Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

‘He destroyed my life and that of my mother with his controlling ways. He made me leave a woman who was an angel, but I believed in him, in his word, his assurance.’

‘What assurance?’

‘That all his life he loved only us. But you say the old man was lying.’

‘We all lie.’

‘No! Not him, no! You dropped your gun, Princess.’

‘So pick it up. It’s a night for death, Mattia. When someone dies, he calls those he’s loved to him.’

‘What are you doing now? Are you going?’

‘I’m going in to my son.’

‘Who is also “his” son.’

‘His exact likeness, you should say.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘Come tomorrow, in the daytime, and I’ll show you my young Carmine.’

‘Wait. I believe you … before you go in, tell me the truth. If what you said is true, you must know…’

‘What?’

‘How did my mother die?’

‘In childbirth. That’s what your father said.’

‘They told me she killed herself … that she killed herself in an appalling way … with rat poison … cursing Carmine and her sons.’

‘I don’t know anything about that, Mattia. Now go! What you say is dreadful.’

‘Dreadful, is it! But you must know these things if it’s true that you were his woman. Let me come in with you. I have to know no matter what.’

‘Come in. I wouldn’t have chased you away.’

‘… He came here?’

‘Every night.’

‘Why are you lying down now?’

‘I’m tired, Mattia. I haven’t slept since yesterday. I waited up for him all night.’

‘He was supposed to come here last night as well?’

‘Yes.’

‘And when you didn’t see him, you came looking for him?’

‘To see him dead.’

‘You knew? He confided in you, a stranger! I put the gun on the table, Princess. From what I can see, given the way you live, you might need it. Well? No answer?’

‘I’m sleepy, Mattia, and cold. Besides there’s no use talking to you. You’re afraid to know the truth and you insult me.’

‘If my mother hadn’t died that way…’

‘Who told you that? Maybe it’s a lie.’

‘No! Her sister told me … and she also said … Or maybe you’re right, you’re a woman and you know about these things … You’re beautiful when I look into your eyes. Or maybe you just have beautiful eyes … Who are you? A sphinx, maybe? How old are you? Let me hold you. I want to know.’

‘Know?’

‘How come I find you so appealing? You’re round and warm … I liked you from the first moment … your hair is like silk. Did he caress it? Did he talk to you?’

‘Later on, yes.’

‘Later on, when?’

‘When he knew he was going to die. But before that he never spoke.’

‘Did he hurt you, too?’

‘He’s dead, Mattia.’

‘Are you thinking of him? Is that why you won’t look at me?’

‘He’s dead, Mattia. Let’s accept it.’

* * *

‘Did I fall asleep, Modesta? How could I?’

‘You were exhausted.’

‘He’s really dead then if I fell asleep inside you.’

‘Yes, but we’re alive, figlio . Did you feel how alive we are?’

‘Why did you call me that? And why are you crying now? I can’t stand to see a woman cry. Are you crying for him?’

‘Him too. I’ll get over it.’

‘Why are you touching your stomach, your breasts?’

‘I’m trying to see if I’m going to have another son with you. For every person who dies, another one is born.’

‘And this makes you cry?’

‘No. I’d like to give a life for a death.’

‘Don’t be so ambiguous. Stroke my hair like you did before. I felt it while I was sleeping. No one ever caressed me that way.’

‘No one was ever a mother to you? That aunt of yours?’

‘Maybe she wanted to, but she was stern and cold like her brother.’

‘Oh! She was Carmine’s sister?’

‘Yes, she was his sister, and she obeyed him like a slave. He said that no one must take the place of his wife, and on Sundays, after mass, he would bring us to her room, which had been left untouched … You could still smell her perfume — so he said — and he would open the wardrobes filled with her clothes. He made me and Vincenzo, who always trembled, think about her on our knees … what can I say? like a prayer, for at least five minutes, though it felt like centuries. It seemed like I spent my entire childhood that way. Then I rebelled, and when I saw them, him and Vincenzo, shut themselves up in that room, I felt a wild urge to run and run. And I ran through the fields for hours until I was worn out. Why, Modesta, why?’

‘Your hair is wiry and curly like…’

‘Like whose?’

‘Like Eriprando’s, my son.’

‘Oh! Is that his name? I’ve never heard that name before; it must be foreign.’

‘Who knows how this son of mine will grow up, with that name.’

‘Does it worry you? Even Vincenzo, who is my brother, sometimes seems foreign to me.’

‘Your father said the same things about you.’

‘He’s really dead, Modesta, if my heart can hear these things without breaking.’

‘He’s dead, Mattia. The woods are beginning to glimmer. It will be day soon. You have to go.’

‘Why?’

‘You can’t stay here.’

‘Do you have another man?’

‘I have a son.’

‘What does that matter?’

‘We can’t upset anyone.’

‘You talk like Carmine: don’t upset anyone! But meanwhile you play dirty tricks on them, right?’

‘Don’t shout!’

‘Tell me the truth! Do you have another man?’

‘No, Mattia. Use your head; we don’t know each other! Tomorrow, come tomorrow. We have to give it some thought…’

‘She goes to bed with a man and we don’t know each other, she says!’

‘I told you not to shout! This domineering attitude is not welcome in my house.’

‘Why can’t I tear myself away from you? Did you perhaps have this power over him, too? Why can’t I make myself leave?’

‘I feel the same way, but we have to wait.’

‘That’s not what you said last night.’

‘It was a bone-chilling night.’

‘The more I look at you, the more beautiful you seem. Will you let me come back?’

‘At night you can come back whenever you want.’

‘And how will I get through the gate?’

‘You can find the key among your father’s keys.’

‘You even gave him a key!’

‘Carmine and I loved each other, carusu .’

‘Loved each other? Or maybe, it seems to me, he only came to you because you open the door to anyone at night?’

‘I don’t like the way you talk. We two don’t understand one another. You go your way and I’ll go mine.’

‘Your way is contemptible. I spit on it!’ Mattia shouts, rising to his feet. His naked body reflected in the dawn dazzles my pupils. I mustn’t look at the beauty of those limbs. In the movement of his taut back, the trunk of a young tree, I glimpse a future that has nothing to do with me. And despite a strong desire to call him back and hold him close, I shut my eyes: I mustn’t let his image worm its way into my soul. Carmine is right: you can look away and remain your own master. ‘ One must be cautious with that word “love”; it’s a trap nature plants amid the most fragrant herbs, which even the most clever animals can fall into. ’ How many hares and rabbits we found caught in the snare at dawn, Carmine, when we woke up at daybreak and ran to the woods to see, remember? But although the same light has suddenly flooded the room, Carmine will not be under the window calling Modesta and Beatrice, who must learn to hold a rifle like a couple of real men. ‘ As you wish, Princess! I have no doubts about the Padroncina , but the Principessina is shaking all over and…’ Carmine moves off between the trees and the sky … Or is it his son who is already passing through the gate, walking away slowly? Behind the window, I follow those steps until they disappear, swallowed up by the green.