Uncomfortable, I replied, “Olga is… I don’t know, she’s…” I didn’t want to say anything, because I couldn’t find anything nice to say. “Olga’s just Olga.”
Giving me a squeeze, she said, “Don’t worry, when people ask about my late husbands, may they rest in peace, the best thing I can find to say is that they were very clean. Clean! Can you imagine? And they were wonderful men, I could fill a book with all the reasons why.”
“You lost two husbands? I’m so sorry.”
“Yep, I’m a widow twice over. Now no man in the village will go out with me.” She chuckled.
Walking among the lemon trees with the sounds of cicadas in the background, Catalina told me about the two men. Vicenzo was her first true love, a man bursting with character, impulsive, impassioned. Their life together was intense, but a heart attack brought it to a quick end. All she had left of him were her memories and her wonderful son, Giulio.
Years later, she met Alonzo, and again she felt things she thought were impossible. For thirty years, they lived a life of sweet and serene love, and with him, she had her daughter, Angela. She told me that she still kept his clothes in the closet even though he’d died threeyears ago. And every night, she opened the doors and smelled his shirts before going to bed.
Little by little, I got a feeling for what her life had been like, and as I learned who she was, I wanted her story to be a part of mine, too. To feel that I was the fruit of something special, no matter how idealistic or stupid that sounds.
21
It took me an hour to overcome my nerves and leave the house, and I had spent that hour at the window, listening to the voices rising up from the garden. I had now been in Sorrento for four days. Four days, and I’d never stopped feeling like a stranger, never stopped hearing those hundreds of voices telling me to run away and forget all that had happened.
It wasn’t just about me anymore. It wasn’t just about finding answers. Any step I took would affect other people, changing their lives with no turning back, and why? Because of some photographs that might mean nothing?
I felt on edge as I walked down the stairs. I toyed with my ponytail. This had turned into a tic, and I was doing it constantly, the same way I used to always press my hair down when I had it pulled into a bun. I’d had these habits for years, but I was only now becoming aware of them.
The back door was open, and from the vestibule I could see the wreaths of lights hanging in the trees and illuminating the space warmly. Outside, I found everyone around the table except for Marco, Lucas, and Julia’s nephews.
A waitress at Lucas’s work was sick and he was taking over hershifts, so I’d hardly seen him since the barbecue. He only came home long enough to sleep and shower.
As soon as everyone saw me, they made a space for me at the table. Giulio cheerfully served me a glass of some liqueur, and his good mood instantly made me feel better. I took a sip and shivered. It was strong, but it tasted good. “Thanks. What is it?” I asked.
“Limoncello,” he replied, sitting back down next to Dante.
“So, Maya, how do you like it here?” Iria asked.
“It’s great,” I said. “Everything is so calm and so pretty.”
“Where have you been, then?” Julia inquired. “We’ve barely seen you.”
“At home. But I’ve gone out to take a few walks.”
Julia continued, “You never told us about your life in Madrid, what you do for work, if there’s a boyfriend in the picture…”
As Roy rolled his eyes, Catalina chastised her. “That’s because it’s none of our business. We’re here to listen, not to ask questions. If Maya wants to tell us something, she knows where we are.”
We exchanged a trusting glance, and I was grateful she had done that for me. She must have been able to tell I struggled to talk about my past. Was I that easy to see through? It was just that anything I said could lead Giulio to think something. Especially anything about ballet, the conservatory, or my mother.
“Hello, everyone.”
I heard Lucas behind me. “Did you start the party without me?” he went on.
Catalina threw her arms around him and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. She told him he looked tired, and he replied that he was exhausted. Then Dante announced, “Daniella’s better. She’ll be back tomorrow. You can take the day off.”
Collapsing into the chair next to me and yawning into his hand, Lucas asked, “For real? That would be amazing.” He bent over, grabbeda glass, and added ice and a little limoncello before leaning back and patting me on the knee, saying hello. The warmth of his hand was comforting, even magnetic. But Roy interrupted the moment by asking him how to connect some cable or other to the TV, and Lucas promised he’d help him with it the next day. Blas told us he was watching a German series about time travelers, and Iria butted in to say she’d seen four episodes and still didn’t really know what it was about.
“You’d understand better if you didn’t always fall asleep five minutes in,” he said, to everyone’s amusement.
The conversation flowed on easily, with discussion of travel, TV series, gossip, politics, and anything else that popped into people’s heads. I listened along and tried to participate, but I could hardly get a word in edgewise. I didn’t know anything about anything, and I was starting to feel bad about it, as though they came from one planet and I came from another.
Saying I needed to stretch my legs, I stood and walked off. My head was hurting. I let down my hair and combed my fingers through it. Feeling relieved, I asked myself why I didn’t just leave it down all the time. Why I kept walking the way I did, bending the arches of my feet or resting them on my toes to keep the swelling down with my own warmth. There was no need for any of that now.
I heard steps behind me. It was Lucas coming close.
