La Famiglia Page 8

They sat in silence for a moment and she spoke. “I think I’m crazy. Why do I keep crying? Why do we keep fighting? The doctor said it’s normal but I wasn’t like this with Eve. Not really. I cry all the time.”

  “Not all the time, only a few days,” he said. “Look at me.”

  She did as he asked.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

  “You do?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow we visit family, and I show you all the places I loved as a child. Tonight I make love to you under the stars, near the sea. So no more tears. Okay?”

  Fleeting memories of their time at the blue grotto surfaced and she smiled. “Okay.”

  The pilot announced their approach. Everyone set their chairs upright. Mira repositioned Eve who woke. She looked around, confused. “Give her to me, Bella,” he said.

  Thankful that Giovanni took their daughter Mira was able to stretch in her chair. Soreness always centered in her pelvis and lower back when she sat too long. She gazed out at Sicily as they coasted and then skidded into a landing. All she saw were trees and tarmac. Her anxiety, as sharp and debilitating as it could be, had dulled to a barely noticeable ache in her chest. She was ready to understand the love affair her husband had with this island.

  After the plane taxied to a stop Giovanni’s top three men who shadowed them always, Leo, Renaldo, and Nico, stood with bowed heads beneath the low roof of the jet and exited the plane. Mira was helped from her seat and escorted down the ladder steps of the plane by Giovanni.

  The first person she sought was her daughter. Nico held Eve. The enforcer was who her daughter reached for first if she couldn’t have mommy or daddy. She hugged his thick neck and pressed her cheek to his as she sucked on her pacifier. The gentle giant of a man, with a mean brood, was serious over his role as guardian. He walked away carrying Eve in his arms. Before Mira could fully process her surroundings her husband swept her into his unyielding embrace and gave her a little spin.

  “Benvenuta all'Sicilia.” He kissed her brow. She eased her arm around his waist to walk by his side to the awaiting car. The impression she had of Sicily at first was a bit underwhelming. Beyond the trees, the land was flat. In the distance she could see mountains with peaks so high they disappeared into the clouds. Nothing remarkable stood out. Sorrento was an oasis of beautiful cliffs and narrow cobbled lane streets. Sorrento was home.

  A cooling wind swept her hair and bangs into her eyes. Mira eased off her sunglasses from the top of her head and slipped them on to withstand the glare of the afternoon.

  Soon after she was ushered to the car waiting for them and they were driven away with two vehicles following. The freeway was congested with braided strands of traffic. The family travelled out of Palermo through one of the main arteries of town. Mira stared at the passing box shaped homes with antennas on flat roofs and laundry drying from the balconies. Locals drove motorbikes, or travelled in passenger vans. The city moved with one heartbeat—east.

  “How far to Mondello?” she inquired.

  “Not far. Lucciola, are you excited?” Giovanni asked their daughter.

  Eve laughed when he reached over and tickled her. She was placed in her car seat between her parents. She played a continuous game of ‘peek-a-boo’ with her father. After a fit of giggles she careened her neck to look out of the window. Mira reached and removed the pacifier from Eve’s mouth and for once her daughter didn’t object. Eve began to talk fast in Italian, English and her own garbled baby language intermixed. Very few words could be understood. She leaned forward in her car seat and pointed at the window as if emphasizing a point. Giovanni smiled and reached to undo her restraints. Possibly he wanted to free her to see the city they drove out of.

  “You know better,” Mira said.

  He grunted in defiance but obeyed her wishes. Eve kept talking and pointing. When her parents didn’t give the proper response Eve began to buck in her restraints and cry to be freed. Mira caved and gave her the pacifier again.

  The city soon retreated and the car drove along cliffs that dropped off to the sea.

  “Are we close?” she asked after twenty minutes into their drive.

  “You just asked me that,” he chuckled.

  “Oh,” Mira said. “I guess I did.”

  “These cliffs stretch up to Monte Gallo. Our familiy’s land is at the foot of the mountain. It’s called Villa Mare Blu.”

  “Blue sea house?” Mira translated.

  “The waters are clear as ice and the sands pure white, like snow. We also have our own private grotto. So much to show you and Evie,” Giovanni boasted.

  Before long they travelled alone on the road through lush emerald green cypress trees. A colorful splash of flowers in bloom could be seen from her window. The road branched off the freeway and steeped down to the bottom of Monte Gallo. The paved road of progress was replaced by the bumpy ride into private property. The trees inched in closer with wild flowers in bloom everywhere. The color purple sprinkled and touched every branch like the surreal beauty of a postcard.

  “Now we’re here,” Giovanni announced.

  Eve clapped. Giovanni clapped with her and their daughter kicked her feet with happiness.

  The car came to a stop.

  The driver opened the door for them. Giovanni was quick about freeing Eve. He pulled her out of her car seat to emerge from the car. Mira stepped out with the assistance of Rosetta who was the first to greet her. The smell of spring flowers and exhaust filled her lungs. She glanced to the villa at the end of a dirt-paved stretch of the road. Immediately Mira noticed three people standing under a stone archway before a palatial two story stone villa. Among them was a beautiful young woman who looked to be Mira’s age. The woman stared directly at Mira with bold self-assuredness.

  “Her name is Carmella,” Rosetta whispered. “She once dated Giovanni when they were kids. Everyone thought they would marry when they were children. But Giovanni never chose a wife. That is until he found you, Donna,” Rosetta clarified.

  Mira’s heart grew hot with envy. What the hell was Carmella doing here if she shared an intimate connection with her husband? She glanced to Rosetta who nodded as if she understood the unspoken question. “She lives here, Donna. With her mother and brother. Takes care of Giovanni when he visits Mondello,” Rosetta added.

  “Bella? Come,” Giovanni extended his hand.

  “Thank you, Rosetta,” Mira said, keeping emotion from her voice. She left the side of the car, careful of the long hem of her green linen summer dress.

  The short older woman with grey and black streaked hair came forward first. “Bambina! At last!” The woman exclaimed. She went straight for Eve with her arms outstretched. Eve was immediately alarmed. She turned her face away, clinging to her father’s neck.

  Giovanni embraced the woman as he would Zia—warm and friendly. He then handed over a protesting baby Eve. Sophia balanced Eve’s resistance to be held and peppered her face with kisses. Mira repressed the urge to take her daughter and soothe her. But after a few soft whispers the toddler relaxed and stared at the stranger in confusion.

  “Mia moglie—my wife,” Giovanni gestured to Mira.

  “Ciao, Donna,” the old woman said. “Benvenuta in Mondello.”

  Mira glanced to Giovanni who nodded his head with encouragement. The woman had a calming spirit like Zia. And she did seem genuine with her excitement over their arrival. The old woman spoke so fast in Sicilian that Mira barely understood her. From a rough translation she gleamed that her name was Sophia and she and her family considered themselves caretakers of the place.

  Mira nodded her head hello and locked eyes with Carmella. It wasn’t until the woman’s name was spoken by her mother did she approach them. And Mira disliked her approach immediately. Everything from her smile to the sway of her slender hips was directed toward Mira’s husband. Her flawless olive skin glowed with pale gold undertones. The moistness of her full pouty lips spread into a seductive smile that only made her more attractiv
e. Carmella was close to Mira’s age apparently. But they differed in appearance in many ways. Her hair was cut in a short-cropped style with dark curls that framed her deep-set brown eyes. She had a cover model’s figure. She wore a pair of jeans and a low cut shirt that revealed her tiny waist and uplifted double D sized breasts. Was this the kind of woman Giovanni dated? Did he find Carmella attractive? Mira looked to her husband who had what she considered a goofy smile on his face. She felt the urge to smack him.

  “Giovanni, you’ve finally made it. We’ve been waiting. Come è stato il tuo volo?”

  She asked about his flight. It was a very causal greeting. However, Mira didn’t appreciate the familiarity between them. It was intimate, affectionate, and exclusive. She watched the woman touch her husband’s sleeve. Carmella’s fingers gathered around the material and gripped tightly. And then she moved in to offer a customary kiss to both of his cheeks while brushing his chest with her breasts. And the kisses landed too close to the corner of Giovanni’s mouth. The harlot had to lift on her toes like a ballerina to do so. Giovanni aided by holding Carmella’s elbows. Mira’s eyes stretched when Giovanni had the nerve to return the kiss to Carmella’s left and right cheek.

  “I want you to meet my Bella,” Giovanni said with a proud boastful voice. The woman turned her brown eyes toward Mira. “Carmella, this is—”

  Carmella interjected with a smile. “I know who she is, Gio. The world does. You were a beautiful bride. We came to the wedding. You might not remember Mama and me.”

  “I don’t,” Mira replied.

  The woman glanced over to Eve, as if Mira’s response didn’t matter. “And this is your bambina? Oh my! She has your eyes, Gio. She’s adorable. Ciao, bambina.”

  Eve blinked at the woman and sucked harder on her pacifier. Before long her daughter burst into tears over the unwanted attention from Carmella. Mira couldn’t help but smile. That’s right, baby, tell the tramp to back off. Giovanni took Eve from Sophia and she immediately stopped the crying.

  Anthony was introduced next. He told the men to follow him with the luggage in Italian after greeting Mira with kisses to the cheek. He had to be fifteen or sixteen. Rosetta and Cecilia joined Mira. Carmella seemed to recognize Rosetta, but her greeting was less than friendly. Rosetta responded in the same cool detached manner.

  “Everyone inside. Prego!” Sophia said.

  She started off and the others followed. Giovanni extended his hand to Mira. It was expected that he be the one to escort her and their daughter into their family home. She made a point to refuse him. His brows lifted in surprise over the rejection. She continued on with Cecilia and Rosetta.

  Tall trees with wide spread palm leaves made the afternoon sun less blistering for the short walk to the door. Villa Mare Blu was something to behold. Built entirely of ancient stone the front of the villa was a grand estate where citrus and olive trees grew all around. It reminded her of one of those great monasteries from the 1700s. At the very top of the flat roof was a distinctive tower that housed a cast iron bell inside. The stone architecture had a weathered charm with wild vines creeping up the walls, twisting around the second floor wrought iron balconies. A cobbled stone walkway, flanked by purple wildflowers on either side, had a smooth paved finish that made it easy for her to cross. Mira kept her gaze fiercely focused on Carmella. The woman glanced back at her once and the smile she gave was absent of warmth. In that brief exchange all of Mira’s suspicions were confirmed.

  Signorina Carmella was not happy to see the new Donna in the family.

  Giovanni caught up with Mira. He forced his hand into hers. She squeezed it hard. He chuckled and brought her hand to his lips. He heaved Eve up in his free arm, unaffected by her cold aloof manner. As soon as they stepped inside he became her tour guide.

  “My mother’s heart went into the renovation of these floors. They’re made from ancient terracotta coated with this Sicilian majolica. It’s the kind of glaze you see on pottery that makes it look like glass. It’s how the floors would have been hundreds of years ago in this region. She wanted to preserve the history of this place, and the influence of the different cultures on this island. Especially for the Baldamentis.”

  “Who?”

  “The Battaglia family lineage traces back to the Baldamentis. They were the Sicilians who owned this region at one time. Very influential family on my father’s, mother’s side.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you like the floors? Nice eh?”

  “It’s okay,” Mira said. Giovanni pulled her closer. He forced her to wrap her arm around his waist and placed his across her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head as if she was the one that needed forgiveness. The man was willfully confused. They walked through the spacious halls and rooms of their new home. It was by far more charming than the place Lorenzo kept in Bellagio. The furnishing had an Indian and Moroccan feel to it—old and new mixed together in a comfortable arrangement of sofa chairs and hand carved end tables. And though it was only two stories, as opposed to four like Melanzana, the villa had huge open archways and rooms with wide windows. Natural light flooded in from every angle.

  In Villa Mare Blu one room led straight to a zen garden. The flow of running water out of a marble carved fountain in the likeness of a Greek goddess was very calming. Mira wondered what happened when it rained. She figured the awnings with Spanish influenced shingles most likely kept any rain from pouring inside.

  “Bella, there are two bedrooms down here. There’s a sitting room that leads to the gardens, entertainment rooms, and a full dining room. There are six more rooms upstairs. Ours is the largest. In ours there is a belvedere off of our bedroom where we can dine alone if you want. And a large bathroom with a shower you will like.”

  “Mmhm,” she replied.

  “This is the kitchen. We only have one. See the brick oven for cooking the rolls you and Zia love to make?” Giovanni asked. Alone with him she shrugged off his hold and turned with her arms crossed.

  “Who is Carmella?” she asked.

  Giovanni’s brows lowered with concern. He studied her as if she were crazy for even asking. He shifted Eve in his arms and turned as if he was going to dismiss her question.

  “You heard me!” Mira said. “Is she the reason why you were so excited to come here? What is she to you? Your goumada!” Mira shouted. She yelled the accusation so loud her throat hurt under the strain. “I saw you. Embarrassing me in front of everyone by kissing her!”

  “I don’t have time for this shit!” he passed Eve off on her. To her surprise he walked out. Mira stood there unsure of her next move. Did she chase after him, or let him go? Mostly Giovanni tolerated her angry outbursts, but he rarely walked out on a fight. She started to go after him when Cecilia walked into the kitchen.

  “Donna? Are you okay? I heard you yell.”

  Mira realized tears had slipped down her cheeks. She felt the burn of shame and tried to hide her face. “No. I’m not okay. I’m tired. I feel funny.”

  “Do you want me to go get—”

  “Leave him alone,” Mira said. She held Eve as best she could but her daughter felt as if she grew an inch on the flight. And Eve made the effort worse. She kept kicking Mira in her stomach as she fidgeted to be put down to explore her new surroundings.

  “Here, let me take her.” Cecilia reached for Eve who looked relieved to have her offer. “I can get her changed for lunch. Sophia told me to tell you she’s prepared a nice meal for us.”

  Mira glanced around the kitchen at the covered dishes and realized she was hungry. She’d go upstairs and splash water on her face. That usually calmed her. And then she’d find Giovanni and apologize for her outburst. “Where’s my room?”

  “I’d be happy to show you.” Carmella volunteered. She had apparently been watching them silently from the door.

  “No thanks,” Mira replied.

  The women stared. Mira didn’t have the energy or tolerance needed to pretend at civility. She wanted Carmella out of he
r home immediately but first she needed some air. “I’ll find the room myself.”

  “I know where it is. I’ve been here before,” Rosetta volunteered. She too had appeared from the other entranceway into the kitchen. Mira felt a sense of relief. Rosetta was the best person next to Catalina that Mira trusted. She followed her to the stairs. She could hear Giovanni shouting at one of his men about something. She made sure to avoid her husband. She was too embarrassed. Had the entire villa heard her accusations? Maybe that’s why Carmella, Rosetta, and Cecilia all stared at her the way they did. Thankfully the stairs were to the back instead of the front of the villa.

  When she finally reached her room she was in tears. Something was wrong with her. She knew it. The crying wasn’t the worst of it. Her anxiety consumed her. She was coming apart. Giovanni tried to make light of it but she knew they couldn’t go on like this for much longer.

  Mira sat on the bed. She missed Fabiana. With her best friend her anxiety attacks were only about the latest line of clothes she’d send down the runway, or Kei’s pressure to marry. They’d sip wine and talk her through the stress. Her mood swings were blamed on an artist’s temperament. Kei and Fabiana used to joke that she was worse than a toddler when stressed. It dawned on her that she’d felt this hopelessness before. She cried often and slipped into the black void of depression when she was pregnant with Eve. But that was to be expected since Fabiana was dead and she believed at the time that Giovanni was lost to her. Now the friendships she had with Kei and Fabiana had ended. And she felt so guilty over the loss. If she had never come to Italy maybe things would have been different.

  New York, New York - 1988

  “There! Right there! There he is!” Fabiana waved her hand above the heads of the others dining in Le Cheriee from their corner table. She’d chosen a trendy sidewalk French cafe not far from their office, where ladies lunched, and businessmen cut deals. Mira hated the exposure. She cringed inwardly. Fabiana could always be counted on to make a scene, she thought with the cut of her eyes.

  The hostess saw Fabiana’s wave and started toward them. The young statuesque woman with dark Hershey brown skin wore a slimming tight black mini dress and a trendy auburn red pageboy haircut that made her quite striking. She strutted toward them on stilts for legs. Mira wondered if the young woman ever considered runway modeling. Teddy strolled behind the hostess, trailing drool. His gaze was glued to the young girl’s ass. Mira shook her head.