Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

‘What are you doing here, you madman? How did you get in? Stay away from me, Mattia! One more step and I’ll blow your head off!’

‘I won’t come any closer. I only came to bring you back the keys. Here: there were three of them. I took them from my father’s key ring. Here they are, Princess, all lined up: the key to the gate, the front door and your room.’

‘And you couldn’t have sent them to me or come during the day?’

‘That’s how Mattia is! He likes to surprise people. Plus, I still had some hope.’

‘What hope, you crazy fool?’

‘That you were lying. We Tudias are jealous of our memories, almost more jealous of our memories of the dead than of the living. But a memory shouldn’t be marred by doubt, and you made me have doubts. So I wanted to follow “his” course through the locks with my own hands, to be certain. You told the truth, and Carmine always lied to his sons.’

‘Let the dead rest in peace and forget about it. Modesta has forgotten everything.’

‘ Brava! First she appears in other people’s houses like a madwoman. Causes a turmoil of speculation with her insinuations, and then she forgets! Why did you come to Carmelo? Did you come to rob us? Why did you kiss him?’

‘I took what your father owed me.’

‘You loved him that much? Well? Do you still love him? I’ve watched you each day; I followed you from a distance. You don’t have so many men as you made me think. You’re alone, and you think about him.’

‘Modesta has forgotten him.’

‘Have you forgotten me, too?’

‘You too. Now get out of here! What do you want from me?’

‘It’s you I want.’

‘There are many women, Mattia.’

‘I’ve looked, but it’s your eyes I saw in theirs. Look into my eyes and put down that gun.’

On the table, three keys in a row — the gate, the front door and my room — glint in the circle of lamplight; they murmur a precise message to my mind, a course confronted in darkness without hesitation. Nunzio is always on guard duty. Lupo and Selassié keep watch.

‘The dogs, you mean? Well, Mattia knows how to get around dogs and watchmen! You’re the only one he doesn’t know how to get around, and believe me, Mody … that’s what he called you, didn’t he?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I know … and believe me, I tried to forget that bone-chilling night as you called it, but the more I tried the colder I felt and the more I yearned for your body’s heat.’

I can’t listen to that warm, pleading voice and, as though hypnotized, my frigid hand sets the gun down by the keys.

‘You’re more beautiful than I remembered! I understand; I asked too much of you.’

‘It won’t work, Mattia. You’re too young, and you’ll start asking questions again and disturbing the peace and quiet of this house.’

‘Try me.’

His hand on mine, in the circle of light, shatters the wave of tranquillity that had lulled my senses for months. There’s danger in the warmth of that hand. I stare into his eyes.

‘I lose myself in your eyes. Don’t make me go … your gaze is like a wind that sweeps me away.’

There’s danger in those eyes, golden like grain. The wind in his eyes sweeps me toward him, and though my frozen body resists, my hand rebels and seeks his palm. In the circle of light, my hand loses its strength in his, and I close my eyes. He picks me up, and with that familiar touch a spell is once again cast over my senses, reawakening joy in my nerves and veins. I wasn’t mistaken: La Certa was watching me from a distance, but only to put me to the test. I must accept the danger, if that danger is the only thing that can revive my senses — but taking my time, without the tremors of youth. And when he, blinded by his young flesh, tries to enter me, I gently stop him.

‘What’s wrong, Modesta?’

‘If you’re a man, Mattia, and not an undependable carusu , you know what you must do.’

‘You’re right, Modesta. But I’ve been wanting you for so long! Squeeze your thighs at least and let me come.’

I squeeze my legs tight and he comes. I wipe up his semen with my palms, smear it over my stomach and breasts, and I come too. He has the same smell as Carmine, the same sharp, salty tang of a life ripened in the sun. La Certa smiles, waiting. She just wants to take away the grief and the part of me, now dead, that I must leave behind. To do this I must accept my youth, that young man with the firm cheeks, unseasoned by wind and rain. Without hesitation, I grab hold of my youth in that bold, tender flesh.

‘Will you let me come back?’

‘Of course, Mattia. I like you when you’re like this.’

‘You like me! What a thing to say … You should love me!’

‘Hush, Mattia; don’t ruin everything.’

Slowly he slips the three keys in with his, watching me and letting me watch him. I could be happy looking at him for ever, at dawn, at dusk, holding him in my arms at night, that body young like mine.

‘Will you let me come back?’

‘You put my keys in with yours. Why are you asking?’

‘So you weren’t asleep?’

‘No, I was watching you.’

‘But your eyes were closed.’

‘I saw you anyway. You’re beautiful naked.’

‘Don’t say that; you make me want you.’

‘Tomorrow, Mattia. Now you have to go.’

‘You’re putting me to the test?’

‘You asked me to.’

‘My hands are shaking; that’s how much I still want you. But I’ll be able to pass the test.’

‘Let’s hope so, Mattia.’

‘You’ll see!’

By now it was clear that a part of me would always belong to them, to that language with its underlying passion that at times made Stella’s voice clear and warm, and at other times darkened it like a threatening sea awaiting a storm:

‘It doesn’t upset you, Princess, if Prando calls me Mama? I tried every way I could to make him get over this habit, but Prando is wilful and stubborn, if anything more so than ’Ntoni.’

‘Why should I be upset, Stella? Let him call you that. If he’s chosen you for a mother, what’s wrong with that? So then, Prando, how many mothers do you have?’

‘I have two mothers, and also two aunts.’

‘Listen to him! And who is this second aunt?’

‘Beautiful Elena!’

‘And do you have brothers too?’

‘No!’

‘What about that one who’s watching you? Isn’t Jacopo your brother?’

‘That one is yours!’

‘’Ntoni is mine … But Jacopo?’

‘No!’

‘Let him be, Stella; he’s nearly asleep. Let him find his own way in his sleep. Tell me, Stella. I can see you’re troubled — is your father causing you concern?’

‘He hasn’t accepted the idea that I’m better off here than at home. It’s Melo I’m worried about. Why hasn’t he come back yet and why hasn’t he written? Signor Carlo has been back from Rome for some time.’

‘But Melo was supposed to go to America after Rome. He must have boarded a ship.’

‘Without dropping us a line? People were killed and wounded in Rome. I heard it. I can’t read the newspapers, but I heard it. Signor Carlo came back gaunt and dejected.’

‘But Carlo is on the other side, Stella, and he’s only disheartened over the success that these ideas of Mussolini have had.’

‘What does that man want, dividing our men like that? Melo is my husband. I shouldn’t say so but he has a violent temper, and I can’t rely on him. If, as Voscenza tells me, Signor Carlo is on the other side, he must be right, since Signor Carlo is a reasonable man. If only he could talk to Melo when he comes back!’

‘Is that what’s bothering you?’