Home to Italy (10 page)

Early one afternoon,
Peppi was sitting at his kitchen table. Still in bathrobe and slippers, he sipped a cup of coffee and stared out the window while he nibbled on a crust of bread. It was a warm, bright day with big puffy white clouds pasted against the blue Abruzzo sky. Peppi had been cooped up inside for the better part of a week and now he longed to feel the warmth of the sun on his face again. He took that as a sign that the deep vein of cold, nervous exhaustion within him was starting to thaw. He was getting better, just as Luca said he would.

Peppi yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He was contemplating getting dressed and perhaps taking a little stroll outside in the sun when suddenly he heard a loud commotion in the offices down below his rooms. There seemed to be a great deal of screaming going on, most of it being done by Lucrezia. Though muted by the floorboards, the shriek of her voice was unmistakable. By now Peppi, like everyone else, had grown accustomed to her occasional outbursts. He couldn't help chuckling, for he knew that somebody downstairs was catching an earful.

Peppi listened more closely, trying to guess who the unfortunate recipient of her wrath might be. He thought he could hear Luca's voice and perhaps one other, probably Enzo's. From the little he could make out, it sounded as if the two of them were pleading with Lucrezia about something, but obviously not having much success at it. Lucrezia, as one of the factory workers had once told him, was a force of nature when she was riled up. When the storm clouds swirled in around her it was not unusual for objects to start flying through the air. It came as no surprise, therefore, when Peppi heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. There was no way to know for sure, but he guessed that some object resting upon her desktop had found its way out into the courtyard through an unopened window. A moment later he heard the slamming of doors, and then all was quiet downstairs once more. Lucrezia's periodic squalls could be hellacious in their intensity, but more often than not they passed very quickly, like a thunderstorm in springtime. This one had evidently subsided.

After finishing his coffee, Peppi mustered the energy to get dressed. He thought of taking a walk, but he soon realized it was beyond him, so instead he sat for a while on the stairs outside his apartment. That brief taste of sunshine and fresh air was enough to tire him out. He went back in, stretched out on his bed once more, and took a little nap. He awoke later that afternoon to the sound of someone knocking on his door.

“Peppi, are you here?” he heard Luca call.

“Si,
come in,” he answered through a yawn. “Where else would I be?”

Peppi rolled his legs off the bed and stood. When he came into the kitchen, Luca had already settled into a chair at the kitchen table and was looking over the derailleur on Peppi's bike.

“You know,” Luca said thoughtfully, “if you're going to stick with Campagnolo on this bike, you should really think about upgrading to the ten-speed gruppo.”

“If I ever ride my bike again,” replied Peppi with another yawn. He took out a carafe of red wine and filled two glasses.
“Ecco,”
he said, setting one of the glasses in front of Luca, “I think you need a little of this right about now.
Salute.”

“Salute,”
answered Luca, raising his glass. He took a good long sip, set the glass down, and let out a sigh. “I take it you heard all the uproar today,” he said wearily.

“It was hard not to,” said Peppi. “I thought for a moment that the roof was going to blow off.”

“Tell you the truth, so did I,” a laughing Luca said. He looked over at the counter and then to the refrigerator. “Hey, do you have any cheese?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” said Peppi. “I've got some nice bread too. One of your workers dropped it off for me this morning.”

“You read my mind.”

“They're good people, you know, the ones you have working for you,” said Peppi, setting the bread and cheese on the table.

“I'd be lost without them,” Luca agreed.

Peppi opened the refrigerator once more and produced a stick of dry sausage, some roasted red peppers, and a plate of olives. He set these and a bottle of olive oil on the table alongside the bread and cheese. Luca took the loaf of bread and ripped off a healthy chunk. Peppi did the same. With the formalities dispensed with, the two of them set to work on the cheese and the sausage and the peppers and olives.

Luca smiled as he watched Peppi lop off a thick slice of sausage. “You're getting your appetite back,” he noted with obvious satisfaction. “I told you it would happen.”

Peppi took a bite of the sausage and let out a contented sigh. “I'm feeling better,” he said with a shrug. “Still a little tired, but not so nervous anymore. I almost feel up to fixing that broken window in the office downstairs.”

Luca caught the mischievous look in Peppi's eye.
“Mannagia,”
he groaned. “I thought she was going to crucify us all today.”

“But why,
ch'è successo?”
asked Peppi. “Something bad?”

“It was nothing at all,” said Luca. “Just a bunch of silly nonsense.”

“Then why all the fuss?”

“Francesco's birthday,” replied Luca with a shrug.

“Francesco?”

“It's this week,” explained Luca. “Lucrezia always gets a little out of control right around this time every year. Now and in the autumn, when he had his accident, God rest him. Somehow, though, I always end up forgetting about it. It wasn't until late this morning that I remembered. I had just walked in and all the workers were in a state because my daughter had been cracking the whip since the moment they arrived. I asked one of them what the trouble was and they all pointed to the calendar on the wall. That's when it dawned on me and I knew in that moment that we were all in for a very long day, and probably one or two more.”

“Poor girl,” said Peppi.

“Poor
girl
?” huffed Luca. “What about poor me and the rest of them?”

“You'll survive,” chuckled Peppi. “Besides, despite all the bluster, I can see that deep inside she loves you all. What's more, you all know it. Why else would you put up with her?”

Luca made no reply but instead swallowed another chunk of bread and cheese and washed it down with a gulp of wine. He poured himself another glassful and sat back in his chair.

“You have a point,” he finally admitted. “But that doesn't make things any easier.”

“Whoever said life was supposed to be easy?”

At that Luca laughed, but then his face grew more serious as he stared into his glass of wine.
“Povera ragazza,”
he muttered. “I just wish she could find someone, forget all this sadness and start all over again.”

“It will happen someday,” said Peppi.

“But when?”

“Whenever God decides the time is right.”

“Well, I wish He'd hurry up and make up His mind,” sighed Luca, “before the rest of us lose ours.”

Maybe it was the wine,
or perhaps he really was getting better, but Peppi went to bed early that night after Luca left and slept straight through till the morning, something he hadn't done in weeks. When he awoke the next day he felt reasonably refreshed, not yet his old self but definitely well on the way. Just the same he felt troubled, for he had awakened to the sound of someone softly crying outside. At first Peppi thought he had been dreaming, but when he opened his eyes and sat up, he heard it again. Anxious to see who it might be, he pulled his legs from beneath the covers, stretched them a little, and went to the window. He opened the shutters a crack and peered out at the morning sky.

It was very early; the top edge of the rising sun had barely cleared the crest of the mountains, but already Peppi could tell that it would be another warm day. Unlike the weather earlier in the week, however, there was a damp heaviness in the air now that clung to his skin like an old sweater. They were sure to get a thunderstorm before the end of the day. For now, though, all was quiet save for the sound of weeping coming from down below.

Peppi opened the shutters a little more and gazed down at the courtyard. There, beneath the arbor with its grapevines hanging down, surrounded by the gardens with the flowers just opening their petals to the morning light, sat Lucrezia. Oblivious to the beauty all around her, she stared blindly into the distance, her eyes and cheeks wet with tears. Clutching a picture frame tight to her heart, she rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably now.

Transfixed, Peppi stood there and watched the pitiful scene from his window. He tried to turn away, but he could not take his eyes off her, for he recognized the deep anguish in her sobs, the inconsolable grief. The pain. They all reminded him of his own. But his pain was relatively new, the result of wounds that were still fresh. It struck him through to think that Lucrezia or anyone could still suffer so greatly from such old wounds, ones that should have healed long ago.

Peppi finally stepped away from the window, ashamed of himself for having spied on Lucrezia at such a vulnerable moment. He sat back on the bed and stared at the floor, trying not to listen, to allow her the privacy she obviously wanted. After a time, he turned and took the picture of Anna from the table beside the bed. He gazed at his wife, trying to recall everything about her. Her voice, the smell of her hair, the soft feel of her cheek. To his dismay, he found that already those precious memories were starting to fade.

With a sigh, Peppi lay back on the bed and rested the picture of Anna on the pillow beside him. He closed his eyes in the hope of falling asleep again, but by now sleep had been chased away by the light of the new day and the tender lament of Lucrezia's tears drifting up from the courtyard. Peppi tried rolling away from the window and burying his ears in the pillow, but it didn't help. Somehow that only seemed to make the sound and the light that much more insistent. Letting out a groan of consternation, he set Anna's picture back on the table, pulled himself out of bed, and dressed quickly.

 

Lucrezia was still there when Peppi peeked around the corner of the building. He stepped out onto the gravel path that led through the center of the courtyard and walked toward her. The crunching of the stones beneath his shoes alerted Lucrezia to his presence. At seeing Peppi approach, she jumped up and began to walk away.

“Buon giorno, Signorina,”
Peppi said with his usual warmth. “Forgive me for startling you. Please don't go.”

Lucrezia stopped short in her tracks and turned slowly around. Still clutching the photograph, she looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “You didn't startle me,” she said tersely. “It's just that I was…what I mean to say is that I…How long were you there watching me?”

“Oh, I just came down a few moments ago,” Peppi told her. “Please, go ahead and sit back down. I didn't come to bother you.”

To his surprise, Lucrezia did sit back down on the bench, though she looked not at him but away toward the mountains. Peppi walked up to the bench and gestured to the space beside her.

“May I?” he asked.

Lucrezia responded with a shrug, as if to say that it made no difference to her one way or the other. Peppi took a seat. They sat for a long time in awkward silence.

“Che bella mattina, eh?”
Peppi finally remarked. “It's a beautiful morning.”

“I hadn't noticed,” said Lucrezia, still gazing off into the distance. Abruptly she turned to him. “Are you sure you weren't over there hiding in the bushes, spying on me?” she said menacingly.

“Of course not,” Peppi reassured her.

“Good,” she said firmly, “because I don't like people who stick their noses into other people's business.”

“I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing,” said Peppi. At that Lucrezia seemed to relax a little. “No,” he went on, “I wasn't hiding in the bushes. Actually I was watching you from my window.”

Lucrezia let out a gasp of indignation. “How could you do such a thing!” she cried out.

“Well, it's very quiet here in the early morning,” Peppi calmly explained, “and it was hard not to hear you. Don't be angry with me. You see, I saw you sitting here all alone and you looked so sad. To tell you the truth, I've been feeling alone and sad myself for some time now, and I just thought that maybe I'd come down and we could both sit here and be alone and sad together for a little while and maybe both of us would feel better.”

Peppi looked into Lucrezia's eyes. He wasn't sure if what he saw in them was outrage or resignation. In either case, though, she did not get up and leave as he feared she might. Instead she slumped against the arbor and let out a long sigh. She suddenly looked as weary as he felt.

Peppi nodded to the picture in her hands. “May I have a look?” he said.

Very tentatively, as if she were holding a baby or some rare object of incalculable value, Lucrezia handed him the picture frame. Peppi held it up before him and studied the face of the young man in the picture.

“Your husband was a fine, strong-looking man,” he said after a time. “I can see why you miss him so.”

“Grazie,”
she murmured in reply. She looked about at the gardens with sad eyes. “Francesco and I, we used to sit here together all the time,” she said. “It was beautiful then like it is now.”

Peppi handed back the picture, reached inside his shirt, and withdrew his picture of Anna. He gazed lovingly at it for a few moments before passing it to Lucrezia.

Lucrezia sat up straight. “Your wife?” she said with genuine interest, taking it from his hands.

Peppi nodded in reply.

As Lucrezia gazed at the picture, her expression seemed to soften. “She was beautiful,” she said after a few moments. “How long were you married?”

“I met Anna just after I went to America,” Peppi told her. “We were married soon after.”

“That's a good long time to be married.”

“It went by in an instant.”

“I know,” sighed Lucrezia, “I know.” She handed him back the picture. “Thank you for letting me see her.”

“Prego.”

Once again the two of them sat in silence for a time, listening to the incessant chatter of the birds and the whisper of the warm breeze. Lucrezia stared down at the ground before finally looking up and letting her eyes inspect Peppi more closely.

“You're a mess,” she decided. “You look pale.”

Peppi rubbed his unshaven chin and ran his hand back across his tousled hair. “I feel pale,” he replied with a shrug.

“Have you been eating?”

“Not much,” Peppi admitted. “Till now I haven't had much of an appetite. Lately all I do is sleep.”

“I was like that after I lost Francesco,” said Lucrezia. “All I wanted to do was sleep all the time so that I wouldn't feel anything. No matter how much I stayed in bed, though, I never felt rested. I was exhausted all the time.”

“I know what you mean,” Peppi nodded in agreement. “When I lost Anna it was like that for me. Everything went dark. I couldn't feel anything, not the sun on my face or the cold wind. People would talk to me, but it was like I couldn't hear them. I just walked around all day in a fog, as if—”

“As if you were half-asleep,” Lucrezia said. “I know how that feels.”

“Does that feeling ever go away?” asked Peppi.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head sadly. “Not completely. It's always there inside you, especially when you're alone and it's quiet. That's why I work the way I do, because it's the only thing that makes me forget it for a while.”

Peppi let out a little laugh. “I tried that too,” he said. “It worked for a little while, but then I ended up flat on my back in bed for a week. The night it hit me, I thought I was dying.”

“Something like that once happened to me too,” said Lucrezia. “It came over me in the middle of the night. I thought my life was over.”

“Did it frighten you?”

“No,” she replied. “The thought of it was almost a relief. I didn't want to die, but I didn't care if I lived either.” She turned and looked off into the distance once more. “I still don't,” she added softly.

“Well it scared me,” said Peppi. “Until that moment, I didn't care if I lived or died either. But as I sat there on the bed with my heart pounding and my head spinning, I suddenly realized that I was terrified, that I wasn't ready to die yet. When it passed, my body went limp like a piece of linguine that's been in the water too long. But, as exhausted as I was, I somehow felt better.” He paused to see if she was listening to him. “Anyway,” he said, “I don't know what God wants from me, but I know he doesn't want to see me above the clouds, at least not yet.”

“Maybe he intends for you to go in the other direction,” said Lucrezia, the first hint of a mischievous smile curling the corners of her mouth.

“I hadn't thought of that possibility,” chuckled Peppi, “but I suppose you have a point. I'll have to think about that one.” With that he stood and walked over to the garden to inspect the flower beds The weeds were starting to grow again and the flowers were wilted a bit from not being watered regularly.

“These gardens need work,” he said.

“They miss you,” said Lucrezia. “When do you think you'll feel up to spending time with them again?”

Peppi turned to go. “Soon,” he said with a mischievous smile of his own, “but first I have a window to fix.”

 

Just as Peppi had predicted, a tremendous thunderstorm ripped through the valley that afternoon. Great towering thunderheads rolled through the skies like giant bowling balls. The mountains echoed with their booming as they hurled crackling bolts of lightning that darted across the clouds in jagged, haphazard lines. When the rain arrived it came down in tremendous windswept torrents that lashed the trees and slammed against the houses. It seemed that all of nature was convulsed in fury.

Peppi stood at his window and looked out. A thrill of exhilaration surged through his body as he watched the dazzling spectacle unfold before him. The rain whipped through the window and the air was thick with the electric smell of the lightning. Peppi opened his arms wide and breathed deep, letting his body absorb all the energy nature would give him. He closed his eyes and let the bracing slap of the raindrops splash against his face, washing clean the pain and the sorrow and the tears. Deep within, in some way that he could not explain, he was being renewed. Peppi smiled, for in that very moment he realized that it was still good to be alive.