by D. M. George
The answer revealed itself when she attacked Parthenope’s mound of warped and faded reading material. She grouped paperbacks in neat stacks by genre: romance, mystery, and travel guides. Fashion magazines went in one pile and newspapers in another. As she worked, a tabloid cover caught her attention: JACKIE O REINCARNATED AS MERMAID IN CAPRI. The story came with a grainy photo of Parthenope taken with a telephoto lens. She sat on a rock with her tail barely visible, wearing a pair of enormous white sunglasses. Perla laughed out loud and kept laughing until she sobbed. After her tears ran dry, she knelt and clasped her hands together.
“God, please spare Parthenope’s life and forgive my selfish ways.”
Perla despaired; the day had been a complete failure. She hung her head as the late-afternoon ferry pulled into Marina Piccola. Parthenope wasn’t dead—she simply couldn’t be dead. I’ll search again in the morning, Perla vowed, despite the hopelessness in her heart.
The elevator connecting the harbor to the town of Sorrento stood a short distance from the ferry terminal. Perla gladly paid the one-euro fare to avoid hiking up the steep switchback path. The scent of pizza wafting through the air greeted her at street level and reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Her nose led her to a tiny restaurant that sold pizza by the slice, and she took her place at the end of the long line of young people waiting to order.
The plastic tables and chairs set up outside overflowed with college-age kids from the hostel down the street, and judging by the din of conversation and rowdy behavior, many of them were American. The sensation of being watched tickled the back of her neck like a feather.
A group of kids at a nearby table sat looking at their phones. One of them pointed at Perla, and the others giggled. After such a lousy day, she was in no mood for idiocy.
“What’s so funny?” Perla said, hands on her hips. She stepped over to the table and confronted the boy who had pointed at her, the apparent leader of the pack.
“You are,” he said, seemingly unable to back down in front of his friends.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re the crazy naked lady from Saturnia!”
“What the hell?”
He held up his phone to show her a YouTube video. A hot, tingling sensation spread over her face and neck. She didn’t need her reading glasses to recognize her form hopping from pool to pool like a manic monkey. No doubt about it, that was her windmilling her arms, pushing and pulling people, screaming at them to get out of the water. The video ended with her crouching like a gargoyle in a three-point stance on the rim of a pool. When it began to zoom in on her face, she turned away.
“Oh shit!” she exclaimed. By then everyone in the restaurant was staring at her.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh!” The loathsome punk scratched his sides, pantomiming a monkey.
Perla backed away from the table. “Do you know what happened afterward? What the video doesn’t show?” she shouted at him.
“You threw bananas at the crowd?”
Peals of laughter filled the air. Perla dashed away from the pizzeria with her hands over her ears. She’d been pilloried by social media.
Perla ran far away from the restaurant before stopping to catch her breath. This was the worst day of her life in a string of worst days, and karma was just warming up. She had narrowly escaped being boiled alive and crushed to death, her lover had deserted her, she had probably killed her best friend, and she’d flushed six weeks of writing down the toilet—but all that wasn’t enough without a big scoop of global humiliation on top. She crossed the street, put her hands on the railing, and squinted into the gorge that sliced through the middle of town. She’d heard it called the Valley of the Mills and understood why Sorrento, under constant threat of marauding Saracen slavers, had been built on the edge of this abyss. It was hundreds of feet straight down.
Swan dive over the edge and end your miserable life right now, a voice whispered. Perla studied the crumbling, vine-covered building far below, and it studied her. The black-eyed windows of the abandoned mill implored her: Do it. You have nothing to live for except loneliness and destitution. Join me in obsolescence, death, and decay. If Lucifer owned a vacation home in Sorrento, this would be the place.
Something soft rubbed against Perla’s leg. An orange tabby cat purred loudly, and she reached down to pet it. There was no escaping Sorrento’s feline minions. The cat ran a few steps ahead of her on the sidewalk, then stopped and waited for her. Intrigued, she pulled back from the railing and followed it into a nearby alley. A trash bag had tipped over, spilling its contents. The cat sniffed a broken Bakelite hand mirror on the ground and sat next to it.
“A mirror. So what?”
The cat focused its button eyes on her.
“What are you telling me, little kitty?”
The cat stared a while longer and then presented its backside, flicked nonexistent dirt in her direction as if she were a turd, and left. I am a turd, Perla thought. Her head hurt, her heart ached, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
Back in her hotel room, Perla took two pain pills, got into bed, and pulled the sheet over her head.
Sleep came fitfully and she dreamed of mirrors. Jackie O and Circe stood back-to-back on a beach, holding up handheld mirrors and talking to each other. Teddy and Maria did the same, as if they were stuck together with Velcro. A giant dolphin jumped out of the water with the animated skeleton of Parthenope riding on its back. It waved at Perla and cackled. The dolphin chirped. Perla woke with a jerk at four a.m., knowing what she had to do. It terrified her.
Perla did not rent a kayak in Marina Grande the following morning. Instead, she took a taxi to Da Luigi ai Faraglioni beach club, adjacent to the Faraglioni sea stacks. She stood at the club entrance, admiring its location, one of the most stunning natural settings in Capri. If she was a tourist, she’d love nothing more than to spend the day there lounging on a rented sun bed and swimming in the crystalline blue water. But she was merely passing through, on a mission to save Parthenope. Perla paid the club’s entrance fee, followed the path below the restaurant, crossed the patio, and descended the steps to the swimming platform. She tightened the drawstring on her daypack and dove off the edge in her clothes.
Several swimmers watched as she swam along the left side of the cove, past the designated swim area marked by ropes and buoys. Once out of sight, she dove underwater and swam to the center sea stack. She resurfaced under the arch of the massive monolith and checked her bearings. Was this the spot where the dolphins had towed them? She dove deep. Her search for Janus’s staircase had begun.
The memory of her meeting with Janus was sketchy. How much was drug-induced hallucination and how much was real still baffled her. Part of her wished it hadn’t actually happened in spite of the fact that she desperately needed Janus’s help. The stairs had to be close by—where the heck were they? She dove deeper and crisscrossed up the rock face, searching for the entrance but without success. She breached the surface and broke down into bitter tears. Janus had been her last hope.
Something poked Perla in the thigh. Startled, she pulled her hands away from her face. A dolphin, smiling its creepy smile, came to her side. Hope flickered—her ride had arrived! Perla held on to the dolphin’s fin, and it pulled her away from the area she’d been searching. Deeper and deeper they dove until, at last, the grand staircase materialized in front of her. She let go and kissed the dolphin’s bulbous forehead in thanks, as she’d seen Parthenope do. It kicked its tail and sped away.
Perla hesitated in front of the columns at the base of the stairs, mustering her courage. Would Janus kill her on the spot for her audacity? Just do it, she told herself. Swim through the tunnel and beg an audience. A mysterious light surrounded Perla as soon as she entered the darkness. This was new. The stairs beneath her were hewn of rock crystal and glowed pale pink. They led the way to Janus’s chamber like floor lights in an airplane. Was he expecting her? She climbed out of the water onto the circular mosaic flo
or she remembered from her first visit. Sunlight streamed down from the oculus in the ceiling like a spotlight on a stage. Showtime.
The statues around the perimeter turned and stared at her. So, she hadn’t dreamed that after all. She sat down on the top step, took off her daypack, and emptied its contents onto the floor. The statue of Apollo leaned toward Aphrodite and whispered something into her white marble ear with his white marble lips. A clicking of canes echoed behind the beam of sunlight. As the hunched figure of Janus emerged from the shadows, Perla dropped to her knees and genuflected as she’d seen Parthenope do.
Damn it and hallelujah! Janus was real. Perla turned her head and opened one eye. He hobbled forward on deformed feet, leaning heavily on his sticks. His lack of knees gave him a swiveling gait, like a reanimated mummy or someone walking in double leg casts. Perla trembled as her courage faltered.
“Perla, we’ve been expecting you. Rise and make your supplication.”
Perla stood and squinted to obscure the finer details of Janus’s hideous visage, which proved futile. The sunlight magnified his knobby warts and enhanced his beady eyes. Her muscles tensed.
“What gifts do you surrender?” he asked, pushing back his dreadlocks. He dropped his canes, stood up straighter, and cracked his arthritic knuckles.
“Mirrors, Pater.”
Janus’s head pivoted. “For what purpose are these mirrors?” the face in back said.
Perla recoiled. It was identically abominable, worse than she’d remembered.
“To see yourself, or should I say, yourselves… I’m not sure whether to address you in the singular or plural. May I ask whether you are one brain with two faces or two brains with two faces?”
“Yourselves is correct. We share thoughts but also have some of our own.” Janus untwisted his neck. “Acquit me of my curiosity—why would we want to see ourselves?” the front face queried.
“Do you ever talk to each other? Verbally?” Perla asked.
“Yes, all the time,” Janus replied.
The statues murmured in agreement.
“Wouldn’t you like to look at each other when you talk?”
“I suppose…”
“Let me show you how,” Perla said. She inched closer to Janus and cautiously placed a handheld mirror into each of his two clawlike paws. She gently lifted and positioned Janus’s arms like he was taking two selfies and adjusted the angle of the mirrors so that each face saw the other’s reflection.
Janus laughed through both mouths. “You’re ugly,” said the front face to the back face.
“So are you,” the back face replied, a huge smile parting his carp-like lips.
“But we don’t care, do we?”
“I don’t, do you?”
“No, but Perla’s concern for her appearance subverts her judgment. It’s why she’s here. Am I correct, Perla?” Janus lowered the mirrors. The front face stopped smiling.
“Yes, it is, Pater. I’ve made terrible mistakes and came to beg your help. I might have killed Parthenope, my best friend. I waited too long to return this cameo.” Perla touched the cameo around her neck. “It sustains her life and makes me appear younger. Now I can’t find her. Is it too late?”
“And why did you wait?” The back face spun around, eyes narrowed.
“You kn-know…”
“Confess it.” Janus unwound his neck.
“Because without the cameo, I am old and ugly.” Perla hung her head.
“What’s wrong with old and ugly?” Janus squeezed his matted eyebrows together.
Perla instinctively stepped back. The statues tittered.
“No, you misunderstand. I only wanted one more weekend with the man I love, in my younger form, before I left him forever and returned the cameo.” Perla’s thoughts percolated with all the horrible things gods did to mortals who displeased them.
“By your proclamation, age and unsightliness makes one unworthy of love?” Janus feigned contemplation for a beat.
Perla swayed on her feet.
A squirmy moment later he raised both mirrors, and the faces peered at each other. “I love you. Do you love me?”
“I adore you. Do you love me?” the back face replied.
Giggling came from the perimeter.
“See? We love ourselves. Why don’t you love yourself?” both mouths asked in stereo.
Perla hesitated before answering. “Because nobody else does.”
“Think again. Mine eyes have seen Italy bestow nothing but love on you since you arrived.”
Janus’s rebuke stung. Perla dropped to her knees and cried, “I know… I’m shallow… and weak… and I failed the two people who care about me the most… But please, you’re the god of the future and the past… of beginnings and endings… Please give me a chance to begin again, to make it right.”
Janus stood silent and still, as if his two minds were having a heated discussion inside their head. Finally he said, “The mirrors please us, so we’ll help… a little.”
His eyes widened, and light flickered behind his pupils like a movie projector starting up. “I see Parthenope on the verge of death and you on the precipice of personal ruin. You wander in pathless wilderness; a wilderness of the soul. It’s not too late though. An opportunity comes for you to redeem yourself. Your contrition will be tested and your actions, not mine, can affect Parthenope’s rebirth as well as your transition into a person who is honest and honorable, self-accepting and uncritical of others.”
The projector snapped off.
“Parthenope is still alive? Where can I find her? How much time…?”
“You will find her in residence tomorrow. Go now.” Janus cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Through the doorway over there.” Janus pointed to an opening in the wall she hadn’t seen earlier. “Demonstrate strength and prudence and all will be well.” He stooped to pick up his canes and shuffled back into the shadows.
Perla stepped through the doorway into total darkness. She trailed her right hand along the tunnel wall and extended her left hand in front of her, fearing Minotaur, cyclopes, and whatever else haunted Amalfi Coast caves. A dot of light appeared in the distance. She broke into a run and the dot grew brighter—sunlight! Perla skidded to a stop at the mouth of the cavern. Marina Piccola spread out below her. She was standing in one of the ancient tunnels carved into the cliffside surrounding the harbor. How had she gotten here so fast? She climbed down the rocks to the water’s edge and looked up. The golden walls of Sorrento hovered high above.
Redemption
Perla stepped out of the shower, twisted a towel around her head in a turban, and wrapped another around her chest. She’d scoured her skin pink but still didn’t feel clean. Janus’s putrid breath stuck to her like sin. She brushed her teeth, dried her hair, and reluctantly put her damp shirt and jeans back on. Shopping for a change of clothes would have to wait until after dinner—she was famished.
A whiff of seaweed followed her out the door and down the stairs.
Jacopo held the front desk phone toward Perla as she passed through the lobby. “It’s for you. He’s called every day. Sorry I forgot to tell you.” He shrugged guiltily.
Perla reached for the phone with a shaky hand. Could it be…?
“Perla, I’ve found you at last! Are you all right, sweetheart? I’ve been worried sick.” It was Vito.
“Yes…,” she said hesitantly. Why did he sound so normal? It was impossible to unsee what he’d seen. “I don’t blame you for leaving. I can explain…”
“What are you talking about? I had a heart attack.”
“You did?” she said, stunned. It was not what she had expected to hear. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“I’m magnifico. Several things happened actually. What do you remember last?”
“You scolding me about the dog, me leaning against a wall, you fussing over the cuts on the back of my neck, and then…” She wanted him to say it first.
“I was mad at you for taking such a d
umb risk and hurting yourself,” he said. “I was about to stanch the blood with a tissue when an elephant sat on my chest. The pain was like my first heart attack, only worse. I couldn’t say anything. I was sure I was dying. At the same instant, a huge aftershock knocked me to the ground. It also dropped a roof tile on your head.”
“So that’s what it was.” Perla touched her scalp. “You weren’t there when I woke up. I thought my face scared you away for good,” she said, touching the edge of truth. Did the cameo’s magic force field extend several inches from her skin, or had the layer of dust on her face hidden her transformation?
“Very funny. Even when you’re bloody and covered with dirt, you’re as beautiful as ever.” His voice dripped with love.
It was the dust then. “I’m glad you… uh… didn’t die,” Perla said lamely, her mind spinning.
“I came close. The paramedics had finally arrived in Saturnia, which was the reason I went searching for you. I found my voice and yelled for help. By luck, someone heard me and brought them over. The paramedics were more concerned about my heart attack than your concussion and immediately sent me away in an ambulance. I was transported to Rome for bypass surgery—a long story, which I’ll save for later.”
Vito’s voice cracked. “I called you after my operation, but my medication made me forget your phone was still in my car. As soon as I remembered, I called you here but they said you hadn’t returned. I was terrified and contacted the hospitals and clinics near Saturnia, asking about you. The hospital in Pitigliano confirmed you’d been a patient there but had already checked out. Sweetheart, are you okay? Why were you there five days?”
“Another long story… I’m fine, just a little battered,” Perla said, befuddled. He doesn’t know after all? Vito had been gone forever, and now their relationship was just as before?
“Where are you now?” Perla asked.