I have read a thousand times the novel I wrote this summer and I have also thought of Angelo.Heisoneverypage,inalmosteveryword.Inthedescriptionofthemaincharacter.
Howironic!IwanttoimaginehimsittingontheterraceofacharmingbarinMontepulciano,
flirtingwiththefirstinnocentandattractivetouristtopassby.ButIalsowanttothinkthathe feltsomethingforme.ButnotbecauseIhimtoremembermeinaromanticwayoranythinglike that...butbecauseIneedtobelievethathethinksI'maworthywoman.Manywouldsaytome,
"Theimportantthingisthatyouaretheonewhothinksyouareworthy"andIwouldsayyes, whichistrue.Thefirstpersonwhohastolovemeismyself.ButIlookinthemirrorandIonly seethereflectionofashatteredwoman,forwhatshecouldhavebeenandshewasn´t.Because shehaslivedasummerlove,becauseshehasplayedithard;Butthatcouldhavelastedtherest of my life. How much damage lies do. They are like daggers, which often get stuck in the personwhoseleastblameitis.
Igointhehouse,readytoliedowninbedandnotleaveuntilthenextday.Butthen,Isee AmyandAlessandrosittingonthesofautteringallkindsofpamperingwhilewatchingTV.As soonastheyrealizemypresence,theyturnitoff.
"What'sup?Areyouwatchingpornorsomething?"Iask,withalittlehumor.
I approach them, Alessandro stands up and gives me a hug. I had not seen him in two weeks,sinceAmyandIleftMark'ssummerhouse.
"Howareyou?"Heasksme.
"Itcouldbebetter...No,seriously,whatwereyoulookingat?"Iaskagain,lookingatthe television.
I'mcurious,soIturnonthetelevisionandfindaMarkwithanincredibleself-confidence withflour-filledhands,abouttogiveakisstoafifty-year-oldlady.He'sgoingtokissher...
he'sgoingtokissher...hekissher!AlessandroandAmystareatme,fearingmyreaction.The MarkIwatchonTV,isthesameastheMarkImetthatnightinournon-dateathisrestaurant.
He isn´t the sincere, sentimental, sensitive and generous Mark that I was with. He's back to being the idiot I thought he was, when Amy and I unexpectedly came to his house in Montepulciano.
"It'spartofthegame,Mom"Amytriedtojustify.
"Obviously.It'sokay"Isay,tryingnottogivetoomuchimportance.Ishestillangrywith me?"IaskAlessandro.
"He’sashamedofhowyoubehaved,Alice.Hewantstotalktoyou,hewantstoseeyou...
"
"Hedidnotcallme."
"Hedoesn´tdareandasyoucansee,hehaslittletime..."Alessandrodefendshim.
"Andwiththishewantstowinbackthegoodreputationasachef?"Iask.
"Theypayhimalotofmoney."
"I see. He who said that money isn´t everything ... how quickly the principles of people change.
"Mom!"
"Markisverygoodpeople,Alice"Alessandrosays.
Iknow.ButIseehimthroughthetelevisionscreen,manipulatingwomenwhoaredelighted tohavehimby,andIfeellikegoingtothesetandstampinginthefacethatdamnapplepiethey arepreparing.
MARK
WhenIhavebeentoldintheearwig,thatIhavetogiveakissonthenosetothewomanin frontofmeandwhocooksnexttomeanapplepie,Ialmosthadastroke.IknowwhatIgot into.InaTVshowthattalksabouthousewivesandinwhichtheentertainmentcountsmorethan thegoodcooking.It’sbeenaweeksincewearerecording,thechannelisveryhappywiththe resultsandmoreandmoreviewersareaddedeveryafternoonto"Loveinthekitchenforsingle ladies".Itislive,soanyerrorisfine.Aswesay:"Naturalaslifeitself."Theliteraryreview ofJohnLoganhasbeenforgottenandmyrestaurantshavebeenabreezesinceI'vebeenonTV.
Ikeepaneyeonthemclosely,Ihaveinnovatednewdishesandpeopleareexcitedtogotothe
"fashionable" premises of Mark Hope, the biggest-selling TV chef on the national scene accordingtothemedia.ButthetruthisthatwhenIgethome,Ionlyseeanexhaustedman,inhis forties,whoafewweeksagothoughthehadchanged.Thathehadimproved.
AlessandroinsiststhatImustseparatetheprofessionalfromthepersonal.AndwhenIget home,tohimandwiththepeoplethatmattertome,Imustbethepersonhemetafewweeks agoinMontepulciano.Daybyday,Icontinuetobesurprisedbyhismaturityandhowwellhe isputtingupwithhismother'sabsence.Amy,ontheotherhand,ishelpinghimalottoadjustto hisnewlifeinNewYork;Theyseemveryinlove.Inthesedays,wehavespokenlittleofthe possibilitythatwearebrothers...ofthedarkpastofhismotherandofthesecretthatshehid from him throughout his seventeen years. I look forward to the results of our DNA tests; Normally,Ishouldknowittodayanddeepdown,Iamafraidofthecallfrommytrusteddoctor and to hear that we are not brothers. Because I would like it if we were, that Isabella had a realandconsistentreason,astoentrustmeherson.
Amy has come home several times. I asked her a thousand times to forgive me and a thousandtimesshetoldmethatIneednotapologize.
"Notme,Mark.Tomymother.Shegothurtbyyourbehavior"shesayssadly.
AndIcan´tstopthinkingaboutAlice.HowmanytimesI'vebeenabouttocallher...how many.AndnoneofthetimesIhavebeenableto.Notforlackofdesireortime;butbecauseI wasafraidthatshemighthanguponme,talkmebadlyordirectlysendmetotheshit.Iknow fromCindythatit'snotright.Shethinksmoreofmethanonherownnovel,isdistractedand looksmuchworsethanwhenshedivorcedJack.
"And I assure you that seeing her worse than she was when she left Jack seemed impossible"Cindytoldme.
Whilekissingonthenosethisstranger,IthinkofAlice'skisses.Iwanttoimagineher,to feelthatIamkissingheragain.Ishoulddoit.Onleavinghere,Ishouldgotoherapartmentand tellherthatshehasnoideahowmuchImissher.
"Mark,areyouhere?"Theysaytomethroughtheearwig.Saybuy,hugtheladyandwe’re done.
"And it's time to put the finishing touches on today's show" I began to say, in my most televisedanddynamicvoice."Thankyouforanafternoonnexttousand...lotsofapplepie andlotsoflove!"
Thefifty-year-oldpouncesonmeandgivesmeanotherkissonthelips.Iwithoutknowing whattodo,Iobeyordersofthevoicecomingfromtheearwigthatsaystome:
"Gowiththeflow,Mark...forheaven’ssake,gowiththeflow..."
ButwhenthelightsgooutandIhearthemostdesiredCUT!!,Iabruptlypullawayfromthe womanandIruntomydressingroom.AsIlookatmycellphone,IhaveseveralcallsfromDr.
FisherandIcallbackwithimpatienceandcuriositytoknowimmediatelywhattheDNAtests havesaid.
"Mark,I'mgladtohearfromyou."
"Iwaslive,Icouldn´tpickupthephone"Iapologize.
"Ifigureditout.Wealreadyhavetheresultofthetests."
"Andwhattheysay?"
"YouandAlessandroarebrothers."
"Thankyou,Fisher."
How am I going to tell my mother? How am I going to tell Cindy? The other night, AlessandrotoldmethathewishedIwerehisbrother.Thatheisproudofme,thatIamhisrole model in certain respects. Lucky for him to know in which aspects he can imitate me and in whichhemustn’t...heismuchsmarterthanme.
The first thing that occurs to me is to call Alessandro. He'll probably be out there with Amy. He still has a few days off until he starts to study cooking in the expensive and prestigiousschoolinwhichheisalreadyenrolled.
"Alessandro,wealreadyhaveDNAtests..."Isay,ashepicksupthephone.
ALICE
" Andwhattheysay?"AsksAlessandro.Iknowwho'sontheotherendoftheline.It's Markandapp
arently,healreadyknowstheresultoftheDNAtests.
Whenhehangsup,Alessandrosmilesandstaresatme.
"Whatdidhesaid?"Amyaskscuriously.
"MarkandIarebrothers"Alessandrosays.
"Nowatleast,hewillnotthinkI'minsane"Isayheaddown,leavingtheroomandlocking myselfinmybedroom.
Butafterafewminutes,Ifeelthattheceilingwillfallonmeandthewallsofmybedroom oppressme;SoIleavemyapartmentbeforethewatchfuleyeofmydaughterandAlessandro.
Insteadofgoingforasimplewalkdownthestreetasusual,Igodowntothegarageandtake thecar.IdrivetoNewJerseywiththeintentionofgoingtoseemyfatherandtalkalittlewith him.Hehasalwaysbeenabletogivemegoodadviceandsaytherightwordatalltimes,even ifitisn´twhatpeoplewanttohear.ThesedayshavebeenabsoluteinsaneandalthoughIhave calledhimacoupleoftimes,Ididn’tkeepmypromiseImadetomyselftogoseehimassoon asIarrivedinNewYork.Soit'stimetobecomeawomanofherword.
Iparkthecarinfrontofmyfather'shouse.TheflowersinthegardenthatMomtookcareof with such care, are withered. At least the lemon tree is still alive. I look at the dust accumulated on the windowsill that can be seen from the outside. I find it very sad, Mom would yell to the sky if she saw all the accumulated dirt that doesn´t seem to bother Dad. I pressthedoorbellacoupleoftimes,butIdon´tgetaresponse,soItrytoseeifthedooris open.WhenIseethatitis,Ienterdirectly.
"Dad?Dad?"
"I'mhere!"
Igotothelivingroom.Thereheis,sittinginhisgreenwingchair,watchingadocumentary aboutwhalesontelevision.
"Dad,don´tleavethedooropen.Anyonecanenter."
"Iknow,Iknow...yourmotherhadthesamemania."
"Howareyou?"
"Old."
"Metoo..."Imurmur.Hispitifulgrinmakesmelaugh.
Isitbesidehimandholdhimbythehand.Helooksgood;Atseventy-threehecanboastof anabundantwhitehairandanappearancemanyofthirtywouldwant.Hisblueeyesarestill livelylikethoseofthatchildIhaveseenhundredsoftimesinblackandwhitephotographsand althoughhehasfrequentbackpains,heisstillabletotakelongwalks.Latelyheforgetsthings, Ithinkheislosinghisheadalittleandpreferstostayathomewatchingtelevision,thantogo playagameofcardswithhisfriendsashedidwhenMomlived.Iwanttoconvincemyself that he’s okay, but maybe he’s not. Maybe it's time to have someone to take care of him, becauseherefusestoliveanywhereotherthaninthishousewherehesharedalifewithMom.
It could be said that my father is in love with the memory, with everything he had lived. It could be said that he is so attached to each and every one of the memories that he has of mother,thatitcostshimtokeepgoing.
"Doyouwanttea,sweetie?"Heasks.
"No,don´tbother.Ijustwantedtobewithyouforalittlewhile."
"Howgood.Howwasthesummer?"Heasks,hiseyesabsorbedinapairofwhaleswho areabouttodothesexualact.
I start to cry. I cry like a little disconsolate little girl. My dad’s look, sad and frowning, makesmefeelevenworse.Heapproachesmealittleandhesuddenlylooksatmeasifhehas discovered a treasure. Funny, he does the trick of the coin, pulling it from behind the ear. I begintolaugh.Hewillneverlosethatabilityhehastosurpriseme.IhughimandIamgoingto tellhimthewholestoryandmysummerinawonderfulandunforgettablecornerofTuscany.
"You should talk to Mark, little one. Apparently that chef cares about you. And there’s nobodybetterthanhimtomakeyoufatalittle,you'reveryskinny.
"Iknowwehavetotalk.Thatthiscan´tendlikethis...ofcourseIknow."
"And they are brothers, now they know. He knows you did not lie to him to mess up Isabella'smemory.Poorwoman,holyheaven...whatasadstory."
"It was very sad, Dad. A lot ... But it's like I deleted that moment from my memory, you know?Ionlyrememberthegoodthingsfromthissummer,mymomentswithMark..."
"The good moments can be recovered, you're on time. You have learned that life can go awayinaninstant,sodon´twastetime.Donotmissiteither.Jackneverlikedme,wellyou know...butIthinkthisboywillbetomyliking.Fromwhatyousay,heseemslikeagoodguy.
"
"Thebest"Isayconfidently.
"Youknow,mychild.Loveslikethat,few.Donotlethimgetaway."
"ButI'mangry,Dad.Annoyedbecausehedidnottrustme.Youshouldhaveseenhowangry hegot...hewasfurious."
"Donotbeproud,Alice.Pridedoesn´tgetyouanywhere.Wecanallloseitatsomepoint.
Let’ssee,answermeaquestion:WouldyoupreferMarktostayinyourheartorinyourlife?"
"What?"
"Youheardme,younglady.DoyouwantMarktobepartofyourlifeorstayasasimple memory?"
"Iwantittobeapartofmylife,Dad."
"You'vesolvedtheansweryourself,Alice.Donotwasteyourtimewiththisoldfooland goforit."
"No,Iwanttobewithyouforalittlewhilelonger,Dad."
"I'mdelighted.Doyouwantustoordersushifordinner?It'stimefordinner,isn´tit,Alice?
Icraveforsushi"hesaysfunnily.
"Ofcourse,Dad."
CHAPTER15
MARK
TotaldisappointmentwhenIfirstgotothespaciousandbeautifulapartmentofAlice,andnot findherthere.
"I don´t know where she's gone" Amy says miserably. She left two hours ago without tellingusanything.
"Youhavenoideawhereshecouldgo?"Iask.
"She usually takes long walks in Central Park." She says it inspires her. Amy shrugs, lookingatAlessandro.Areyougoingtofixthings,Mark?
"Ifyourmotherwants..."Ihesitateforamoment."Formypart,yes.Iwanttofixthings,I wanttobewithher,Amy.ButIdon´tknowifshecanforgiveme.Igotangry,Ididnottrusther.
"
"Donottortureyourselfanymore,Mark"Alessandrosays."I'msureshe'llforgiveyou."
"Ifshehadbeenwithajerklikemyfatherforsomanyyears..."Amysnorts.
"Donottalkaboutyourfatherlikethat,Amy"Isay."I'mgoingforawalkinCentralPark, maybeI'llfindher."
"Howromantic!"Amyexclaims,cominguptomeandhuggingme."Andbytheway,ifyou everkissthemouthofanotherwoman,evenontheTV,becauseyoureceivedorderfromthe earwigorwhatever,I'llbethenextonetoleaveyouwithablackeye.
"Shut up, shut up. They still have to put a lot of make-up so that no one will notice the swellingthathasremained"Ilaugh."Well,I'mgoingtoCentralPark...Wishmeluck!"
"Goodluck!Thetwoyoungmensay,withtheirhornyhormonesinunison."
I walk quickly towards Central Park and into the compound. It has already become dark andfewpeoplearewalkingaround,exceptforsomeaddictedtothesport,romanticcouples andcluelessoldmen.
I look around me intently. Central Park is huge and it's possible that even if Alice is strolling here, I will not find her. An hour and a half later, I give up and decide to return to Alice'sapartmenthopingthatshehasalreadyreturned.
"Noway.She'sgoneouttodrinkmojitos"Amysays.
"Callher.I'msureshewillnotanswertome."
Amy calls her, but Alice doesn´t answer. We call Cindy, but she doesn´t know anything abouthersincefour-thirtyintheafternoon,thetimeAliceleftheroffice.
"I'm going to start worrying" Amy murmurs, looking at the screen of her cell phone. I'm goingtocallGrandpa,seeifshe'sthoughtofgo
ingtoNewJerseyoranything.
Afterafewseconds...
"Nothing,hedoesn´tanswereither."That’sweird.
"Shallweprepareapizza?""LikeinMontepulciano"Isay,tryingtolookserene.
"Let'sseeifshehaslosthermindandshe'swithmyfather"Amythought.
ButshecallsJack,andherespondshastilythathedoesn´tknowanythingaboutAliceand thathewouldn´twanttoknowanythingaboutherinahundredmorelives.
"Whatanidiot!"HowcouldIhavethoughtthattheywouldbetogetheragain?Nowonder Mom and that bleached blond woman of twenty-five years have fled away. Being with my fatherisapunishment.
"Amy...don´ttalkaboutyourfatherlikethat..."Iadviseagain.
"Whatwasyourfatherlike,Mark?"Amysuddenlyasks.
"Apparentlyatruestranger"Ireply,lookingatAlessandro,whointurnlooksatmesadly.
"HowmanytimesIwantedtomeetmyfather"Alessandrosays."Mymotheralwayssaid shehadacrazytime.Thatshewaswrongathousandtimes,butthatfromoneofthosemistakes, thebestthingfromherlifehadbeenborn...me."
"Alessandro...don´tgetdepressednow,okay?"Amysays,grabbinghimbythewaistand givinghimakissonthelips.
"Guys,it'sokaytohaveconfidenceandstuff,butaslongasyou'reunderageyoudon´tkiss infrontofme,okay?"
"You talk like a father, brother-in-law" Amy laughs. No, let’s see ... it can´t be that my motherismissing.
"Isitsomethingshedoesoften?"Havesheeverdoneit?
"Never!That'swhyIfinditsostrange."
Amy, uneasy, begins to wander around the room. She's starting to get me nervous, so I decide to go to the kitchen and this time I'm the one who starts to open foreign cabinets and drawers,tofindoutwherearetheingredientsIneed,toprepareapizzathatremindsusofour SummerdaysinMontepulciano.
"ShallIhelpyou?"Alessandroasks.
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