‘But Stella is kind.’
‘She’s an exception, Jacopo! And not much of one at that. Stella is the daughter of prosperous farmers. She’s remained here by choice and will stay as long as she wants, but she’s not forced to. It’s different! Inès, on the other hand, grew up in an orphanage, not knowing who her parents are.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Jacopo. Each of us is the result of a unique past and of our upbringing, and Inès has had the worst upbringing.’
‘So you’re saying she’s not evil?’
‘She’s just ignorant … and maybe she has a weaker character than Stella or me. Who knows? If I were to tell you, for example, that Bambolina might have many selfish or stubborn qualities if she’d been brought up differently, would you be surprised?’
‘Oh, not at all! I never thought about it, but it’s true. Mela is stronger, although she doesn’t appear to be.’
‘You see? And Prando? Let’s look at the truth a little, Jacopo. What would you say about a Prando who was left free to take charge and give orders?’
‘Oh, dear God!’
‘I myself am neither all good nor all bad. I’m good when I can be and bad when I have to defend myself or defend you, or defend Crispina from you … You yourself were “evil” to Crispina, to use that dreadful, irrevocable word.’
‘It’s true.’
‘Well then? It happens, but we can make amends.’
‘I’ll apologize to her.’
‘Apologizing or saying you’re sorry is fine with grown-ups, but with a child you have to act, do something that will make her forget the wrong.’
‘You know what I’ll do tomorrow with the money you gave me for my lessons? I’ll buy her a present. What would a little girl like, Mama?’
‘Don’t think about the fact that she’s a little girl; think about what you would like.’
‘Tomorrow I’ll ask ’Ntoni, he’s very good at these things. Tomorrow? Today! Look, Mama, it’s dawn! How can that be? And I’m not sleepy … how come I’m not sleepy?’
‘Because you’re upset, Jacopo. It was the same for me whenever I was distressed: sleep vanished.’
‘Did I suffer at other times, Mama? I don’t remember.’
‘Oh, yes. Remember when Bambù had diphtheria? You were little, but you were aware of everything and you were always crying.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s right. But where was Prando then?’
‘Here.’
‘So he suffered too?’
‘No, Prando is different. We’re all different; that’s what complicates things. Prando believed Antonio’s lie … a doctor’s lie so as not to scare all of you. But you saw through it and there was no way to soothe you.’
‘Look how light it’s getting! Shall we go outside and see the sun come up?’
‘Of course, but let’s hurry because it doesn’t take long for the sun to rise out of the water.’
‘Let’s see if it rises first or if we get to the shore before it.’
76
As we run along the sand bleached by dawn’s frosty dew, a clear glass rises before us like a pale unbroken wall.
‘Hurry, Mama! If we run we can make it!’
‘Run, Jacopo, run. It’s good for you.’
‘How do you escape fate, Mimmo?’
‘By letting your thoughts outrun its designs without ever looking back! You have to be quick, until you leave it behind you, that jackrabbit of a destiny!’
‘We made it, Mama! It’s all white. You can’t see a thing; even the head of the Prophet has disappeared. Or is it me who doesn’t see it? Don’t tell me I need to wear glasses, like Antonio says?’
‘No, Jacopo, I can’t see a thing either. How cold it is! Or am I just getting old? I hate old age almost as much as you hate glasses.’
‘Don’t be silly. Old age! It’s just that we didn’t get any sleep. But Jacopo is provident. Look.’
‘Oh, no! You just want to distract me so you’ll be the first to see the sun’s eye.’
‘Jacopo is provident … Stare at the horizon all you want, but raise your arms so I can slip this pullover on you.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m freezing to death!’
‘There … look at her: she won’t even turn around to thank me.’
‘Oh, no! I’m not falling for it. If I turn around you’ll see it first…’
‘There it is!’
‘You little devil! You did everything you could to distract me.’
‘Now what? Why are you hitting me, Mama?’
‘It’s obvious! You’ve been unsportsmanlike, and I’m giving you a spanking.’
‘And I’m stopping you, dear Mama. We’re past the time when you could spank me whenever you pleased. There we are: shoulders pinned to the ground. Now let’s see you move if you can … Do you surrender or not? Watch out! If you don’t surrender, I’ll stake you to this beach with some pegs and you’ll have to cry for help.’
There was no way I could move. Where had all that strength come from? Until only yesterday he would run panting behind me whenever we raced. And where did he develop that triumphant laugh that streaks his grey eyes with silver? Uncle Jacopo, in the photograph, barely smiled behind his spectacles. That shrill, unrestrained laugh, those dark curls, that silver gleam that spread from his eyes to his voice had come from Inès’s veins.
‘You have to say it three times!’
As we struggle, his distress subsides, but it soon returns and changes that laughter into an icy whisper:
‘Mama, I hate that woman and I know she’s evil … I’m so cold.’
‘Me too.’
‘Let’s go home. I’ll make you some nice hot milk.’
* * *
The hot milk, as it quickly eased the chill in my bones, made me aware of my complete exhaustion, both in my legs and in my head, after a night without sleep.
‘I can’t stay awake another minute, Jacopo. I’m dead on my feet! Help me go up; I swear those stairs seem like Mont Blanc to me!’
‘Just lean on me and we’ll scale it. Oh, Mama, either you’ve lost weight, or I’m still growing … how long do people keep growing, Mama?’
‘Until they die. Oh, please, Jacopo, close the shutters! I can’t stand any more light!’
‘Right away, Mama. Better now?’
‘What a wonderful invention the bed is, Jacopo!’
‘Can I lie down too?’
‘Yes, if you take off my shoes, I’ll let you.’
‘Such tiny buttons! It’s hard to unfasten them.’
‘It’s not enough that we have priests and philosophers; even shoemakers enjoy complicating things so as not to be outdone.’
‘You said we continue growing until we die?’
‘And maybe even afterwards.’
‘What do you mean, afterwards? The one thing Joyce and Andrea agree on is that afterwards there’s nothing.’
‘Oh, as far as that goes, so does our Antonio, a fine doctor and professor.’
‘An atheist…’
‘You said the magic word!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘An exclusive label, like those shoes with the tiny buttons. In fact, Joyce gave them to me…’
‘But you, Mama, aren’t you an atheist?’
‘Oh, Jacopo, why do you, too, want to put a label on me?’
‘Well, in order to understand each other, to use words correctly…’
‘Words are deceiving: as soon as you utter a word, it falls on you like the lid of a coffin. If you really want me to give you a word, it would be “agnostic”. Now that you’re older you know what it means, don’t you? Those continentals, no offence to anyone, possess all that certainty because they aren’t surrounded by the sea; they don’t realize that they, too, are an island encircled by space. Believe it or not, I have the feeling that they still haven’t understood Galileo Galilei, even though they see planes flying over their heads.’