Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

Without giving me time to say anything, her lips began sucking me as though she were really drinking.

‘I’m not thirsty anymore now. It’s your turn.’

With a sure gesture she pulled out her breast and forced me, her hand unexpectedly strong, to drink from her nipple as she had done from mine.

‘That’s it, like that, drink. You have to close your eyes; you’ll satisfy your thirst better.’

I squeezed my eyes shut. I froze in astonishment.

‘Go on, suck me. Be a good little picciridda . If you don’t eat you won’t grow. You’ll wither away, and gaunt La Certa will come and gather your bones. There, eat and you’ll grow … Hush, hush, picciridda , relax.’

I couldn’t relax. I was frozen, embarrassed, seeing her play with my breasts, my hair, my ears. How was it possible?

‘You’re all chilled and sweaty, Modesta. Here, I’ll dry you. You don’t think it’s a sin, do you? What harm is there? After all, we’re both women. We won’t get pregnant.’

That made me laugh out loud … Tuzzu used to laugh when I … ‘ Listen to this picciridda — a retort worthy of the impudent scamp she is! ’

I thought I was laughing and instead, to my surprise, I found myself crying on her chest. She was tall now, and her arms sheltered me.

‘Oh, are you crying? Don’t cry. It’s not a sin, I promise you. Here, come, let me drink all those nice salty tears.’

I submitted. I felt cold.

But little by little her caresses slowly melted the chill of my surprise, and a warmth I had never felt before made me say, ‘No, Beatrice, it’s not a sin.’

And so, for the first time in my life, fui amata amando , I loved and was loved in return, as the aria goes. 18Something so rare that even now, I can recall the feeling of lightness that made me open my eyes in the morning, secure in the new adventure that was born from our embrace. Together we ran through the rooms, the garden, the avenue lined with palm trees … Our lessons and afternoon tea were the only interruptions in our solitude as a twosome. But they were brief interruptions, since a look, or a caress under the table, or her brushing my shoulder as we played the piano always reassured us that we would soon be together again.

‘Shall we play baby and tata ?’

‘Yes.’

‘This time you be the tata and I’ll be the baby.’

‘Which do you prefer, being the tata or the baby?’

‘Oh, it makes no difference to me, as long as I can be near you and hold you.’

‘Me too.’

Surrendering to her, I left behind that inferno of qualms and bands and lava walls. The convent receded when I stared into her eyes. It collapsed behind me and I could see the stars again. Was that what paradise was: love? I didn’t know what that word meant: ‘the Love that moves the sun and the other stars’. 19

Naturally, when she embraced me everything revolved around me. It wasn’t like with Tuzzu or with Mother Leonora. A tenderness I had never known before made me feel serene among the trees that revolved around the sun, confident that I would not fall.

When she undressed me, I learned from her what colour my skin was, how many moles I had on my back …

‘You have a slim waist too. It’s just that you don’t wear a corset. See, it’s almost as slender as mine. Don’t you believe me? Here, I’ll get the measuring tape. Plus you’re taller and have wider hips, and you’re not lame.’

That word was always followed by tears. To make them stop I just had to kiss the leg that was slightly thinner and shorter than the other.

‘Don’t you find it repulsive?’

‘Repulsive? Of course not! I only find it moving, Beatrice. Don’t be silly.’

‘My tata said the same thing. Will you give me some milk like she did?’

‘First I’ll cover you with my hair.’

‘Oh yes, I’m so cold!’

And she pretended to be so cold — there in the sun — that it made her tremble.

‘And what’s this, between your legs?’

‘A meadow.’

‘Can I rest my lips there and feel how soft the grass is?’

But the grass down in the meadow was damp that morning.

‘Did you hear that storm we had last night? The first thunderstorm this summer. Soon it will be autumn, Modesta.’

Huge clouds looming on the horizon shut off our view, like a lofty wall of lava. I had forgotten that wall.

‘Soon you’ll have to leave … Stay here with me, Modesta!’ By now she said it in a whisper, like you say a prayer that will never be granted, or like a faint refrain: ‘Stay, stay.’ I hugged her so she wouldn’t see how much I wanted to stay. Only by burying my face in her shoulder could I say: ‘God is calling me.’

I no longer wanted to go away, now that Beatrice was kissing every inch of my naked body, and now that I too could kiss her endlessly whenever I wanted. What did it matter if that house was essentially a convent, and that there were no men? What did I care about men now that I had her? All I would have in the place I had to go back to was that solitary love I now knew was called masturbation. Such a sad thing, I thought, what nuns do, and I had to laugh.

‘What are you doing, laughing?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you know, you look like a different person now that you’re laughing? If you would only take off those bands and wear a corset! Or at least let Argentovivo comb your hair to look softer, with a curl or two hanging down, like mine. She’s very skilful.’

‘I would never let Argentovivo touch me!’

‘If that’s the case, I can comb your hair myself, and make a chignon.’

‘I can’t, Beatrice. Besides, what good is it for such a short time? Twenty more days and…’

How could I not go back? How could I lose my vocation so suddenly in the eyes of the Princess and Beatrice herself? And what if Beatrice tired of me? I had no choice.

‘I told her, you know. I told Nonna not to make you leave. Two days ago. But she didn’t answer. Then yesterday she sent me this note. Look: “Leave that girl alone. You’re just headstrong and thoughtless like your mother was. And you know it!”’

‘Does she mean your mother, Mother Leonora? So you’ve spoken about her?’

‘Once, many years ago. You can understand, can’t you? It wasn’t just capriciousness; I wanted to know. Here, and even in Catania, I had heard rumours. So I kept insisting until she sent for me and said: “All right, since you must know, so much the worse for you.” That much I remember, but I don’t remember anything else about that conversation. It’s odd, but maybe because I was nervous I only remember the beginning and the end … The end was: “And now that you know, call me Nonna in private, face to face, because you are not my real daughter.” But I don’t want you to think she said it hatefully. You know how she is; she yells and shouts but then…’

‘And did she also tell you about Carmine?’

‘Of course. She always says that either you lie completely, or you tell everything.’

Look at that! I was learning so many things from that mute old woman. She was right.

‘What upset me the most wasn’t learning the truth, which I had more or less guessed, but…’

‘What?’

‘Well, Nonna said that when Leonora found herself pregnant, she could easily have ended my life before I was born — for me it would have been a blessing — and then married just the same, or she could have kept me and passed me off as her sister. Not exactly a tragedy! Even the Milazzos, neither rich nor noble as we are, have a daughter whom they pass off as their youngest but who is actually the child of their eldest daughter.’