Heaven and Earth

by Paolo Giordano

  “‘There’s always a lot of work,’ I said, ‘with weddings and all the rest.’

  “‘Nowadays that’s what people do, have lavish celebrations. Floriana and I arranged everything ourselves, right here. It certainly wasn’t a time when the groom went to have a manicure before the ceremony, if you get what I mean,’ he said, winking at me.

  “‘I have to talk to you,’ I said, my voice sounding harsher than I intended.

  “‘I’m here, Tommaso. I’m listening to you. We still have half an hour before we go to mass.’ I watched Floriana, her lips drawn in tightly.

  “‘I have to talk to you alone.’

  “Cesare stood up. ‘Of course. So let’s go to our place, shall we?’

  “We walked toward the holly oak, I a few steps behind. I had hoped he wouldn’t take me there, but I focused on what Bern said: none of the things Cesare had told us was true, his words were nothing but illusory games and conditioning. In the world, only we existed. I sat on the faded bench as if it were just another piece of wood.

  “‘Would you like us to pray together first?’

  “My head gave an uncontrolled nod. He began reciting Psalm 139 from memory, with his eyes half closed and the enfolding voice of one time: ‘“Lord, you have probed me, you know me, you know when I sit and when I stand, you understand my thoughts from afar, you observe my actions and my rest, all my ways are known to you.”’

  “The words of the psalm triggered an unexpected exaltation in me. I wasn’t prepared for it and I struggled to overcome it. For years I’d been ashamed to be the only one at the masseria impervious to the word of God, doubting my ability to feel it as deeply as my brothers. Often, sitting in the shade of the holly oak, I had expressed that uncertainty to Cesare. He had always accepted it with the same response: ‘There is no right way to pray, Tommaso, your desire is already your prayer.’

  “‘What is it that’s worrying you so much that it brings you here at this hour of the morning?’ he finally asked.

  “I took a breath, then I said, ‘I need some money.’

  “Cesare straightened his shoulders and arched his eyebrows. ‘I wasn’t expecting that. I admit it, I really wasn’t. I thought Nacci was paying you a salary. Isn’t it enough? I can talk to him if you like.’

  “‘I need six hundred thousand lire,’ I said. I don’t know why I picked that figure when half would have been enough. But the memory of my last conversation with Cesare, in that very spot, the day he’d sent me away, had suddenly come back to me. Puffing out his cheeks, he held his breath for a moment. ‘I really wasn’t expecting this,’ he repeated. ‘Have you gotten into some trouble maybe?’

  “‘That’s my business.’

  “In all those years I had never dared speak to him with that tone; I had never even dared to imagine it. But Cesare did not lose his composure.

  “‘You’re unpredictable, you boys,’ he said, ‘a mystery to me. Does our Bern have anything to do with it? He hasn’t been around for days. The older he gets, the less I understand him.’

  “Had I met his eyes at that point, he would have read the whole truth in mine. So I kept them stubbornly on a rock and a tuft of grass as I pronounced my threat clearly: ‘If you won’t give it to me, I will tell Floriana everything.’ There was a moment of silence, broken only by the call of a bird hidden in the foliage above us.

  “‘What will you tell Floriana, Tommaso?’ Cesare asked in a low voice.

  “‘You know what I’ll tell her.’

  “‘No. I don’t know.’

  “I took a deep breath. ‘About when you spied on Bern and Teresa in the reeds.’

  “Don’t look at him, I kept telling myself. Keep your eyes on that rock and the tuft of grass.

  “‘I feel so sorry for you, Tommaso.’

  “‘Six hundred thousand. I’ll come and get it Thursday evening.’

  “I was determined to get up right after I said it, but my leg muscles didn’t obey me. I sat there, just as I used to do, waiting for his absolution.

  “‘So you’re blackmailing me. This is what you have become.’

  “‘Thursday evening,’ I repeated, and finally I stood up.

  “I walked toward the motorbike without turning around. I struggled with the kickstand, flipping it clumsily, and made a half turn onto the dirt track. Only then did I look back at Cesare in the rearview mirror. He was still there, under the holly oak, wide-eyed with amazement. To me he seemed like merely a defeated man, just as Bern said. And yet, all the way back, the faster I went to get away from there, the harder the wind slapped my shame back in my face.

  “When I reached the Relais it was raining; it seemed dark as night in the middle of the day. I went into the bunkhouse and immediately noticed Corinne’s glass, the plastic bottle bottom, in the center of my bed. I picked it up, not understanding at first. The key to the cellar glinted inside it.

  “I went running out again. I raced through the reception hall, not caring about scuff marks on the marble floor. In the dressing room I opened Corinne’s locker: empty. Her Reebok duffel bag was gone, her uniform gone, her personal supply of candy gone. I strode into Nacci’s office without asking permission. He looked up at me quizzically. ‘Apparently someone went out without an umbrella,’ he said and chuckled.

  “‘Where’s Corinne?’

  “Nacci waved a hand dismissively. ‘Gone.’

  “‘What do you mean gone?’

  “‘She’s a junkie, I thought I told you that. There’s no hope for those like her. They never change.’

  “The drenched T-shirt stuck to my back made me shiver.

  “Nacci sighed. ‘She thought she’d take some of the bar earnings. At this point I wonder how many times she did it. But yesterday the shortfall was so considerable that it left no room for doubt.’

  “‘Did she tell you that?’

  “Nacci looked at me again with that puzzled expression: ‘Have you ever heard a junkie plead guilty? Though when I asked her she didn’t deny it. I told her she could return the money or leave immediately. She chose to leave, obviously.’

  “‘Corinne doesn’t use anymore,’ I said faintly.

  “But Nacci had turned back to the documents he was looking over. ‘What she does or doesn’t do is no longer my concern as of . . .’—he glanced at his wristwatch—‘two hours ago. Hiring her was a personal favor to her father. A little like in your case,’ he added, shoulders shaking as he chuckled to himself, as though he found the coincidence amusing. ‘Go dry off, now. We can’t transplant the viburnums with the soil all wet like this anyway. Or, better yet, no. Since you’re already soaked, the lawn should be sprayed with mosquito repellent. When there’s water, the bastards lay eggs.’

  “The storm passed on but continued to rumble in the distance. The first rays of sun that pierced through the clouds were scorching. The strap of the jerry can cut into my shoulder and the liquid sloshed from side to side, making me lose my balance. I sprayed every shrub, every flower, every blade of grass with the repellent. I didn’t even think about the microscopic massacre I was enacting. Is this what you have become? In the evening, in bed, I rubbed the rim of Corinne’s parting gift on my lips. At the end of that watery, messed-up day, I found myself thinking of her with a new longing.

  “In the week that followed, when I wasn’t working, I lay on the bed looking at the red tips of the apricot branches outside the window. I wondered if Cesare was spending those hours in prayer, invoking guidance, and whether I would really be able to tell Floriana what I had threatened to say. What words would I use? If the plan fails, I told myself, I’ll steal from Nacci again, and I’ll end up in prison, like my father. I gladly let those heroic fantasies overtake me, then I succumbed to nausea. But on Thursday I made the trip to the masseria with my heart strangely light. I left the motorbike at the iron bar across the dirt track and continued on fo
ot. The pears on the fruit tree had already changed color. It was sunset time, the hour that for years had made me think I could never live anywhere else.

  “When I knocked, Cesare’s voice invited me in. Once again I hoped to find him alone, and once again Floriana was sitting at the table with him. He told me to sit down and offered me some wine, which I refused. Floriana didn’t even say hello.

  “‘So you came back for the money,’ Cesare said. Then, when I didn’t answer, he added, ‘Am I right?’

  “‘Why don’t we go outside?’ I said. But he ignored my suggestion. ‘I can’t give you the money, Tommaso. I’m sorry. I spoke to Floriana, I told her everything. And I have to thank you, you know? Without your intercession I wouldn’t have had the strength; I would have gone on carrying the weight far too long. Shame provokes the worst in each of us.’

  “‘You’re just a greedy little bastard!’ Floriana burst out.

  “Cesare touched her arm to calm her. He closed his eyes and murmured something to redeem those words instantly. Then he said: ‘Now you too have the same opportunity, Tommaso. Tell us what happened. Maybe we can help you.’

  “But I couldn’t stay there any longer. I ran out of the room, then through the yard and down the dirt track. I climbed on the Atala and drove off.

  “At the Scalo I didn’t take any precautions to get to the tower. In there I found Bern and Violalibera asleep. They spent almost all their time like that, because staying down there made them sluggish. The lantern was on, maybe Nicola had brought new batteries. I yanked at Bern’s filthy T-shirt and he struggled to open his eyes.

  “‘Tommi,’ he said.

  “‘He won’t give us the money.’

  “His lips were parched, his breath rank. I felt his forehead. ‘You have a fever, Bern.’

  “‘It’s nothing. Help me get up. Today my back doesn’t want to obey me.’

  “Violalibera was still sleeping, lying on her side on top of the mattress.

  “‘Do you have some change for a couple of beers?’ Bern asked. ‘I could go for one. I’d like to go outside awhile.’

  “But we stayed in the tower for quite some time before deciding, speaking softly, or maybe we were silent.

  “It definitely wasn’t a short time, because as I was finally helping him stand up, his body burning with fever, Cesare appeared in the room. As if the shadows had produced him.

  “‘Bern,’ he said.

  “Bern tried to break away from me and almost collapsed on the ground. I held him up. ‘Why did you bring him here?’ he asked me, his voice full of sadness.

  “‘I didn’t bring him.’

  “‘Let me help you, Bern,’ Cesare said, and took a step toward us. He put his arms around my brother’s waist and Bern submitted to that embrace with such abandon that I thought he might have fainted.

  “‘Forgive me,’ Cesare whispered in his ear.

  “Yoan must have been lurking somewhere and must have followed me when I fled. Once at the Scalo, he’d called Cesare. And now there he was. Bern was sobbing against his chest.

  “There was no need to explain the presence of Violalibera, who had meanwhile awakened. Cesare did not ask questions; all he said to us was: ‘Come with me. I’ll take care of you.’ He bent over Violalibera and stroked her distraught face: ‘You too. Come.’

  “And so we followed him docilely, up the first set of steps and down the second. Through the nettles, he supported Bern on one side and Violalibera on the other. Before leaving the tower I stuck the money we’d scraped together into my pocket. We passed among the young people at the Scalo, some of whom greeted us.

  “We piled into the Ford, and Cesare drove to the masseria without saying a word. Or actually, he did say one thing, just a few words, addressed to Violalibera: ‘You’ll like it where we’re going.’

  “That’s when I thought: he already knows.

  “As if the plan were even more extensive than I’d thought, Nicola was waiting for us at the masseria along with Floriana. Only now does it occur to me that he himself could have been the one who told Cesare where to find us. Oddly enough, I had never considered that. If there was one person from whom Cesare could extract the truth, it was Nicola. Whatever the case, from the pergola Nicola gave me a pointed look, a look that I remember clearly.

  “Floriana phoned the doctor in Speziale to come and examine Violalibera, even at that hour, yes, right away. Bern, Nicola, and I left her in their care and slipped away from the house. We walked to the center of the olive grove and there the full brunt of Nicola’s panic exploded at me.

  “‘What did you tell him? What the hell were you thinking?’

  “‘He didn’t tell him anything,’ Bern answered for me. ‘As for Violalibera, he must have figured it out on his own.’

  “‘You have to keep me out of it, guys. Leave me out of it, please. I’ll give you whatever you want,’ Nicola begged us. His face was distorted by dread.

  “Bern ordered him to shut up and his tone was so firm that Nicola fell silent.

  “Then Bern added, ‘We have to decide which of us is the father. When the doctor comes he’ll want to know. Cesare and Floriana will also want to know who it is.’

  “‘Not me,’ Nicola whimpered.

  “Bern searched around for something. ‘Here’s what we’ll do,’ he said. ‘We’ll each pick up a stone, one of these. We’ll throw them toward those trees. Whoever throws it the shortest distance will declare himself the father.’

  “‘You’re completely out of your mind!’ Nicola shrieked.

  “‘If you have a better suggestion, I’m listening. No? I didn’t think so. Let’s find the stones then, and they must be roughly equal in size. Like this one.’

  “I found mine and rubbed a little soil off its surface with my thumb. ‘What if it isn’t true?’ I asked. ‘What if the one who loses isn’t really the father?’

  “‘The truth is dead,’ Bern replied impassively, ‘it’s a letter, a word, a material that I can use up.’

  “‘What if Violalibera doesn’t agree?’

  “‘She already agrees. But we have to swear an oath.’

  “‘What oath?’

  “‘Once the contest is decided, none of us will ever again speak of this moment, nor of the tower. We won’t talk about it with others and we won’t talk about it among ourselves. Ever again.’

  “‘All right,’ I said.

  “‘You both have to say it: until death.’

  “‘Until death,’ Nicola swore.

  “‘Until death,’ I too swore.

  “‘Nicola, you go first.’

  “Nicola expelled the air from his lungs, filled them again, arched his back, and hurled the stone, very high and very far; it landed beyond the third or fourth row of trees. It bounced dully once, then became invisible.

  “‘Now you, Tommaso. No, take this one.’ He put a stone in my hand that was different from mine, smoother.

  “‘It doesn’t count if you help him,’ Nicola protested, but he quickly fell silent. After all, he knew I wouldn’t be able to match his throw. When I saw my stone plummet a mere twenty yards away I wondered if the test might be a trap. I had always been the most inadequate in that type of contest. But I was also the one who had never rebelled against Bern’s decisions. For the first time since the afternoon I’d met him under the mulberry’s branches, I hoped against him.

  “I’m not sure if he did it on purpose. Whether it was because of his back, the fever. Or whether it was purely a blunder. I don’t know. And our oath would prevent me from asking him for the rest of our days.

  “Bern raised his hand over his head, and a sharp pang seemed to freeze him in that position; then his hand let go of the stone. It dropped just past the closest olive tree. We were silent, all three of us. We gaped at the spot, just as long ago we had gaped at the wooden cross that h
ad appeared on the hare’s grave.

  “Then Bern said: ‘I guess I’m it.’

  “When we returned to the masseria, he went over to Violalibera, who was staring at the empty plate in front of her. He put a hand on her shoulder, and though she did not react to the contact, that gesture was enough to make clear to Floriana and Cesare how things were, which of us bore the blame. Cesare placed a chair beside that of Violalibera, for Bern. Then he did what no one could have imagined. He left the house and returned a few moments later carrying a basin, the same one we once used to keep the melons cool. He filled it from the sink, then set it on the floor in front of Bern and Violalibera. He took off their sneakers and socks and placed their bare feet in the water.

  “‘What are you doing? They stink, you know!’ Violalibera giggled, but Cesare’s solemnity quickly silenced her.

  “He scrubbed their feet, one at a time, until they were clean. Their two pairs of feet side by side, as radiant as those of a bride and groom. Violalibera wriggled hers around in the basin, splashing a little. Then we all smiled. The tension dissolved like the dirt in the water. Once again there was someone to decide for us.

  “Then Cesare dried them off with a dish towel. He knelt for so long that when it came time to get up, he had to cling to the tabletop.

  “‘I know what you had in mind,’ he said, ‘but it was fear that generated those thoughts. Now they’re gone. This child will be born. Take each other’s hands. That’s right. Pray with me.’

  “The doctor arrived half an hour later. He examined Violalibera in our room and found her malnourished. He prescribed absolute bed rest and some medicines. The following day, Cesare and Bern would have to take her to a specialist for an ultrasound. Nicola and I were still there, in the kitchen, but already like a pair of spectators.