Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

‘So, you want to take your revenge on me?’

‘That too. If a son dies, your son, you’ll regret giving birth to me. And you’ll be an old woman with regrets, for ever bound to my memory.’

‘You’ve loved me that much, Prando?’

‘That much. But you haven’t!’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because you lived for everyone else, always travelling around, damn you, giving speeches and cosying up to everybody.’

‘Was I supposed to choose you, and reject a life?’

‘Yes.’

‘Prando, you have always wanted it all, even as a child. “Prando has two Mamas: Mama Stella and Mama Mody, and two aunts besides.” Remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘So then tell me: what could I do, I who am so much like you, who, like you, want it all?’

‘That’s true too! Finally a smile, Mama. When you smile, you become young again, like when I was a child. Prando is a bastard, but he’s also proud when you smile and look like a young girl … I want to hold you in my arms, and don’t protest, right, because I’m not well! Here, close to me, my mamma bambina , or did you lie? Maybe it wasn’t even you who gave birth to me? Maybe you’re my sister? With you, anything is possible. That’s what drives me wild! Even when I’m dead, it will drive me crazy!’

‘Yet you know that if I had been docile, all yours like Amalia, you would have tired of me, as you have of her.’

‘It’s true. Prando tires easily of the things he possesses. Money only bores me now that I have it, and even the motorcycle. I pretend it’s important to me, but I’ve lost my taste for it now that everyone can have one.’

‘I know you, Prando. Shall we put our cards on the table?’

‘Let’s put our cards on the table. What are you trying to say?’

‘Knowing your greed is insatiable, it seemed pointless to me to sacrifice myself.’

‘You mean you realized that the more slack you gave me, the more you bound me to you?’

‘Maybe, if you feel that way about it. Maybe … Who can fully understand their actions when it comes to love or affection? I only know that nobody likes the idea of being cast aside, and you, you’re a man who takes and discards … Who could you have got this from? The old man wasn’t like that. He knew how to love the things he won.’

‘Don’t talk to me about the past. The past is boring!’

‘You see? You rob life with both hands. With both hands you seized it — admit it! — and now you want to throw it away.’

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t your children mean anything to you?’

‘Very little! I like Carluzzu: he’s tough, he knows what he wants. Did you know he beat me up once?’

‘Yes.’

‘What a keen mind he has!’

‘Why didn’t you prevent him from seeing me all this time?’

‘Damn if I didn’t try! But you know what his reaction was? Didn’t he tell you? He replied abruptly with a few harsh words: “You will not stand in my way. You’re just an old Fascist has-been.” That’s exactly what he said. Just between us, Mama, I had to laugh. You like Carluzzu, don’t you?’

‘I’ve never liked anyone more.’

‘Then you have to give me some credit, because he’s my son after all, isn’t he? What resolve that boy has! And what integrity! Take military service … With a little money, I could have had him declared unfit and instead … Well, he’s leaving! In a few months he’s leaving and there’s nothing I can do about it. But why?’

‘He’s right. He says that having been raised in a privileged setting, the military will help him understand his country.’

‘Yes, yes, he says things like that but … when he comes back he has to join the practice with me! Otherwise who will I leave it to?’

‘Get it out of your head, Prando. Try to understand once and for all…’

‘You always side together, dont you! I knew it, and to tell you the truth, this is the only thing that has consoled me during these years and allowed me to keep tabs on you. Through him I kept up with you. Your affection for each other gratified me — who knows why? We really are a mystery to ourselves when it comes to matters of love and affection … Who said that, you or him?’

‘I did, a few minutes ago.’

‘Oh, right. I’m not a good listener, I know. Even Bambuccia is always telling me that. But he knows how to listen, right?’

‘Of course, and you should hear him tell stories!’

‘Enough, or I’ll get jealous! Instead tell me, you old sorceress, what do you think of Ignazio?’

‘He’s your spitting image and you know it. Why even ask?’

‘Yes … my spitting image.’

‘Why are you frowning like that? Why do you avoid him? Bambù told me.’

‘What can I say to someone who is just like me? I’ve been fed up with myself for years! Oh, Mody, listen…’

‘Why are you calling me Mody now?’

‘I want to explain why I really came back to you. I didn’t come back to my mother, but to my best friend. Because you’ve been a friend to me, Mody, I have to tell you. I need an ally now who knows about my heart condition — a complete secret is heavy to bear and you, I know, will not annoy me by whining and offering advice as Amalia, Bambù or even Mattia would.’

‘You know you can count on me.’

‘I know. But you must swear to me on Carluzzu that no one will ever know anything.’

‘I swear.’

‘Come here; look me in the eye. You’re tough, old lady! How is it possible that I don’t see any dismay, not a tear in your eyes?’

‘You’d like me to cry now? To be worried about you?’

‘No. My esteem for you would lessen. But will you be able to keep it up tomorrow or a month from now as well?’

‘Try me.’

‘Look at that! Now she’s challenging me! And to this challenge, my dear Mody, I add another. Listen, I’ve had an idea: Once the mourning for Pietro is over, would you be willing to arrange a party for me and my heart? A party for us two and our secret? I want a very grand party. The whole island must feel the joy. You must prepare it with your own hands, and I’ll see if these beautiful little hands I’m kissing tremble. Can you do it? If you’re up to such a contest — and whoever heard of such a thing, celebrating your own son’s engagement to this slut of an illness clinging to his heart? — if you can do it, Prando will reward you by wanting to live, you can be sure of it. The excitement he feels for this wager is already causing life to flow back into his veins. But watch out, old woman, it won’t be easy. I’ll follow you step by step, watch your every gesture, your every expression. And if you so much as quaver or grow sad, you’ll lose.’

The grove of orange and lemon trees lit by thousands of little light bulbs — back then we couldn’t have done it with candles, could we, Beatrice? — slowly fades in the glow of dawn. Yet couples holding one another tightly continue circling in the marble dance area where the two staircases meet. Prando slowly climbs Carmelo’s broad steps, looking for his mother. All night he’s watched me; soon we’ll know who won the contest. I did not tremble as I feared I would, and now I know the reason for this serenity of mine in the face of Pietro’s death and Prando’s illness. It’s not indifference, a blunting of the senses due to age, as I had suspected. It’s the complete mastery of emotion and a supreme awareness of each precious moment that life rewards you with if you have courage and a steady hand … Carmine slowly climbs the stairs of Carmelo. Now I know, old man, the deep sense of freedom and joy you felt before dying, and I no longer envy you. I’ve acquired your skill, and from now on there will only be joy for me. I see it in my future and in your eyes, Prando.