. Only she has the discipline not to open it, not even during the longest hours of hunger, from noon till seven.

‘So much sugar, Nina! You’re really strong willed. I wouldn’t be able to resist.’

Nina smiles, and my admiration makes her more beautiful. Hour by hour, the ugly mask of scars, now healed, fades away, partly because of my caresses and my breath.

‘Oh, yes, Mody, keep doing that. It relieves me. If you only knew how these scabs itch! Just like when I had the chickenpox, and my mother tied my hands to the bed. It was torture! Don’t stop! Now that I’ve met you, I don’t want my face to be scarred. Before, when I thought you were an informer, all I did was scratch myself. If only there was a mirror! You say most of the scabs have disappeared without leaving a mark? Oh, Mody, is it true, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?’

‘I’m your mirror; you can trust me. I’m the only mirror that doesn’t lie. Your skin is becoming flawless again, and if it weren’t for the dark circles under your eyes … Your colouring has an amber tone like when you come back from a walk on the first sunny day after winter — it seems impossible here inside these walls.’

‘I’m not just saying this, but Nina has always been admired for her complexion. As for the dark circles, yours are no joke either, nennella ! We wore ourselves out last night.’

‘You said we could.’

‘And it’s not a criticism. It’s nice to think back, knowing that in a few seconds Nina can make things better … Hold on a minute. Hey, I don’t want to brag, but no one can whip up a zabaglione or a mayonnaise like me. You like mayonnaise, huh? I dream about it! Not to brag, but none of the women in my family or in the neighbourhood could make two eggs yield so much. Look, they seem like ten! Now, there’s a good girl, suck it slowly, it’s more nourishing that way.’

We look into each other’s eyes as the thick liquid stolen from the sun goes down, warming the tongue, the palate.

‘The last spoonful for Mody because she’s more piccina . Little minx! Come on, mmm … all done!’

‘That was so good! I feel all warm inside. Will you let me kiss the hiding place where you keep the sugar?’

‘No!’

‘At least let me touch it.’

‘Okay, touch, but then it’s time to walk. Come on, get a move on, Mody. Apart from everything else, at this hour that bitch Sister Giuliana could arrive. Come on, we have to go from one wall to the other at least ten times…’