Olive oil still sat on the counter, some product of an ancient tree that probably still bore fruit. Opening a cabinet, I put my entire head in and imagined rows and rows of jams of all different kinds picked from our own trees.
Then the cabinet fell and hit me on the head.
I laughed, rubbing the spot. I attempted to fix it, but it hung crookedly.
“If you buy it, you can fix it.” Rosaria shrugged and made some sort of Italian gesture with her hand.
“What?” I laughed a bit more. “Buy it?”
“The villa. It is for sale. A dear family member can no longer tend to its needs.”
“I can’t buy this place.” I spun around, eyes wide, more than fearful at the prospect ofjust buying a villa in Italy.
“Why not? You have the money, no?”
“We do.”
“I do not see the problem.” She cocked her head to the side, studying me. “Come. Let me show you something else.”
She took my hand and led me back outside. She pointed out different things as we passed—two barns that were connected, two terraces for outside dining—you have eleven hectares here,she said, including olive trees and a variety of fruit trees. All mature.Then she led me over a small wooden bridge, over a tributary of the river Massellone. The water snaked and ran through the gardens, leading us to a private area that hosted a pool filled with glistening blue water. It reminded me of an exotic lagoon, complete with waterfalls.
Brando loves to swim! He could relax after a hot day, the sun still playing on his dark skin, causing his eyes to shine. He could do it naked. The water dripping from his hair, down his neck, his back…
I smiled.
“You see,” Rosaria said to me as we made our way back in, “this place is for you and your beast.”
“I can’t buy a villa in Siena, Rosaria.”
I inhaled a lung full of air. It was then that I realized, that above all, the placesmelledlike home to me. The undertone of a rich Mediterranean current reminded me of my husband.
“We have covered this already,bella. You can do whatever you like. If your heart speaks to you, listen to it. Money is no matter.”
“What logic,” I muttered.
“There is one more thing I would like to show you.” She licked her lips. “It will take a while.”
We sat out on the balcony that was connected to the master bedroom, drinking the Chianti that came with the mysterious package, picking on the cheese and eating the pears. After a little time, the Tuscan hills seemed to rise up and meet the night sky, light surrendering to darkness.
“Now you are allowed to float,” she said.
“Holy Mary,” I breathed out.
I could connect every constellation as the Milky Way seemed to pour over the villa from a galaxy far, far away.
“The name of the villa isdare alla luce,” Rosaria said.
She took another bite of her pear, her eyes twinkling with the light of the stars above and her lips glistening with fruit juice.
“To give birth,” I translated.
“Sì. It is the way the house is cloaked in total darkness at night, except for the love of the stars, and then when the time comes for the darkness to give over to the light, she breaks free and basks in the glory of it. She gives herself over to it. She not only reflects it, she bathes in it. You see this?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “I do.”
Silence became us for a while, and then I cleared my throat. “Rosaria, do you think it can also mean breaking the surface?”
She looked over at me and gave me an innocent smile, which I could tell was rare for her.
