Stella Mia

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  “Trust me, Sarina. He is not wasting his time worrying about me. I’m sure he’s figured out that I’ve run away with you.”

  “Still. I would feel better if you would at least let him know you’re fine. You don’t have to tell him you’re here or of your decision to stop working for his hotel.”

  “That would make me a complete coward.” Carlo runs his hand through his hair and turns away from me. When he turns back around, he nods his head. “You’re right. I haven’t been acting like a man. I’m sure my grandmother must be worried, too. Then again, he’s probably lied and told Nonna Lucia I’m in Enna, taking care of business there. I will tell him the truth—even where we are. Let him try to make me return. I’m sure I’ll get a response to my letter, informing me that he’s disinherited me.”

  “You’re going to write instead of call him?”

  “Why not? If I call, we’ll just get into an argument, and I’m through with that. He doesn’t deserve more from me. He’s lucky I’m even letting him know I’m still alive. I know the day will come when I’ll have to confront him face-to-face, especially since I plan on visiting my grandmother once we’re more settled here. But for now, it’s best that we don’t see each other. Who knows? Maybe the distance will somehow get him to see reason, but I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Well, I am glad you are going to let him know you’re okay.”

  “You’re so kind. After my father did nothing to prevent your father from taking you back home and after I told you that he didn’t approve of our seeing each other, you can still find it in your heart to feel compassion for him.” Carlo walks over and hugs me. “Now, don’t keep me in suspense any longer. Who did you run into?”

  “Maria!”

  “The gypsies came to Lipari?”

  I fill Carlo in on what Maria told me and let him know she invited us to see them tonight.

  “I should warn them,” Carlo says when I’m done.

  “Warn them of what?”

  “I’ve heard that the police want to crack down on any vagrants, including gypsies. They’re even saying they’re going to try and rid the island of the beggars who are seen by Marina Lunga. Apparently, many of the business owners have been complaining that they are losing customers, especially the wealthier tourists, to the other islands that are more ‘cleaned up’ as they put it. They feel that the homeless, gypsies, and beggars detract from Lipari.”

  “She already knows about the police crackdown. That’s why she’s selling souvenirs. They hope in time they can do private readings, but how many could they possibly get since they have to do it secretively? It’s ridiculous that the police think the gypsies are detracting from Lipari and turning off visitors. I see plenty of tourists who disembark from the ferries at Marina Lunga make their way over to the hotels. And as you mentioned, the Villa Athena is fully booked, as are a few of the other hotels.”

  “Well, the police are worried about the tourists cutting their stays short once they see the gypsies and the beggars, and they’re afraid Lipari will get a reputation as being an island for vagrants. I do think they’re acting paranoid. Wherever you go in Italy, there are homeless people and beggars as well as gypsies. I’m sure it must also be because of the business owners and their discomfort when they see the vagrants. They must’ve put pressure on the police to do something about them. I hate to say this, but the best thing for Maria and her family to do is leave Lipari. They will only run into more trouble and risk getting arrested.”

  “But they haven’t been reading tarot in public anymore.”

  “What if one of the people they approach about private readings rats them out? Also, they’re still camped out on the beach. Remember, it’s all vagrants the police are targeting, not just fortune-tellers. I don’t know how much longer they can continue living there before the police force them to leave.”

  “Maria will be heartbroken. She already looked sad when she told me of their recent misfortune.”

  A few hours later, Carlo and I are riding the scooter he purchased to make getting around Lipari easier. We’re on our way to the Spiaggia Bianca where the gypsies are camping. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what will become of Maria and her family since Carlo told me about the police forcing all vagrants from Lipari.

  For the remainder of our ride, I try to focus on the beautiful colors of orange, purple, and pink that streak across the sky as the sun sinks deeper beyond the horizon and twilight begins to take over. I close my eyes, letting the soft breeze coming from the sea soothe my spirits. I wish there was a way I could help Maria and her family after all they’ve done for me.

  Music reaches my ears as we arrive at the Spiaggia Bianca. We make our way over to the large band of gypsies who are dancing the tarantella.

  “Come on! Let’s join in!” Carlo grabs me by the hand and runs over to the gypsies. We quickly jump into line and begin hopping to the rhythms of the tarantella.

  “Sarina! Catch!”

  Gianni throws his tambourine to me. I catch it in the nick of time. Several gypsies have tambourines, holding them high up in the air as they shake them in a wild, frenzied motion while they dance. A few of the men are standing in the background, playing the friscaletto, or flute, and mandolin. One man is even blowing on a ciaramedda, a popular Sicilian instrument.

  We continue dancing, switching partners as we link our arms together and break away every few seconds to tap our feet as we hop from one foot to the other. Seeing the gypsies like this, one would think they do not have a care in the world. Again, their love of life always comes through, even when they are facing difficult times as they are now.

  I glance at Maria and tiny Isabella. Their faces glow in the light of the bonfire that has been built by their tent. I look at all of the gypsies and try to freeze this image in my mind. For I know that soon they will be forced to move on once more. And this time, I doubt I will be lucky enough to cross paths with them again.

  17

  Panarea and Filicudi

  September 13, 1969

  Carlo has not had a day off from work since we arrived in Lipari, so his boss has let him take this weekend off to recuperate. We’re taking a day trip to Panarea, the smallest of the Aeolian Islands. Later this afternoon, we will set off for the island of Filicudi, where we will spend the night and all of the day tomorrow.

  Panarea, like Taormina, is popular with the rich. But for some reason, the wealth seems even more ostentatious here. Though I saw plenty of wealthy people in Taormina, it was still hard for me to get accustomed to seeing how they were able to splurge with their money, when in my family every lira spent was carefully weighed before the purchase was made. Luxuries like eating at fine restaurants and having our hair done at a salon were not realities for us. While I have grown a bit more accustomed to Carlo’s beautiful gifts and his treating me to nice restaurants and taking me to other wonderful places, once again I cannot rid myself of the guilt, especially when I think of my family’s struggles. All I can pray for is that someday I can share with them a bit of the lifestyle Carlo has introduced me to.

  “Dove sei?” Carlo intrudes on my thoughts, looking at me with worry etched in his face as he picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.

  “Nowhere. You should be used to my drifting off all the time.” I offer a small smile, knowing Carlo sees through my feeble excuse.

  “Si. I am used to your daydreaming a lot. You look so sad when I catch you. Are you happy with me, Sarina?”

  “Of course I am, Carlo. I’ve never been this happy. You know where my thoughts often are.” I purse my lips tightly and avert my gaze as I feel tears threatening to spill.

  “Your family. I know. They are always with you. I promise they will be a part of your life again someday. But for now, please try not to feel bad that you aren’t with them. We’ve discussed this before. There’s no way you can return. Your father cannot be trusted.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cast a cloud on our weekend together
. I promise no more daydreaming or sadness. Let’s have a good time.”

  Carlo pulls me to him and hugs me tightly. I return his embrace.

  “I love you so much, Sarina.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Our ferry has left us off at the pier in San Pietro, the largest of the three hamlets on the east coast of the island. Sky-blue waters with gleaming white yachts and sailboats, both at dock and at sea, adorn the landscape. The image before me looks too perfect and surreal. I feel like I am seeing it in a dream or in a book. So far, of the three Aeolian Islands I’ve been to, Panarea is the most beautiful and reminiscent of paradise. Cars are not allowed on Panarea, and the best way to explore the island is by gozzo, a small wooden motorboat with a sun shade. We head over to rent one.

  “I’ll let you navigate the boat.”

  I look at Carlo horrified. “Me? I have no idea what to do!”

  “Gozzi are easy to navigate. Even someone with no experience manning a boat can easily steer one. Trust me, many of the tourists here have no experience navigating, and that doesn’t stop them from renting a gozzo. It’ll be fun, and I’ll be by your side.” Carlo places his arm around my shoulders and gives me a reassuring hug.

  “The line to rent is quite long.”

  “Yes, unfortunately, there’s no avoiding that. Gozzos are the best way to explore a few of the inlets that are along the coastline and inaccessible by land. Also, we’ll be able to stop at any one of the numerous coves we come across and take a swim. Best part of all is that we’ll be alone, away from all these tourists.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “And romantic,” Carlo adds, giving me a lazy smile.

  After waiting in line for twenty minutes to rent our gozzo, we’re finally out on the water. Once we’re farther away from the other gozzi, Carlo lets me navigate. He’s right. It’s quite easy, and I’m actually enjoying it.

  We pull into a cove and drop anchor.

  “Ready?” Carlo asks me as he pulls off his shirt and shorts to reveal his swimming trunks, and then dives into the water.

  I take off my sundress and follow him. Once I reach the surface, I tread the water, enjoying the sun’s rays on my face. Carlo treads alongside me.

  “It’s so beautiful here.”

  “Not as beautiful as you, stella mia.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “Stella mia. You are my star.”

  Though I promised Carlo there would be no more sadness today, I cannot help my expression.

  “Sarina, what is it?” Carlo treads closer to me.

  “I just can’t believe you called me that. I made up a song called ‘Stella Mia’ that I used to sing to my little sister Carlotta as we looked up at the stars. I miss her so much. I didn’t even get to talk to her when my father brought me back home.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarina.”

  “No, don’t be. You had no idea, and I’m moved that you think I am your star.” I touch Carlo’s cheek. He takes my hand and brings it to his lips.

  “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you, Sarina. Don’t ever forget that.”

  We swim around the cove for another half hour before heading back to the gozzo. Carlo takes over the steering so that I can relax and enjoy the panorama.

  “Where to now, captain?”

  “I thought we’d go over to two isolotti—Lisca Bianca and Basiluzzo.”

  “I overheard tourists in Taormina talking about these isolotti. They were quite taken with them.”

  “It’s hard not to become enchanted. If I were a millionaire, I would live here in Panarea, although I don’t know if I could tolerate the snootier rich people.” Carlo laughs. “Anyway, there will most likely be hordes of tourists at Lisca Bianca. Let’s go first to Basiluzzo, and on the way back, we’ll stop at Lisca Bianca. There’s a special place I want to take you to.”

  As we approach the isolotto of Basiluzzo, a wall of rock greets us.

  Carlo drops anchor near a limestone wall.

  “The color of the water!” I exclaim upon seeing the emerald green waters.

  “I know. It’s amazing, isn’t it? There are even a few Roman ruins here in Basiluzzo. I have a friend who scuba dives, and he told me there are also Roman artifacts on the seafloor.”

  Wasting no time waiting to enjoy the crystalline waters, we jump in. I follow Carlo’s lead as he swims closer to the limestone wall.

  “Let’s just float here and rest a bit from swimming.”

  Carlo leans back and lets his body float along the surface of the water. I wait a few minutes before floating alongside him, not wanting to take my eyes off the scenery.

  When we’re ready to leave Basiluzzo, we get back into our gozzo and head over to Lisca Bianca.

  “Notice the color of the rocks here is much lighter than that of the rocks on Basiluzzo? That’s why it’s called Lisca Bianca.”

  I note how perfectly the colors complement the landscape.

  Soon we see many couples swimming toward an arched grotto. Once they are beneath the grotto’s arch, they stop swimming and instead tread water. And then the couples kiss. I raise my brow questioningly in Carlo’s direction.

  He smiles. “This is the special place where I wanted to take you. It’s called Arco degli Innamorati. Lovers’ Arch.”

  “Si. I can see that.” I cannot hide the annoyance in my voice. Does he really think I will feel comfortable kissing him here in front of all these other pazzi?

  “You think they’re crazy, don’t you?” Carlo bends over, laughing uncontrollably.

  “It’s not funny! Why did you bring me here? I don’t want to be romantic with you here in front of all these crazy people!”

  Carlo wipes tears from his eyes. “Sarina, they’re not crazy, and neither am I for bringing you here. There is a legend that says any couple who kisses beneath the arch will be together forever.”

  “Ah!” I blush when I realize how I must’ve sounded.

  Carlo takes my hands in his.

  “Sarina, call me a superstitious fool, but I want to take any measures necessary to ensure that we will be together forever. That’s why I brought you here.”

  I look up into Carlo’s eyes. He leans forward and kisses me.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  Carlo drops anchor and once again we dive into the water. We wait for a few of the couples to clear the arch before swimming over. When we’re beneath the Arco degli Innamorati, Carlo holds me so tightly to him that I don’t need to tread the water as much. His strength amazes me sometimes. He kisses me softly at first, then passionately. As I return his kiss, I send out a prayer to God, asking him to never separate us.

  Later, after we’ve made our way back to the port and returned our gozzo rental, Carlo suggests going north to Ditella, where there are whitewashed houses and the sweet fragrances of jasmine, hibiscus, and bougainvillea compete with one another. It doesn’t take long for the footpath to become steep and narrow.

  “Didn’t we get enough exercise today with all the swimming we did?” I ask Carlo as I trudge up the path.

  “Trust me. You won’t regret the exertion once we get to Tim-pone del Corvo.”

  I don’t protest any further since I’ve learned to place faith in Carlo. His excursions have yet to disappoint me. I cannot help but wonder why we didn’t do this earlier in the day since the sun is beating down on us this late in the afternoon. Taking my time, I finally catch up to Carlo, who has already reached the top and is shielding his eyes from the sun as he takes in the view.

  “I was beginning to think you’d never make it.” Carlo snickers.

  “Funny.” I’m about to make another sarcastic comment, but get distracted by the incredible view. From up here, one can see all across Panarea. And in the north lies the Aeolian Island of Stromboli.

  “Absolutely gorgeous!” I wrap my arms around Carlo’s waist. He places a kiss on my head as he wraps his own arms around my shoulders.

  “So the hike was worth it?�
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  “Si, si! I’m sorry I ever questioned you, my lord.” I pull away from Carlo and bow dramatically.

  “The more I get to know you, Sarina, the more you surprise me with your humor. Did you ever realize how funny you are?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “No. There was hardly any time for laughter in my house, although I did share some funny moments with my cousin Agata.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  As the sun sets, Carlo and I are on the ferry taking us to Filicudi where we’ll spend tonight and all day tomorrow. The sky and waters are cast in a translucent gold as the sun sinks farther beneath the horizon. I lean into Carlo who stands behind me as he holds me.

  Our ferry pulls into the Filicudi Porto, and immediately I sense the difference in atmosphere. Unlike Panarea with its glitz, noise, and crowds, especially around the San Pietro port, where most of the hotels, restaurants, and nightclubs are housed, Filicudi is very quiet. And from the little I can make out of the surrounding area along the port, it’s quite rustic. While Panarea was gorgeous, I feel more comfortable here.

  “We must hurry before the scooter rental closes.”

  Carlo takes me by the hand and begins running toward the scooter rental booth. Sure enough, the old man behind the booth looks like he is getting ready to leave for the day. When he sees Carlo running and waving at him, he immediately comes out and greets us, much different from the person we rented our gozzo from in Panarea, who barely thanked us for our business. Of course with the numerous rich tourists in Panarea, he could afford to be rude.

  As our scooter zips along the pebbly roads in Filicudi, night soon shrouds the tiny island. I cannot believe how eerily dark it is. I don’t even see lights behind the windows of homes.

  “Is it always this dark here?”

  “Ah! I forgot to tell you, and I guess you have never heard. There is no electricity in Filicudi. And this road that we are on is the only one. By day, you will see farmers, and even people who just want to travel to the port, on mules. And you’ll hardly see any tourists. This is considered too remote and off the beaten path for them. Plus, many of the wealthy cannot do without the luxury of electricity.”