XV
During the fall season, when the weather was a tangle of warm and cold days, when the colors and stripes of nature changed chameleon-like, sometimes a black vipera lay under damp leaves, nature’s booby trap for the unsuspecting. And so Nick and Caterina decided to join Nathan and Carlo for the weekend on one of their frequent visits to Assisi. Nick wanted to see firsthand how the stories his friends told him were working out. He instinctively knew that a young guy’s embellishments, ‘some stretchers’ as Mark Twain called them, had to be parsed from a jumble of words, at least when it came to dolls. Nick surmised his buddy was not making headway with Rachele, so he hoped to spark a reaction from this sheltered, young woman. Caterina had first suggested it and then encouraged him, since she had been successful in getting Isabella and Carlo together. Lately, Nick noticed an edgy side to Nate’s cousin, no doubt from what he experienced in Venice. But this trip may have been more about his own relationship with Caterina and maybe staying so long at her place had not been the best idea, like they were married or something. Nick wanted to be with Caterina one last time in Assisi, something out of their Roman routine, but felt their relationship had been a game of shooting craps with each other, running hot and cold.
When Padre Esposito heard the throttle sounds from their motor scooters, he stepped outside the monastery doors to greet them.
“You are all here together. What a pleasant surprise! Fra’ Ginepro, Fra’ Ginepro! Where is he when I need him?”
“Padre, he’s right behind you,” Nick said.
“Si, si, ma naturalmente! Prego, porta nostri ospiti del vino rosso. You must stay here in the monastery.” Padre Esposito smiled and waved then to come closer, so he could hug them all.
Later in the evening Nick and Nathan retired to their cells while Carlo went to meet Isabella at Caffé Minerva. Padre Esposito pulled Caterina aside before she ascended the stairs.
“Do they treat you well at the hospital?”
“Yes, padre. I am treated with respect by Romans.”
“I told il direttore …”
“You don’t have to explain. I never thanked you, mi dispiace, but I … I was ashamed.” She made the sign of the cross.
“Who has not sinned in this country? I said nothing when the facsiste took power. Only later during the war did I agree to help our ebrei italiani. You, my child, are a casualty of your father’s politics.”
Caffé Minerva was the one place that stayed open late. Carlo and Isabella chatted inside over Negroni cocktails. They did not want anyone listening to their conversation, so they spoke in English, as if they were conspiring, Carlo and Isabella’s pairing more impulsive while Nick and Caterina’s situation had been complicated from the start.
“I’ve been lonely waiting for you.”
“I missed you, Isabella.”
“Did you come with Nathan?”
“Si. And Caterina and Nick.”
“Bravo! I must see them tomorrow. Those two are way ahead of us.” Isabella laughed snapping her head backwards.
“I love your laughter …”
“Why is the table shaking?”
“What table?”
“Look, the glass is sliding.” She grabbed his thigh under the table. “Basta, Carlo. Why are you nervous?”
“I told you before. It is a habit I picked up as child. I can’t help it.”
“You were saying.”
“I forgot.” Carlo looked away.
“There is something wrong.” Carlo clenched the glass. “You are lying, Carlo. It is written all over your face.”
“It is difficult to say when, but I must leave you.”
“You don’t love me, Carlo!”
“It’s not about love but something else.”
“Please tell me. Prego!”
“I’m going to fight with the Jewish Brigade.”
“Perchè?”
“It’s something I must do.”
“There is little chance that your family has been spared, may God forgive me for saying it. Allora, you may be the only survivor. And then what happens if you are killed too?”
“I have made my mind up.”
“Take a passeggiata with me. Maybe the fresh air of Assisi will make you think more clearly.”
The next morning after breakfast, Caterina discussed the strategy with Nathan. Nick would be a go-between for Nathan and Rachele, who already hankered to meet Caterina’s boyfriend because he helped save Carlo in Venice. Nathan reluctantly went along with their plan, yearning for a breakthrough. Caterina got permission from the Mother Abbess to take Rachele to Caffé Minerva so she could meet up with Nick.
After gathering at the café, they engaged in small talk so as not to rattle Rachele. Caterina used an excuse that Nathan had wanted to show her a perfect place to sketch a panoramic view from the town. They would return in a short while.
“What would you like to drink, Rachele?” Nick asked.
“I’ll drink whatever you are drinking.”
“Un cappuccino.”
“Yes, that would be fine.”
When the waiter came over, Nick asked if there was a little dark chocolate on top. Rachele motioned to the waiter. “Anch’io prende del cioccolato, per favore.”
As they drank the coffee, she peered over her cup at Nick, who thought it was odd that she was so direct, judging by the Nathan’s detailed accounts of his time with Rachele.
“I wished I could have done something like you did for Carlo. You saved one of our own.”
“I just got lucky, that’s all. I don’t want to upset you, but Giuliano the fisherman lost his life as we fled Venice.”
“You are much better looking than Nathan.” Nick smiled at her.
“That’s not true. Rachele.”
“You are being modest. Protecting your friend, no doubt.”
“Nathan thinks about you all the time. Maybe a bit obsessed, but I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“No, I don’t think you could ever be bad.”
“I’m not so sure your friend, Caterina, thinks that way.”
“She adores you and I can see why.” Nick squirmed in his chair. It occurred to him that this was a mistake, playing go-between. That he was making things worse for Nathan, by feeding into her fantasies about himself from the stories she heard from Caterina and Isabella. Even worse, this business about Caterina adoring him also made him uncomfortable. Nick felt they were all getting deeper and deeper into wartime love entanglements that didn’t have good baseball stats for winning. Look what happened to Cio-Cio San in Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. Not that Nick was going sentimental all of sudden, but he had to admit to himself that the opera, the first one his parents had taken him to see, was one tearjerker at the end for the mother and her child. Not a dry eye in the opera house.
Caterina and Nathan returned to the café and Nick’s head popped up. “I forgot that we promised to meet up with Padre Esposito at the farmer’s market. We’ll leave you two here awhile.” He grabbed Caterina’s arm and ushered her away from the table, calling out, “Ciao,” while Caterina raised her eyebrows.
“Nick, what are you pazzo?”
“I had to scram out of there. This idea of yours went kerflooey.”
“What happened?”
“Rachele has a crush on me.”
“You are so conceited, Nick.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, she’s nuts about me.”
“Prego, this is the first time she met you!”
“That’s the whole point. It’s all up here.” Nick tapped his head.
“Nathan will work something out. Don’t you have faith in your friend?”
“You’re the one that got me into this mess.”
“You make me wonder sometimes.”
“About what?”
“I’ll give one of your standard answers—niente or is it nenti?
“I’m going to take a walk. By myself.”
“Bene!” Caterina watched him disappear into the da
rkness before she turned back to the monastery.
Before suppertime, Nick had a crazy notion and drove his Paperino to the convent. He asked the extern nun if he could see Rachele in the garden, mentioning that he was a good friend of Padre Esposito. The Mother Abbess agreed as long as the extern nun could watch from a distance. Rachele was surprised to see him again so soon and appeared to read more into his motives for the visit.
“I was worried that you left so abruptly. Was it anything I said?”
“No, not all.” A certain smile emerged that reminded him of Deborah. “I thought I could’ve painted a better picture of my friend, Nate.”
“As long as you’re here, I don’t care why.” Nick found himself drawn to her in an uncanny way, yet he was supposed to be an emissary for Nate. He imagined that being close to Rachele was like being home with Deborah, both of these women imaginary for different reasons, but he relished spending a little more time with her now. Nick rationalized that he made Rachele happy, but when he had to leave, the realization set in that this get-together had been going off the tracks. They would crash into a dark forest that Rachele was trying to find her way out, derailing all Nate had been doing, while the weight of a train crushed Nick. It seemed that Nick and his buddy wound up in some roundhouse, where random engines had been assigned to drag miles of baggage in all directions over the matrix. The time had spun out for Nick and Rachele, each grasping for a star of their own, when the extern nun approached the chairs where they sat at an axis opposite to each other. Theirs was a collision that had to be avoided in the galaxy where all of Nick’s friends orbited.
That evening after dinner, the padre had to visit an uncle who was ill and excused himself, while Nick, Nathan and Caterina strolled around the garden. Carlo had not been back to the monastery since their first meal there, choosing to spend all his time with Isabella. Caterina sat in the corner, reading a short story from a Verga collection set in Sicily. Nick and Nathan were on a stone bench closer to the well.
“That was the best meal we had here,” Nathan said. “Father Esposito must have found a good source for getting the best ingredients.”
“Some of the food is produced right here. That’s the best sign of authentic, Italian food.”
Nathan motioned his head in Caterina’s direction. “What’s with the isolation? She didn’t seem too bubbly at dinner.”
“Nenti!”
“That’s very informative.”
“I got nothing to say on the topic.”
“By the way, your harebrained scheme didn’t work.”
“That wasn’t my idea. It was Caterina’s.”
“Why are you so hard on her?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Well, I tell you what’s my business. Were you coming on to Rachele?”
“What?”
“You heard me. She talks about your wavy, black hair and hazel eyes.”
“Will you stop it! I was just trying to help. Don’t blame me because she’s acting delusional.”
“She is not delusional.”
“I said acting and keep your voice down. I don’t want her to hear us.” Caterina slammed her book and glided her hand on the wall up the stairs. Fra’ Ginepro met her at the top landing with a lantern and led Caterina to her cell.
“Now that she’s not in earshot. Did you teach Caterina how to paint while I was away?”
“So what of it?”
“Maybe just a good excuse to get close.”
“You’d better shut up,” Nathan shouted as he stood up. “Why don’t you use some of that emotion sewn up tight inside there?” Nathan tapped his heart. “Appreciate Caterina for who she is now and not what she’s done in the past.”
“Now that’s a switcheroo. Caterina goes from puttana to Madonna.”
“You’re the one deflecting when it comes to Rachele.”
“You’re all wet.”
“And I’ll tell you another thing.”
“Go ahead. You’re already standing on a soapbox.”
“The two of you should never have come here. You’re digging yourself into a hole with Caterina, and now I’m getting deeper myself with Rachele.” Nathan moved toward the stairs and Fra’ Ginepro lit it up for him. Nick walked over to the well and sat on the ground, his back to the wall. Later, he saw a light cascading down the stairs and Caterina appeared at the bottom, the glow snuffed out above. She went over to Nick and sat next to him and they spoke without looking at each other.
“Nick, why were you fighting with Nathan? I could hear you two all the way upstairs.”
“We’re getting on each other’s nerves.”
“Nick, I thought coming to Assisi might bring back some good memories. You’ve hardly kissed me.”
“We can go outside, if you want.”
“That’s not exactly romantic, but maybe I’ve been kidding myself all along.”
“You’re making up things like your friend, Rachele.”
“You don’t have to rub my face in this.”
“We seem to be going around in circles.”
“I know what’s bugging you. That I’ve been with a lot of men.”
“That’s your life.”
“You don’t know anything. My father was shot right out in the street and by the time I came home I saw his body in the gutter. Flames shooting out of our balcony window.” Caterina eyes filled up wet and reddened. “I tried to reach my father but the mob grabbed me when one of them recognized I was his daughter, another fascista sympathizer to them. They were enraged and knocked me to the ground. Some of the women were going to shear off my hair when several nuns came running out of a nearby church and pulled me away, rushing me off the street.”
“I didn’t know, Caterina.”
“You want to know why I prostituted myself. No, you don’t want to know. But I’ll tell you anyway. I had no money, no way to getting at whatever money my family had left, and worse of all, no one would give me any job.”
“I didn’t know.”
Caterina rose and staggered upstairs in the dark, inching the way back to her cell. Nick heard her door slam but he did not get up. He sensed pain in his leg that was traveling up his body, but it was as much emotional as it was physical. The swallows were flying high and low in erratic patterns looking to pick off some unsuspecting insects. He saw a stray cat with protruding ribs creep low in an area where some water had collected, hoping one of birds would drink after their wild chases. Nick considered throwing a stone to scare the cat off but he didn’t bother. The swallows called out a sharp siflitt and flew out of the cat’s reach. Nick had been away from home so long now, it got to the point that he didn’t care about birds or even operatic characters named after a butterfly. He didn’t even raise his head to see what stars were shining that night.
XVI
A Roman winter brought in a surprise dusting of snow outside Nick’s hospital window, where he had been readmitted for his leg wound, the whiteness conjuring up a vision of battle raging on the northern front, along the Gothic Line in the Apennine Mountains stretching somewhere from La Spezia to Pesaro. Sitting at the edge of the bed on his third visit since the summer, he wondered how his former captain and squadron were faring, as the weather turned their tanks into moving iceboxes. The pain in his leg had slowly intensified after Venice, but he refused to let it show in his gait. Nick also had periodic nightmares of his last day with Paul, as he held him dead in his arms, drenched in blood. He sometimes saw Alastar’s bloodied face on the ground. These night pictures seemed more real than that fatal day with his tank crew. He tossed about so much that he must have been wrenching his bad leg.
Captain Monroe’s recent letter mentioned that slight twists of fate brought soldiers closer to death or further removed from it. The tone of the note had a sad quality to it and, though the captain hoped the war would end soon, he continued to fear for his men. After what Nathan and Nick had gone through, he wished them well. Captain Monroe concluded that he neve
r shook off his Virginia accent or his Methodist ways, and maybe they could say a few prayers for the boys in the unit. Nick placed the note in his shirt pocket when the doctor came in.
“Where’s your cane, Corporal Spataro?” He shrugged and the doctor shook his head. “What the hell did you and your pal do with yourselves this past summer? Last month, Sergeant Fein’s seizures came back with a vengeance after stabilizing at the beginning of summer. Now we’ve got to redo the pins in your leg.” The doctor shook his head again. “You two are supposed to be recuperating with your desk jobs, not relapsing.”
“It’s due to complications, that’s all, Captain Randazzo.”
“Great, now you’re doing your own diagnosis.” The doctor shook Nick’s hand and continued holding it. “Just take it easy will you, Nick. And sell that damn scooter.”
One evening Nathan sat on his bed dressed to go out, as Carlo walked in.
“I got tickets to see the army swing band.” Nathan held them up. “Made up of jazz players from different units in Rome.”
“I don’t know, Nathan.”
“Look, I’m feeling better for the first time in a month. Anyway, didn’t you tell me you were a big fan of Benny Goodman and Louis Armstrong?” Nathan got up and put his hand on Carlo’s shoulder. “I don’t know who feels worse. We need a little music in our lives.”
“Okay, I’ll get ready.”
“Bravo cugino.”
Nathan had picked a concert to put them in the right groove and when they got to a packed auditorium of GIs, he saw Carlo’s eyes light up with enthusiasm for life that he had not seen in his cousin since the first day they met in Assisi. The music set lasted straight up for one hour, hitting every emotional chord in their psyche.
Somewhere in the Stars Page 19