by A. Constanza
Salem started to frantically hit my hand under the counter. It was clear she was sending me a signal, but I couldn’t decipher it, so I slapped her hand away.
“Anyway, I’m getting married next month, and Nonna will only come if you go,” she informed, retrieving an invitation from her Hermes bag and tossing it onto the counter. “You know, she’s afraid of planes and all. She needs a companion, and I’ll be too busy to tend to her ridiculous fears. Estella, you’re more than welcome to join, as well.”
“Thank you for your kind invitation,” I said, trying my best to sound grateful. The longer she stayed, the more irritating she became, and as much as we wanted to push her out the door, we couldn’t. Camilla had the power to shut down the café and any of Salem’s future franchises if we so dared to look at her the wrong way.
“Alright, dolls, I must go plan a wedding.” She laughed as she promenaded out of the café.
“Have I ever told you I loathe her?” Salem grunted.
“Many times.” I sighed.
Salem tossed the invitation into a nearby trashcan without opening it.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because we’ve already been invited to the wedding. That 15K cake we are making was requested by Marcelo Moretti, her fiancé. And Michelin-star chef, if I may add!”
“What? That’s incredible, but do you think she knows?”
“Oh, no way. If she did, we would be out the door. We can’t let her find out for another month.” Salem placed her head onto my shoulder. “She literally raised my blood pressure. Thank God you’re here.”
It wasn’t the best time for me to run for the hills, but I had to inform Salem about my conundrum.
We worked until closing time—6 p.m.—the time most cafés closed in Vecchio—and made our way back to our little home. As soon as we jumped off our scooters, right then and there, I told Salem everything—from the moment I walked into the jazz club with the girls from my study-abroad group, to the morning that I woke up alone in a studio, to the moment that I turned around from playing the piano and saw Ignacio. We sat at the edge of the lake, skipping rocks to ease the situation.
Thinking about it all, having to actually vocalize all the emotions I felt as a teenager, had me on the verge of tears. I had never told anyone the complete truth about that night because it was embarrassing and traumatic, to say the least. The game between men and women, prey and predator, seemed all too real, and it prevented me from being able to have a successful relationship. I couldn’t stop seeing myself as a game to a man. All the hurt that had been done to me wasn’t healed, but I went on and bled, little by little, tainting every possible relationship I had as they tainted me.
“Jesus, Estella.” Salem sighed, placing her hand over mine. “What do you want to do?”
“All I know is that I don’t want to see him again.”
“Well, I’d love to see him because I would tell him off.”
I choked on the bubble of laughter, and it caused all the accumulated mucus to unleash. “Sorry,” I said, laughing and crying at the same time as I reached for a tissue that I had in my bag.
“Don’t apologize,” Salem said. “Just let it out. You’re constantly holding your head up high, working, studying, hiding in the shadows when, in reality, you’re suffering. Stop drowning yourself in tasks to prevent yourself from feeling. Keep crying,” she said, patting my back.
“What am I really supposed to do?” I asked, cleaning my nose.
I knew nothing about Ignacio and his intentions with me now that we had collided. It seemed like he had a lot more to say to me, and I wasn’t going to allow him to deceive me again. How would I be able to decipher a truth from a lie?
“I’d say, continue to live your life, and if you ever meet again, tell him you have no intentions of interacting with him. If he’s at the café, I’ll do my best to ignore him. I will help you through this, but Estella, you can’t run away from this—your problems. You ran away from Brooklyn because of Cesar, and I won’t let you run away from Castel Vecchio because of Mr. Pianist. You need to defend yourself from these kinds of men.”
“I know.” I sighed.
We continued to sit out on the edge of the water until we could only see the whites of our eyes. The night consisted of a bright, full moon, large boats sailing across the water, and two friends who had each other’s back. It might’ve been a crap beginning of the day, but it ended on a better note.
And for once, I wasn’t suffering in silence.
EIGHT
Ignacio
One week.
It had been one week since my last encounter with Estella. Castel Vecchio wasn’t that populated, but it was an earthy slab of land. There were parts of the city that had the majority of the residents and other parts higher up, such as in the mountains, that had one cottage with acres of land surrounding it. There was no sure way to find her except by visiting the small college during the times she was expected to take her piano lessons.
Even then, I couldn’t accomplish that successfully because Nonno would know that Estella had lied to him. She had told him that the session went decently but preferred his teaching style. If I visited them after their lesson, Nonno would be able to sense the tension, and then we would be questioned. She lied for a reason, and I wanted to respect that despite my need to just come clean to Nonno.
I only had one more week until I had to return to work at Amatore Industries in Lombardy. It was the Silicon Valley of Italy, and unfortunately, the root of all my unhappiness. There hadn’t been a day this week where my father hadn’t called to request my return. He didn’t understand that people could get burned out because all he wanted to do was work. Work is what made him lose his wife and son, but as long as he had money, nothing else mattered to him.
Thinking about my father’s company and not being able to talk to Estella had drained me. I found myself hopping around different shops and restaurants in hopes of stumbling into her. I came across Salem’s café once again and found myself being drawn to the figurines that were on display. The fox-and-piano figurine that I had previously purchased rested on top of my Fazioli. To my surprise, I found another fox-and-piano figurine. In this one, there was a dying peony next to the seated fox.
I watched the figurine and tried to decipher the message that the sculptor had tried to convey, but nothing formed. Was this before or after the fox and woman on the piano? Why wasn’t the fox wearing the top hat? I was putting too much thought into an object that may have not had a meaning.
“Will you be buying this, as well?” Salem, the owner, appeared beside me, looking at the figurine.
“I believe I am,” I said, giving it another glance.
“I’ll wrap that up for you,” she said, gingerly reaching for it.
“Thank you, and one caffè stretto, please.”
Why did I keep paying for a drink that I didn’t like?
“Coming up,” she said, handing me a gift bag. “That’ll be another hundred euros.”
I handed her the bills that were in my wallet. “Please, keep the tip.”
“That means a lot,” she said before disappearing into the back.
She returned shortly with my drink and a takeout bag with cannoli inside. “A thank you for supporting the café and my friend’s art.”
“Well, we artists have to support each other,” I said, swallowing my drink in one go and retreating to my car.
Every fiber in my body told me to stay in the area. I should either stay in the café or visit the college, but with all my might, I decided to let Estella go for today and drive across the bridge. Back to my mansion of loneliness.
NINE
Estella
On Sundays, the majority of all the businesses in Vecchio were closed. It was the official day off for all the residents. Typically, Salem and I would spend the day resting in the cottage, catching up on shows, talking to our parents from back home, or hanging out with N
onna Norah.
On this specific Sunday, we were getting ready for church. Growing up, our parents considered themselves Catholic but never attended church, not even for the holidays. Nonna Norah wanted us to attend service on this specific day because she was going to sing. Emile was going to accompany her, as well, and everyone believed that this was their way of making their relationship public.
Everyone arrived at church in modest attire; Salem and I were the odd ones out. We weren’t prepared for the judgmental stares. Taking a deep breath, I straightened out my white wrap dress that was a couple inches above my knees. It was the best I could do with the short notice and utilizing what I had in my closet. It beat Salem who wore a black shirt, black booty shorts, and Doc Martens.
We decided to sit in the middle of the church; it was the perfect way to say that ‘we are here’ but ‘don’t want to be in sight of the preacher.’ Nonna Norah was on stage, wearing a light blue, suit dress, and mid-heel, black pumps, speaking to Emile who had been seated on the piano looking pretty dashing himself. They gave each other reassuring smiles as everyone began to settle down in their seats.
I had been skimming through the Bible when I heard Salem do her sexy whistle. I peered up to find a tall, lean male figure walking down the aisle to the second row. All I could see was his behind, but even that was enough to know that he was attractive. He wore navy blue suit pants, that perfectly emphasized his behind, and a lighter-shade-of-blue blazer.
I wasn’t sure what was appropriate behavior at church, but visually undressing a man in church had to be a sin. I diverted my attention away from the fine specimen and looked around the church, taking in the beauty of the stained-glass windows that displayed Mary and Jesus. My gaze wavered around to find Leonardo, my Italian tutor, looking in my direction. He lifted his hand, giving me a simple wave, and I returned the greeting by smiling at him.
“Damn, that’s Leonardo?” Salem whispered. “Is he single?”
“I don’t know.” I chuckled.
“You should try to find out.”
Leonardo definitely caught the eyes of other young ladies at the church. He wore a white, polo shirt that put his biceps on display, and his boyish smile had the ability to make you feel something. He was a good friend of mine, and I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t attracted to him. Though, I realized that in this year-long journey of self-discovery, it would be best to learn about myself without being in a relationship.
The preacher took his place on the podium and watched his audience. The second he spoke, I realized that I would be confused for the duration of the service. My lessons with Leonardo were going well, but surely, I wouldn’t be able to translate a sermon.
“Nonna is going to sing now,” Salem informed.
Emile played the first few notes, and I instantly knew that Nonna Norah was going to sing Ave Maria. A string of emotions escaped her as she started to sing to the church. I’ve heard Nonna Norah quietly sing while cooking or humming as she did chores, but I never knew that she had the voice of an angel. She was keeping her special talent secret, and honestly, it was the best way to reveal her relationship with Emile.
I had been completely captivated by Nonna’s singing that the sudden crash of piano keys snapped me out of the heaven that I was experiencing. There were whispers in the church, everyone unsure of what was happening. Nonna Norah and Emile exchanged worried glances as Emile started to rub his right wrist.
“Oh no, it’s his carpal tunnel,” I told Salem.
Even the preacher didn’t know how to react; he kept hovering over the chair as if Emile would bounce back, but he didn’t. A male figure emerged from the crowd and walked up the stage to briefly speak to Emile and Nonna. They both looked relieved; and with one pat on the back, Emile left the bench and the male with the impeccable outfit had taken his place.
The man shimmied off his blazer and handed it to Emile, allowing the crowd to get a glimpse of his profile. The whispers behind us grew louder and had giggles added to the mix. The side of the face was all I needed to know that the one who replaced Emile was Ignacio.
Ignacio picked up a little before where Emile had stopped, and Nonna knew exactly where to continue her singing. My chest felt tight with anger and sadness, but I knew he was doing nothing harmful at the moment. If anything, he saved Emile and Norah’s performance—the event that made their relationship public.
Nonna Norah finished the song, and then everyone erupted in adulation. Ignacio took advantage of the distraction to jog down the stairs nearing the walls of the church to leave. I turned back to continue watching him leave, along with a couple of curious churchgoers, such as Salem, and he gave the church one last glance before exiting.
“Oh my God, he’s the guy that bought both of your fox-and-piano figurines.”
I nearly choked on that revelation.
It was the perfect opportunity to tell Salem that he was the man that shattered my heart, but instead, I remained utterly silent. The man behind the figurines had been the man who was buying the figurines. My head filled with tension just with the thought. The irony of it made the situation almost laughable, but I wasn’t laughing.
If anything, I was pissed.
TEN
Ignacio
All I wanted to do was return to my villa after that church performance, but I promised Nonno that I would attend the intimate lunch gathering after church. He wanted to formally introduce me to the new woman in his life. I was happy for him—proud even—because he decided to give love another chance regardless of the results from his last relationship.
I stood in front of the cottage and envisioned myself playing soccer with a then black-haired Nonno and a very lively Nonna. It was where I would live for most of my summer breaks when my father decided to take his heaviest load of work. He wouldn’t even step foot out of the car to help with my luggage or to hug me goodbye. He was excitedly waiting for me to not be his responsibility and focus on what he actually loved most: work.
And the worst part? I was happy when he left. What kind of child feels relief from seeing their parent leave? A child that never felt loved in the first place. Mom was constantly traveling to play her parts as an actress, Dad breathed work, and I just wanted someone to look at me as if I mattered to them.
The cottage didn’t seem that bent out of shape. When Nonna died, it was just four slabs of discolored brick walls. All the vines in front of the house had died, the plants in the front were wilted, and those who lived inside it didn’t have much will to live.
A single tear escaped my eye, and I was quick to wipe it away. I didn’t let anyone see me cry. I knew that I was most likely alone, but I couldn’t let my guard down. The old folks of Castel Vecchio looked sweet, but most were vultures. They wanted the latest news on whomever.
Nonna would have slapped me across the head for bad-mouthing or even assuming other people’s intentions. She had no problem putting me in my place considering she constantly had to do it; she was more of a real mother than my own. Norah had the same fiery energy as Nonna; I could see her trying to set me straight.
Spotting Nonno’s olive-green Fiat had snapped me out of all the reminiscing and ranting. I noticed one red and one aqua-colored Vespa trailing behind his car. I couldn’t identify their faces from where I was standing.
Nonno stepped out of the car and happily waved at me as he headed toward the entrance of his cottage. I was still too far from his guests, standing under one of the great trees that my nonna used to host picnics. As I strode toward them, one of them huddled in front of Emile and entered the house.
I reached the cottage and Emile and Norah were lingering by the front door.
Emile shot me a nervous smile. “Ignacio, I didn’t expect you to meet Norah the way you did, but here’s to a second chance.”
I extended my hand out to shake Norah’s hand, and she grabbed it, only to pull me into a tight hug. Emile couldn’t contain his laugh, I could only imagine
the awkward face I made that caused him to bellow out like a child. I missed hearing him laugh.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Ignacio. Your nonno told me so much about you.” She had her hand on my shoulder.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing,” I joked.
Norah laughed and patted my arm. “All good things, mostly.”
Emile smiled and clasped his hands together. “Well, should we put the lasagna in the oven?”
“Yes, of course. I told Estella and Salem to preheat the oven,” she said and walked through the doorway.
Hearing Estella’s name caught me off guard, causing my whole body to stiffen. A million questions raced through my head and down to my mouth. I wanted to ask Nonno but didn’t know where to begin.
“Are you okay there, boy?” Nonno asked, slapping my arm, jolting me back to reality.
“Yes,” I lied. There was a whirlwind in my head. I wasn’t okay knowing that Estella and I would be under the same roof. She hated me and appeared to be Norah’s granddaughter. I didn’t expect family drama so soon.
“Let’s go introduce you to the girls,” Nonno said, guiding me into the cottage.
I hadn’t stepped foot in the cottage for almost six years. Around that time, I had stopped attempting to make music my career and dealt in the world of business with my father. Life had been more than complicated since then.
Everything remained the same: the gaudy furniture that Nonna adored; the countryside paintings hung unevenly on the walls; the bouquet of smells—old wood, Italian food, powder, and wildflowers, and dust. It was unpleasant, to say the least, but the memories were so far from that.
There was chitchat coming from the kitchen, and I wondered if Estella was warning them about me. I peeked into the kitchen, watching Estella combine ingredients into a salad bowl. She had matured into a beautiful woman, and I honestly couldn’t stop absorbing the sight of her.