Carissima

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  “Francesca told me she’s come to admire me and she couldn’t think of a better woman for Lorenzo.”

  “Wait a second. She’s told you this already. So—” Gregory’s voice trails off as we both realize what I’ve just said. I completely wasn’t thinking. Tears fill his eyes. I hate myself. I hate myself for not believing in his love for me, for not trusting him, for hurting him now.

  “I’m sorry, Gregory,” I say through choked sobs. “I really did think you cheated on me with Madeline. I missed you terribly, too, the first few weeks I was here. Lorenzo kept me distracted by taking me sightseeing, and I kept him preoccupied after he learned the truth about Francesca’s being his mother.”

  “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

  “A little over a month, but I’ve only agreed to see him more seriously in the past week.”

  “Gee. That makes me feel better.”

  “I’m sorry, Gregory.”

  We reach the picnic grounds, but I don’t want to sit down even though I feel drained from all that I’ve just learned. My head is spinning. How could Francesca do this to us? And she claimed she cared about Gregory. She only cares about herself.

  “So what are you going to do now that you know the truth?”

  “I’ll have to confront Francesca, of course, and I can’t stay with her anymore. I’ll probably book the next flight back to California.”

  “I meant what are you going to do about Lorenzo?”

  “I don’t know. He’s going to be so upset to hear about what Francesca did. First, the woman he thinks is his mother dies, then he learns that his aunt is really his mother and gave him up for adoption, not once but twice. And on top of that, she bribed someone to make it easier for him and me to get together. He’ll never want to talk to her again.”

  “Pia, you’re avoiding the question. You know what I’m asking. Are you still going to continue to see Lorenzo?”

  I look at Gregory then glance away.

  “I can’t think about this right now. It’s too much. Everything you’ve just laid on me. I’ve hurt you. I don’t want to hurt someone else again. Lorenzo’s already been through so much.”

  “So have I, Pia. I lost the love of my life, and all because of a crazy actress’s meddling. And to think, I agreed to paint her portrait out of a sense of obligation and respect toward her. From day one, Pia, your instincts about Francesca were right on target. I just wish you had trusted me more instead of believing so readily that I had cheated on you.” Gregory curls his hands into fists and turns his back toward me. I hear him exhale deeply.

  “There was more to it than just my thinking you were unfaithful, Gregory. You were right when you told me that day that I was running and that I was afraid of fully committing to you. I was afraid of losing you the way I lost Erica. I was also worried because ever since you were discovered, you had so little time for me. I thought that would be the norm, and I couldn’t deal with it.”

  “You didn’t give me much of a chance, Pia. I know I should have made more time for you, and I was planning on it, but I guess that doesn’t matter now. I’m too late. And so much for my being ‘discovered.’ ” Gregory makes quotation marks with his fingers when he says “discovered.”

  “The only reason I was discovered is that Madeline bribed Nathan. No wonder there was a low turnout at my second show. I wouldn’t be surprised if Madeline was also mad that I had rejected her, and she made sure her friends from the art world didn’t show up. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Gregory, stop that. You are talented. Even if Madeline and Nathan persuaded their friends to come to your show, they didn’t pay them off to buy your paintings.”

  “As far as I know.” Gregory lets out an exasperated laugh.

  “Come on, Gregory. You can’t let this make you insecure. I’ve always believed in you as an artist, and I still do.”

  “But you don’t believe in us anymore, do you?”

  I turn my head to the side, taking in the beautiful cypress and pine trees that line the Via Appia Antica. Fragments of tombs and statues are strewn across the fields, and in the background, the Alban hills make for a stunning panorama. Francesca was right. This is a romantic place to have a picnic. But here I am, breaking up with Gregory a second time.

  “Pia, I know you still care about me. Don’t go back to California. My return ticket is for the day after tomorrow. Come back with me to New York. Let’s start all over.”

  “I do care about you, Gregory, but that doesn’t mean that we should get back together. I also care about Lorenzo. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you an answer now. My mind is still reeling from all that you’ve told me. I need to think.”

  “Okay. I’ll be staying at the Hotel Trevi, right by the Trevi Fountain.” Gregory takes out a Post-it pad from his backpack and jots down the hotel’s name.

  I take the Post-it and place it in my purse.

  “I’ll get going. I know you have plans.”

  I can tell by the way Gregory says this that he’s figured out my plans are with Lorenzo. The hurt that was in his eyes earlier when he learned we were dating is back.

  “Oh! I almost forgot your laptop bag. Here you go. Will you be all right carrying that back by yourself?”

  “Yes, thanks. My picnic basket will be emptier after I eat so I’ll be fine.”

  “I guess bye for now.”

  “Bye.”

  Gregory heads back in the direction of the bus stop. I watch him for a little while. He’s staring down at the ground while he walks; both of his hands are in his pockets. Finally, I turn around and walk. I don’t pay attention to where I’m going. I just keep walking. But soon the weight of the picnic basket and my laptop bag are too much. I stop. No one is around. I’ve strayed quite far from the picnic grounds. I take out of my picnic basket a bed sheet and lay it on the ground. I sit down and take out one of the bottles of wine I brought. I’m extremely thirsty and realize I should’ve also packed water. After opening the wine bottle, I fill the plastic cup I brought and down it in one huge gulp. I pour another cup. Instead of unwrapping the muffuletta, I just take one of the figs and eat that. My stomach has been doing somersaults since I saw Gregory. The thought of eating something heavier repulses me right now. I can barely even eat the fig.

  Taking in a few deep breaths, I realize this is the first time I’ve been alone outdoors in weeks. Lorenzo has been by my side almost every day since we started our sightseeing excursions. And when he was busy, Francesca would take me out to eat or to go shopping. I close my eyes and enjoy the serenity here. But it doesn’t last. My cell phone rings. About two weeks ago, I reinstated the international plan and had my cell phone activated. It was easier for when Lorenzo wasn’t picking me up at Francesca’s, and we were meeting in some crowded part of Rome. My cell phone screen shows Lorenzo’s name.

  “Hey.” My voice sounds flat.

  “Pia, I’m finally leaving my friend’s apartment now. I’ll hop into a cab and meet you at the Via Appia Antica. I should be there within the hour, depending on traffic, since everyone is leaving work now for their midday meals.”

  “That’s fine. Take your time. I haven’t even begun eating.”

  “Really? I thought you were going to eat without me. What have you been doing all this time?”

  “I’ve just been walking around and enjoying the scenery. I couldn’t wait to open the wine. I got thirsty and forgot to bring water. But don’t worry, there’s still plenty of wine for you.”

  “I wasn’t worried. I have yet to see you drunk!” Lorenzo laughs.

  “Well, I’ll see you soon. Ciao!” I can’t get off the phone soon enough.

  “I can’t wait!” Lorenzo says before he hangs up.

  Fortunately, Lorenzo was out on the street so I’m certain with all the background noise he wasn’t able to detect my less-than-enthusiastic responses. Part of me was hoping that he would’ve still been held up with his friend at the hospital. I should have canceled o
n him, but then he’d know something wasn’t right. I just want some more time alone before I tell him what Gregory told me. Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow. Maybe for one more afternoon, I can pretend everything is fine.

  And on that last thought, I pour another cup of wine. Lorenzo might finally get to see me drunk after all.

  By the time Lorenzo arrived, I had a good buzz going. He found it amusing, and it made it easier for me to joke. He wasn’t able to tell that something was bothering me. He loved the muffuletta, and I ate some before all my drinking made me sick. After eating, we headed over to the catacombs.

  The Roman catacombs lie underneath the Via Appia Antica, along either side. They date as far back as the second century. Many examples of early Christian art from before AD 400 can be found in the catacombs. Jewish art is also present. Lorenzo tells me there are at least forty catacombs, and some have been discovered only in recent decades. Ancient Romans were adhering to the laws of their day that required the dead to be buried underground and far from the city’s perimeters. It was long believed that the creation of the catacombs stemmed from Christian persecution. But historians later discovered the underground cemeteries came about because of Rome’s edicts. Since a large number of saints were buried in the catacombs, they also became shrines and were popular for pilgrimages.

  We decide to visit first the Catacombs of San Callisto, which is the oldest and best preserved of the catacombs. Many popes are buried here as well as martyrs, along with other Christians. Named for deacon Calixtus, who was appointed by the pope in the third century to supervise the cemetery, the Catacombs of San Callisto became the official cemetery of the Church of Rome.

  Luckily for Lorenzo’s quick thinking, he asked the friar at the entrance to the catacomb if we could leave our picnic basket and my laptop with him. Normally, I’d be nervous about leaving my laptop with a total stranger, but the fact that he’s a man of the cloth allays my anxieties. Lorenzo informs me that there will be more friars who act as guides inside the Catacombs of San Callisto. The guided tour is included with the admission price.

  As we enter the narrow passageway of the Catacombs of San Callisto, I’m glad I didn’t take the picnic basket and my laptop. A friar soon greets us in English. As he begins our tour, he tells us that these catacombs stretch out on four different levels. He goes on to explain that the rooms and passageways are made out of volcanic tufa. The dead were laid in niches, also known as loculi, which could hold two or three bodies.

  The air is cool, as you would expect it to be beneath the ground, but the narrow passageways can make one feel claustrophobic. The air smells like a combination of sulphur and dirt. We enter a gallery with Early Christian frescoes. I’m amazed that I’m looking at artwork that dates back centuries, and it almost manages to make me forget Gregory’s visit. I haven’t decided yet if I will tell Lorenzo this afternoon that Gregory is in Rome or if I will wait until tomorrow. I know the longer I put off telling him, the harder it will be. There’s also the issue with Francesca. I don’t think I can put on an act like I’m doing with Lorenzo and wait to have my confrontation with her.

  We move on to the Crypt of the Popes, where many of the first popes were buried. It is one of the most ancient areas in the catacombs, along with the Crypt of Santa Cecilia, which we’re making our way over to now. I’m disappointed to learn from our friar guide that Santa Cecilia’s body no longer rests in this crypt. After her body was discovered in the Catacombs of San Callisto in AD 820, her remains were moved to the church named in honor of her in Trastevere, which is the site where she was martyred.

  After we visit the Catacombs of San Callisto, we head over to the Catacombs of Domitilla, the largest in Rome. Once we’re done exploring these catacombs, we decide to go back above ground and visit the Church of Domine Quo Vadis, where Christ appeared to Peter. As soon as we enter, I go and sit down in one of the pews.

  “Tired, huh?” Lorenzo joins me.

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “Is everything all right, Pia?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You just don’t seem yourself, and then drinking all of that wine before I even got here and before you ate. That’s not like you.”

  “Something happened today. I’m still rattled, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell you this afternoon or tomorrow. But I might as well tell you now. Gregory is here.”

  “In Rome?”

  “Yes. I ran into him when I was leaving Francesca’s. He told me he had to talk to me and was quite insistent.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He’s staying at one of the hotels by the Trevi Fountain.”

  “What did he want?”

  “This is going to be a shock, Lorenzo. He told me that Madeline Drabinski confessed to him that Francesca bribed her to try and sleep with him so that I’d break up with him to pave the way for you and me.”

  “That’s preposterous! Boy, I guess the guy will do anything to get you back.” Lorenzo’s voice rises, causing a few people who are kneeling in front of us in prayer to cast stern glances in his direction.

  “Let’s go outside so we can talk more easily,” he whispers.

  The frankincense of the church along with all the wine I had to drink earlier is making me feel woozy. As soon as we step outside, I take a few deep breaths. We walk slowly along the Appian Way.

  “Francesca really did bribe Madeline, Lorenzo. Madeline had it all on tape. Gregory played it for me, and there’s no mistaking Francesca’s voice. She also had Madeline bribe Nathan Horowitz to discover Gregory, again, so that he’d be too busy for me and that would create a wedge between us.”

  “I see Francesca hasn’t learned from her past mistakes. She’s wrecking people’s lives again just as she did with my parents all those years ago.” Lorenzo pinches the corners of his eyes shut and lets out a long sigh.

  “I’m sorry to have to break this to you after everything you’ve been through recently.”

  “So you said she bribed Madeline to ‘try and sleep with Gregory. ’ Does that mean he’s still professing to you he didn’t?”

  I nod my head.

  “You believe him now, however.”

  “Lorenzo, you said it yourself that I didn’t actually catch Gregory and Madeline in the act of making love. And now with this revelation, everything makes sense.”

  “How so?”

  “Gregory couldn’t understand why Francesca would go to such lengths in hopes of you and me dating. But that was before he knew that you’re her son. She also admitted to me just the other day that she’d secretly hoped we would get together. She told me she’s come to respect and admire me and couldn’t think of a better woman for you. She was manipulating all of us, Lorenzo. I’m sure as your mother she thought she was doing what was best for her son.”

  “I’m sure, just the way she thought it was best to have nuns raise me and then give me to her sister so that her acting career wouldn’t be jeopardized.” Lorenzo’s voice sounds very bitter.

  “The more I think about it, the more it becomes clear. She was also trying to convince me shortly after I arrived here that Gregory wasn’t the type to commit; she said as long as she’d known him, he had gotten bored easily. She also assured me I would never see him again.”

  “I’m sorry on her behalf, Pia. I know I’m not the one who should be apologizing, but unfortunately, I am related to her.”

  “More than anything else, I’m disappointed in her. I was really beginning to grow fond of her.”

  “Don’t lose sleep over her. She’s not worth it.”

  “Does this mean you’re not going to try and forge a relationship with her, Lorenzo?”

  “I can’t trust her. And besides, I have my own life, and so does she. Maybe if I had been younger when I found out the truth, but then again, I would’ve been more susceptible to her manipulative ways then. No, I think it’s better I cut all ties with her.”

  Though I’m mad at Francesca, I can’t help feel
ing sad that Lorenzo won’t try to have some sort of relationship with her. She is after all his mother.

  “So I take it Gregory wants you back.”

  I can’t look at Lorenzo. I should say something, but I can’t.

  Suddenly, Lorenzo stops and picks my chin up with his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. I start sobbing. He hugs me to him.

  “Shhh. It’s okay. I’ve always known, Pia, you weren’t crazy about me the way you are about him.”

  “I did—I do—care about you. I don’t want to hurt you,” I cry into his chest.

  “I know you don’t, Pia. But I also want you to do what will make you happy. Your staying with me to avoid hurting me doesn’t help either of us, now does it?”

  “You’ve been nothing but kind and generous with me. I’ll never forget that.”

  “Good. I want you to only have the best memories of me.”

  His being so magnanimous toward me just makes me cry even harder.

  “Listen to me. I’m going to hail a cab to take you back to the Trevi Fountain. Go to Gregory. Don’t waste any more time. And don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “We can share a cab.” I can’t believe I’ve just said that, but I feel horrible leaving him alone.

  “Pia, I’ll be fine.”

  I nod my head. We walk toward the entrance of the Via Appia Antica. Lorenzo holds my hand. A few empty cabs line the curb. He walks over to one of them, tells the driver my destination, and pays him.

  “No, Lorenzo. I can’t let you do that.”

  “Please, Pia. Let me do this last thing for you.”

  I know it’s no use arguing. I’d just make an already awkward moment worse.

  I hug him, and he hugs me back. He whispers into my ear, “Be happy.”

  And with that he walks briskly away, never turning back once.

  30

  Francesca