95
I was frightened, and I felt distressed. Carmen? Carmen had done a thing like that to me?
The thrilling phase of success ended at that moment. In a few seconds the guilt at having neglected Imma was added to the fear that by legal means everything would be taken away from me, joy, prestige, money. I was ashamed of myself, of my aspirations. I said to Lila that I wanted to talk to Carmen right away, she advised me against it. But I had the impression that she knew more than what she had said and I went to look for Carmen anyway.
First I went to the gas pump, but she wasn’t there. Roberto was embarrassed in my presence. He was silent about the lawsuit, he said that his wife had gone with the children to Giugliano, to some relatives, and would be there for a while. I left him standing there and went to their house to see if he had told me the truth. But Carmen either really had gone to Giugliano or wouldn’t open the door to me. It was very hot. I walked for a while to calm myself, then I looked for Antonio, I was sure he would know something. I thought it would be hard to track him down, he was always out. But his wife told me that he had gone to the barber and I would find him there. I asked him if he had heard talk of legal actions against me, and instead of answering he began to complain about the school, he said that the teachers were annoyed with his children, they complained that they spoke in German or in dialect, but meanwhile they didn’t teach them Italian. Then out of the blue he almost whispered:
“Let me take this moment to say goodbye.”
“Where are you going.”
“I’m going back to Germany.”
“When?”
“I don’t yet know.”
“Why are you saying goodbye now?”
“You’re never here, we hardly see each other.”
“It’s you who never come to see me.”
“You don’t come to see me, either.”
“Why are you going?”
“My family isn’t happy here.”
“Is it Michele who’s sending you away?”
“He commands and I obey.”
“So it’s he who doesn’t want you in the neighborhood anymore.”
He looked at his hands, he examined them carefully.
“Every so often my nervous breakdown returns,” he said, and he began to talk to me about his mother, Melina, who wasn’t right in the head.
“You’ll leave her to Ada?”
“I’ll take her with me,” he muttered. “Ada already has too many troubles. And I have the same constitution, I want to keep her in sight to see what I’m going to become.”
“She’s always lived here, she’ll suffer in Germany.”
“One suffers everywhere. You want some advice?”
I understood from the way he looked at me that he had decided to get to the point.
“Let’s hear it.”
“You get out of here, too.”
“Why?”
“Because Lina believes that the two of you are invincible but it’s not true. And I can’t help you any longer.”
“Help us in what?”
He shook his head unhappily.
“The Solaras are furious. Did you see how people voted here in the neighborhood?”
“No.”
“It turned out that they no longer control the votes they used to control.”
“So?”
“Lina has managed to shift a lot of them to the Communists.”
“And what do I have to do with it?”
“Marcello and Michele see Lina behind everything, especially behind you. There is a lawsuit, and Carmen’s lawyers are their lawyers.”
96
I went home, I didn’t look for Lila. I assumed that she knew all about the elections, about the votes, about the Solaras, enraged, who were waiting in ambush behind Carmen. She told me things a little at a time, for her own ends. Instead I called the publishing house, I told the editor in chief about the lawsuit and what Antonio had reported to me. For now it’s only a rumor, I said, nothing certain, but I’m worried. He tried to reassure me, he promised that he would ask the legal department to investigate and as soon as he found out anything he would telephone me. He concluded: Why are you so agitated, this is good for the book. Not for me, I thought, I’ve been wrong about everything, I shouldn’t have returned here to live.
Days passed, I didn’t hear from the publisher, but the notification of the lawsuit arrived at my house like a stab. I read it and was speechless. Carmen demanded that the editor and I withdraw the book from circulation, plus enormous damages for having tarnished the memory of her mother, Giuseppina. I had never seen a document that summed up in itself, in the letterhead, in the quality of the writing, in the decorative stamps and notarized seals, the power of the law. I discovered that what had never made an impression on me as an adolescent, even as a young woman, now terrified me. This time I hurried to see Lila. When I told her what it was about she started teasing me:
“You wanted the law, the law has arrived.”
“What should I do?”
“Make a scene.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell the newspapers what’s happening to you.”
“You’re crazy. Antonio said that behind Carmen are the Solaras’ lawyers, and don’t say you don’t know.”
“Of course I know.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you see how nervous you are? But you don’t have to worry. You’re afraid of the law and the Solaras are afraid of your book.”
“I’m afraid that with all the money they have they can ruin me.”
“But it’s precisely their money you have to go for. Write. The more you write about their disgusting affairs the more you ruin their business.”
I was depressed. Lila thought this? This was her project? Only then did I understand clearly that she ascribed to me the power that as children we had ascribed to the author of Little Women. That was why she had wanted me to return to the neighborhood at all costs? I left without saying anything. I went home, I called the publisher again. I hoped that he was exerting himself in some way, I wanted news that would calm me, but I didn’t reach him. The next day he called me. He announced gaily that in the Corriere della Sera there was an article by him — yes, by his hand — in which he gave an account of the lawsuit. Go and buy it, he said, and let me know what you think.
97
I went to the newsstand more anxious than ever. There again was the photograph of me with Tina, this time in black-and-white. The lawsuit was announced in the headline; it was considered an attempt to muzzle one of the very few courageous writers et cetera, et cetera. The article didn’t name the neighborhood, it didn’t allude to the Solaras. Skillfully, it set the episode within a conflict that was taking place everywhere, “between the medieval remnants that are keeping this country from modernizing and the unstoppable advance, even in the South, of political and cultural renewal.” It was a short piece, but it defended effectively, especially in the conclusion, the rights of literature, separating them from what were called “very sad local disputes.”
I was relieved, I had the impression of being well protected. I telephoned, I praised the article, then I went to show the paper to Lila. I expected her to be be excited. That was what it seemed to me she wanted: a deployment of the power that she ascribed to me. Instead she said coolly: