Happened in Tuscany

by Lorena Franco

  Magnificenthouse,bytheway.IknowMark,whathappenedtohislife?"

  "Heishere."

  "Mark?InTuscany?Areyouhiswife?"

  "No,no,no..."Iblurtedout,laughing."Nothingofthat."

  "Whatarelief..."hesmilesmischievously."Becauseifyouwerehiswife,Icouldn´tinvite youtodinnertonight."

  Direct,attractive,pleasant,human.Angeloisn´tonlyanattractivefacade,butalsoahuman being that I want to discover. Something about him is endearing and authentic and I want to knowwhatitis.Howlongagodidsomethinglikethishappentome?Much,toomuch.

  Istareathishands;Strongandpowerfulandagaininashorttime,Istarttoamazemyself byhavinglasciviousthoughtswiththem.Withsomesimplehands.Feelinghowtheycaressme,

  they touch my skin. God ... too long without sex. My daughter would say something like:

  "Mom! You are a forty years old woman! It's forbidden to think about what you're thinking.

  "Andyet,IlookatAngeloandmyromanticsidethatlongstoliveanunforgettablelovestory liketheonesI'vealwayswritten,tellsmethatmylifehasonlyjustbegun.Yes,inmyforties.

  AttheagewhenmydaughterthinksIshouldbeinarockingchairswingingandwatchingsoap operasontelevision.Fuckoff!I'mnotevenafraidofnotrememberingwhatitwasliketoflirt, to make out, to pretend something that you are not for the simple fact of pleasing the other person.

  "TellmeAngelo,whereareyoutakingmetodinnertonight?"Iask,closingmynotebook andendingmysearchforinspirationforanextstorythatImusthandinnomatterwhat,ifIdon

  ´twanttolosemyeditorialcontract.IthinkI'llfinditinthisman.AtleastIwantitandIseeit inhisfrankandcuriouslook.Whowasgoingtotellmethisjustafewhoursago?

  MARK

  AmyandIspenttheafternooncooking.Ididn´twanttobecruelandIhavetoldherthather pancakesarethebestIhaveevertasted,buttheyreallytastedhorrible.Ifearformyhealth.

  Ateighto'clockintheafternoon,theadolescentwithcrazyhormonesbeginstoagitate.No signofAlice,shedidnotevensaygoodbyetouswhensheleft.

  "Comeon,takeiteasy.She'sgoneforawalk."

  "Whydidnotshetellmeanything?"Shecouldhavewarnedusthatshewasleaving,Idon´t know...

  "Yousoundlikeamother."

  "Tellherthiswhenshearrives,toseeifshelistenstomeabitatleast"sheretortssulkily.

  The other day she had a date with a guy and she put on a tight red dress. I saw her with the cornerofmyeye,butshehurriedoutofthehousesoshewouldn´thavetolistentomeinsisting toweartheblackdress.Muchmoresober,wherewillshestop!

  Ican´thelpbutlaugh,becauseshehasnoideathatIwashermother'sdate.Thatbriefdate inwhichshecamewithabeautifulbutnotverysuitabletightdress.Andsuddenly,Ifeelbad forlettingmyselfgetcarriedawaybyfirstimpressionsandconfusedbythatbrunettewhowas sittingnexttoheratthebarofmyrestaurant.AlsoIfeelsorrythatIhaven´tinsistedthatshe stay, to know something more ... give her a chance. Again, the damned gastronomic critic tormentsmythoughts,albeitforotherlessprofessionalreasons.Shemusthavefeltbad.And what'sworse,ImadeAlicefeelbadaboutherselfthatnight.

  "Anyway, since she has separated from my father, sheś a disaster" Amy continues. She doesn´t write, she spends the day wandering around the city, pretending sheś thinking of stories; when I know that all sheś doing is gossip my Facebook. And whatś more, she draggedmehere.Farfrommyworld,withoutsignal,withoutmyfriends,withoutMatt..."

  "Who'sMatt?"Iaskwithcuriosity.

  The teenage female world has me most intrigued, after four hours with this young girl whoseaspirationinlifeistomakethebestpancakesintheworld.Shehasn´tstoppedasking mequestionsaboutmyrestaurants,mykitchen,myfavouritedish,howIpreparethesaucesof spaghetti,thesecretsofmyrecipes...Anyway,themostentertainingandunexpectedstuff.

  "Myboyfriend.He'sagreatguy,youknow?IthinkI'vefinallyfoundtheloveofmylife."

  "Thatśwhatyousaywhenyouŕe...fourteenyears?"Iask,tryingnottolaugh.

  "Fifteen.I'mfifteen"shesays,annoyingly."Andyes,Ifirmlybelievethatheistheloveof mylife."

  "Excuseme.ButIalsohadoneofthose"lovesofmylife"whenIwasfifteenanditwas overinablinkofaneye.

  She gets as pale as the wall. She opens her mouth and I know she wants to debate the matter,butontheotherhand,Isupposesheisintimidatedtotalkaboutthesubjectwithaguyin hisfortieswhomshehasknownforonlyfourhours.

  "Whatever, never mind. We will have to prepare something for dinner, although I feel a littlebitlazy."

  "Thefamouschefistoolazytocook?Sheaskswithamockinggrin.ShouldIcook?"

  "Pancakes?"Ilaugh.

  "No!Let'ssee..."

  Amyreopensclosetsanddrawers,twitchingmynerves.Sheisenergeticandmovesfrom onesidetoanotherquickly.ShecouldbeagoodkitchenhelperifIlearnedwherethelimitsof saltandsugarare.

  "Shallwemakeapizza?"Sheasksexcitedly.

  "Comeon.Ipreparethedoughandyoutheingredients."

  "Great!"

  Andasifbymagic,homemadepizzamanagestomakeherforgetthathermotherhasleft homewithoutevensayinggoodbye.AndalthoughIknownothingoftheromanticwriter,Iseem to be more concerned about her whereabouts than her own daughter is; More focused on choosingtheperfectingredientsthatshewantstodinetonight,onthepizzadoughthatIstartto prepare.

  ALICE

  Afterfourglassesofredwine,AngeloandIgotowards PiazzaMichelozzo,wherethe Pozzo Di Pulcinella restaurant is located. Angelo smiles and tells me that it is one of his favourite restaurants in Montepulciano. The place is quite rustic and more to the taste of my deceased grandmother than of mine. There is a clear contrast between its white walls and others made of stone; The warmth of the floor made of wood that squeals as we walk; And tablecloths,alternatingwhiteandyellowcolours.

  Wewentintooneoftheirlivingroomsandsatstaringatthemenu.Tonightthereareonlya fewclientsandthatrelievesme,Ifeelcalmdespitehavingfewmoredrinks.AngeloandIhave beentalkingallafternoon.Wehavetalkedaboutthefastcancerthathastakenawayhismother onlytwoweeksago;abouttheproblemswiththealcoholofhisfather,whodecidedtoabandon themyearsagoandhisbusinesswiththehorses.Hewantsmetogettoknowhishouse,which isn´tatalllikeHopes´mansion."Notallofuswholiveonthehillshavemajestichousesin which,inpastcenturies,kingscouldlive"hesaidwithalaugh.Hesaysheishappywithhis little farm. Next to the house, he has a shed with chickens and rabbits. Instead of swimming pool there is an orchard with tomatoes, lettuces, potatoes ... for him it is a pastime and the businessofhorsesarealprivilege.

  "Willyouletmechooseforyou?"Hesuggests,winkingatme.

  I agree, because the letters on the menu have been intended to play with me and have intermingledwitheachother.

  "Itwillbethebest...IthinkI'malittledrunk"Isayinalowvoice.

  "Thenwe'dbetterordersomewater"hesaysseriously.

  Then,Irememberhissadwordswhentalkingabouthisalcoholicfather.Howharditmust have been for a five-year-old boy, who didn’t understand why the man who'd given him his life,beathismothereveryday.Whenheabandonedthemthatwashissalvation,somethingthat made the bond between him and his mother very strong. Thatś why her loss is very painful; Muchmorethanthedeathofmymotherhurtmefiveyearsago
.

  "Obviously."

  Angelogivesasmiletothewaiterandstartsaskingforwhatseemslikeaninfinitenumber of dishes. I don´t understand anything, but I like the way Angelo treats people. My mother alwayssaid"ifamantreatsawaiterwell,heśworthit.Otherwise,heisadespicablebeing."

  Whenhefinishesorderingandthewaitermovesaway,Iquestionhimwithmyeyesandhe startstolaugh.

  "Ready?" Firstly a Pappardelle with hare, which becomes my favourite pasta. As side dish,adeliciouscheese- pecorinodePienzathatyouhavetotryandasseconddish, Tagliata aiferri.

  "Whatisthat?”

  "A steak of beef, marinated in crushed garlic and grilled olive oil. They serve it cut in smallfetasandtheysprayitwithjuiceoflemonandarugulaleaves."

  "Itlooksgood.But,marinatedingarlic?Thenmybreath..."Ilaugh.

  "Whataboutthebreath?"

  "Itwillstinkofgarlic."I'veneverbeenaferventadmirerofgarlicoronion."Especiallyon adate.Orisn´tthisadate?

  "So?"

  Iblush.Heenjoysthissituation.

  "Doyouwantmetokissyou?"

  I blush even more. How can he be so direct? He has gone straight to the point from the beginning and although I like it, it also bothers me because I am not like that. I am more discreet,lessdirect,andalthoughAngeloappealstomeinmanyways,heisachallengefor me.Andconsideringhowwellweweregoing!

  "I'mmakingitveryeasyforyou,isn´tit?"Heasks,asifhehadreadmythoughts.Onepoint forhim.

  "Whatdoyoumean?"Idissemble.

  I'mdrunkbutIhaven´tbecomeanidiot.Notyet.

  "To my straightforward statements. When I like a woman I want to let her know it immediately.Thislifehastaughtmethatsometimeswehavelesstimethanweexpect,doyou understand?Whywasteit?Whynotacknowledgethatwefindeachotherattractive,evenifit onlyafewhourssinceweknoweachother?"

  Iwasn´tmistakeninthinkingthatAngelocouldbeaninspirationtome.Myheadgoestoa thousandperhour,createscharacters,dialogues,situationsandfinally,afterayearofdrought, it creates "The story". A story about lost time, love, hope, dreams and repentance for not havingdonewhatwewanted,whenwehadtodo.

  BacktoHopes'house

  Withoutrealizingit,itistwelveo'clockatnightandIlosttrackoftime.Thehourshave flownby,theclockhasplayedapracticaljokeonme.

  WhenIleftthehouseatfiveintheafternoon,IdidnoteventellAmywhereIwasgoing.

  MyinitialplanwastotakeashortwalkthroughMontepulciano,tositontheterraceofabarto findsomeinspirationamongthepassers-by,andtoreturnhomesoon,walkingagainalongthe pathatslowpace,contemplatingtheTuscanlandscape.Ididnotexpecttofindsomeonelike Angelo,withsuchaninterestingconversation,andatthesametime,seemtomesofamiliarand friendlyfromthebeginning.Icouldn´tevenimagine,howIwasgoingtoreturntotheHopes'

  houseonfoot.Atnight?Alone?Whichwaywasit?

  "Tellmeyou'vecomebycar,Angelo...oronhorseback"Isay,almostpleading.

  "No"helaughs."Likeyou,I'vecomedowntownonfoot.ButIwillguideyouhome,Iknow thewaylikethebackofmyhand."

  "DoyoulivefarfromtheHope´house?"

  "Atfiveminuteswalking."

  "ShouldIseeyourhousefrommybedroomwindow?"Iaskamusedly.

  "Mountainsstandintheway"hesaysquietly,staringupatthenightsky.

  The dinner was very pleasant and although I have always promised myself that I would nevergooutwithamanyoungerthanme,IcanmakeanexceptionwithAngelo.Afterall,he's onlytwoyearsyoungerandatmyagethereisn´tmuchdifference.

  I´m not drunk anymore and although I'm very tired and I find it difficult to have to walk twentyminutesonthesteeppaths,ImustadmitthatIlovetheridethankstomycompanion.I cursethehourinwhichIhaveeatenthe Tagliataaiferrimarinatedincrushedgarlic,because mymouthstinksandIfeellikekissinghislips.

  "Uff..."Istopexhausted.WhenIwentdownthepath,IdidnotthinkthatIwouldhaveto return...Damntheseslopes."

  "Goingdownhillisajoy,isn´tit?"Angelolaughs."Restandlookatthesky,Alice."

  Angelo puts his hand on my shoulder and I do what he tells me. The sky is completely starryandthemoonshineslargeandpowerful.Inthebackgroundyoucanonlyhearthesilence ofthenightandsomefireflieshiddeninthevineyards.It'smagic.IstareatAngeloandsmileat him,butseeingthathedoesn´thavetheslightestintentionandmischieftoapproachmetokiss me,Iwalkawayalittleandpointtheway.

  "Letśmove.Mydaughtermustbeworriedaboutme."

  AngelohasbeencharmingwhenIhaveexplainedhimhowhardmydivorcehasbeen,how badmydaughterhasfeltandhowruthlessshetreatsmesometimes.Asifitweremyfaultthat herfatherchosetogowithayoungwoman.Hisexactwordshavebeen:"Havepatiencewith Amy.Wehaveallbeenfifteenyearsoldandhavemadelifeimpossibleforourparents.And about your ex-husband ... surely one day, perhaps not very far away, he will realize the incrediblewomanhehaslost."Idon´tknow,Italiansaresaidtobebornconquerorsandlove to enchant the ears, especially of "innocent" foreign women. It could be that way with all of them.Hemaynotlikemeasmuchasitlooks.Imaynotseehimagaintomorrow.OrImaylive themostincrediblesummerofmylifethankstoAngelo.

  ......

  WhenwearrivedatHope´house,IamsurprisedtoseeMarksittingonthefrontporch lookingatthestarrysky.Hehasaglassofwhiskeyinhishandandlookssurprisedtoseeme nexttoAngelo.Perfect,exactlywhatIneeded.Farewelltomyideaof​aromantickissunder theTuscanskywithgarlicflavor.

  "You'vekeptyourdaughterworriedallafternoon.Whydidnotyoutellusyouweregoing out?"Heaskswithoutevensayinghello.

  "Goodevening,Mark"saysAngelo.

  "Cravioto..."Markanswerswithoutmuchenthusiasm.

  They look at each other for a few seconds, as if they were going to duel; So I decide to breakwiththatawkwardsituationandtalk.

  "I'vemetAngeloandIentertainedmyselfabitmorethanexpected.Alsoitisverydifficult tofindsignalandIhaven´tbeenabletocallAmy.Idon´thavetoexplainmyself,Mark."

  "Ofcoursenot."Henods,smiling,andturnshisgazetothedarkmountains.

  "Well,I'mleaving,"Angelointerrupts."Alice,it'sbeenarealpleasure."

  "The same. Thanks for the dinner, for the conversation ... "Under his gaze, knowing that Markdoesn´ttakehiseyesoffalthoughhedissimulateslookingtheotherway.

  "Wemustgoontherouteonhorseback,okay?"

  "Yes,Ìdloveto."

  "Agreed."

  Angelowinksatme,approachesandkissesmeonthecheek.Ihearanervousgigglefrom MarkandIlooklikeanidiotwatchingtheItalianashewalksdownthepath.

  "Youcouldhavegotinandleftmealittleprivacy,right?"Isuggest,buttoolate.

  "Iaminmyownhome.Onmyporch.Onmychair.Withmyglassofwhiskey"hereplies, emphasizingeach"my"exaggeratedly.

  "You're right" I rejoice, not to have any argument I wouldn´t feel like having now, taking intoaccounthowwellthenighthasgonewithAngelo."AndAmy?"

  "Sleeping."

  "She'sbeenwithyouallafternoon?"

  Henods.

  "Hasshebotheredyoumuch?"Iwanttoknow.

  "No,she'sateenagerwithnuttyhormones,veryfunny.Notlikehermother."

  "Hey what's wrong? Do you have something against me? Because if itś so, I'll pack my bagsrightnowandleave."

  "IfIletyougo,CindywillkillmewhenIgob
acktoNewYork."

  "Goodevening,Mark."

  WhenI'mabouttoenterthehouse,Markstopsmegrabbingmyarm.

  "I'msorryourdateendedbadly.Well,itreallydidn´tevenstart."

  "That'sforgotten"Isay,pullingoutofhishand.

  "Anddon´tfallinlovewithAngelo.Thatśanadvice."

  "What?"

  Markdoesn´tanswer.Hejustsipsfromhisglassofwhiskeyandrefocuseshisgazeonthe sky. He is incredibly handsome, the reflection of the moon illuminates him half face and I realizethesadnessthathiseyeshide.Ithinkthatmaybe,thatfacadehidessomethinginteresting thatfornow,Ifeeltoolazytodiscoverit.JustincaseIfallinlovewiththewrongperson.

  Igouptomyroom.It'salmostoneo'clockinthemorning,butIfeellikewriting.Ifeelthe strengthtodosoandsleepwouldbeawasteoftimethatIcan´tafford,thankstoademanding editorialcontractthatthreatenstobedestroyedifIdon´tcreateanewstorysoon.

  IturnonthecomputerandasifIwaslivinginit,Ibegintowritethefirstwordsofmynext novelonlosttime.Irubmyhands,lookoutthewindowintothedarknessofthenight,toward thestarsandthemoon.IthinkofAngelo,hishands,hiseyes,hissmile...andforthefirsttime inalongtime,Ifeellikeawriteragain.Asifthemuseswerestillthere.Asiftheyhadnever abandonedme.

  CHAPTER5

  MARK

  WhatanightIhadyesterday.WhenIarrivedonlytwodaysago,Icouldn´tevenimaginethat inafewhours,thequietandlonelysummerthatIhadinmindtofindoriginalityandgoodtaste inmydishes,wouldgotowaste.

  It's seven o'clock in the morning and the two tenants I have at home are not awaken. I preparecoffeeandsurprisemyselfbythinkingmoreaboutthemthanaboutme."They'llhave theircoffeereadywhentheygetup.Canafifteen-year-oldgirldrinkcoffee?"Iaskmyself.

  Finally, my dining experience with Amy was better than I expected. She even made me laughandforgetmyprofessionaltragedies.Wedecidedtogooutonthebackporchfordinner and before we could bite from the homemade pizza that we both had prepared, someone knockedonthedoor.