Stella Mia

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  A gift? He all but knows his son and I were coming back from a secret rendezvous, and he has a gift for me?

  “Grazie, signore.” I pull apart the folds of tissue paper and take out a traditional Sicilian folk costume in stunning hues of red, brown, and gold. The costume is gorgeous. I remember seeing photographs of my grandmother when she was younger. She wore a costume that looked very similar to this one.

  “A few of the guests have been filling me in and have told me of your love of folk songs. I thought the costume would be perfect, not to mention the tourists love anything in relation to Sicilian culture.”

  “You want her to dress up like a puppet!” Carlo’s voice booms behind Signore Conti. His eyes are roiling with venom. “Lei non è una marionetta!”

  “Don’t be silly, Carlo. I know she is not a marionette. Do you see strings attached to the back of this costume? Look at what an elaborate costume this is. Such intricate stitching and embroidery! She will look like one of the gypsies in town who wear Sicilian costumes. It’s perfect since she reads tarot cards. People appreciate the authentic experience.”

  “I know what you are doing, Papá. I will not have it.” Carlo storms over to me and tries to take the costume out of my hands, but I won’t let it go.

  “Carlo, it’s all right. I do not mind wearing the costume. Your father is right. It is quite beautiful.” I try pleading with Carlo through my eyes, but to no avail.

  “We don’t need to parade Sarina to attract the tourists. She is already bringing in a large audience. People come to hear her sing and not because she is wearing a costume that heralds to the peasant days of Sicily. I know you don’t want to disobey my father, Sarina, but you do not need to wear this costume.”

  “Carlo, you are forgetting your place. I am the owner of Villa Carlotta, and, until I am dead, you and my staff will take orders from me. And people are not just coming to hear Sarina sing. They are also coming to hear their fortunes told. While the gowns I asked her to purchase are lovely, she does not look quite right in such glamorous dresses when she is reading the tarot cards. I did not think of it when I asked you to buy those gowns, Sarina. And like I said, this costume is especially perfect for when she sings her folk songs.”

  “I will wear the costume, Signore Conti. Thank you. I will go try it on now.” I walk to my room before Carlo can try taking the costume from me once again. I hear something smash. Looking over my shoulder, I see a decanter of liquor in pieces by Signore Conti’s feet.

  “This is not over, Papá!” Carlo screams at his father before storming out.

  “He’s been under added stress with his responsibilities here as well as overseeing the construction of the new hotel in Enna. His mood will pass in no time.” Signore Conti gives a slight snicker as he says this to Gaetano, who is cleaning up the mess Carlo made.

  I turn around and continue to my room. Once inside, I sob uncontrollably. Signore Conti was making a point by buying me this costume and insisting I wear it. He was showing Carlo and me that he rules here, and he was reminding us that I am not on their level.

  Wiping my tears away, I put on the costume. I did mean it when I said it was beautiful. But I cannot help feeling ridiculous wearing it now that I know Carlo thinks I will look like una marionetta. Well, he did not exactly say that. He felt more that his father was using me as his instrument, as his puppet to lure tourists and guests to the hotel. But I cannot help feeling that Carlo was also trying to pull my strings in insisting that I not wear the costume rather than letting me handle the situation with his father on my own.

  These past few weeks have been a fairy tale. But fairy tales are not real. Carlo and I have been living in a dream. I don’t know what I was thinking allowing myself to fall in love with a rich man’s son.

  14

  Furia dell’ Etna

  ETNA’S FURY

  August 20, 1969

  Mount Etna has been erupting for the past five days. The tourists cannot believe their good fortune at being in Taormina right when the volcano is erupting and can talk of little else. I, on the other hand, feel it is a bad omen of sorts. Ever since I have begun reading the tarot, I am becoming more superstitious and relying increasingly on my intuition. I also cannot help but notice the irony, for it isn’t just Mount Etna who has been exhibiting her fury. Ever since the night Signore Conti asked me to wear the Sicilian folk costume and I agreed, Carlo has been furious. He and his father barely speak to each other when they are in the same room. And even when Signore Conti isn’t looking, Carlo has not given me his encouraging smiles. He must be upset with me for wearing the costume. But he knows I need this job.

  Signore Conti stated this morning that he would not need to go to Enna until the end of September. The construction plans on the new hotel finally seem to be going smoothly. He made this announcement to the hotel staff in the morning when he called an impromptu meeting. He also said he was calling the meeting to remind staff of his rules, one of which was that there could not be any fraternizing among the hotel workers. When he said this, he looked directly at me, and then he let his eyes travel over to Carlo before returning his gaze to me. I swallowed hard and lowered my head.

  After I eat my midday meal, I notice Signore Conti drive off in his car. Ever since he’s returned from Enna, he rarely leaves the hotel. And when Carlo and I are in the same room, Signore Conti makes certain not to leave us alone.

  I need some fresh air and decide to go out into the hotel’s courtyard. Walking around, I admire the beautiful flowers and plants that have been planted with such care. My thoughts wander to my father’s land in the country. I miss picking my herbs and preparing my homemade remedies. If Signore Conti were to discover that I also have a passion for herbal remedies, he’d think I was a witch in addition to being a gypsy.

  “Sarina, I was looking for you.” Carlo walks over to me.

  “Your father left a little while ago, but he might be back any minute.”

  “I know. He is driving to Messina to pick up a few hotel supplies he can’t find here in Taormina. He won’t be back anytime soon. Don’t worry.”

  “Carlo, I’m sorry that you’re upset with me for going along with your father’s plan of wearing the costume, but you have to understand I cannot lose this job.”

  “You think I am upset with you?”

  “You’ve barely looked at me, Carlo, since that night.”

  “That’s because he is constantly around. I can’t take this anymore. At night, I can’t sleep. I miss holding you in my arms and spending our mornings and afternoons together.”

  “We need to be patient. And now is not the right time for you to talk to your father about me.”

  “I don’t know, Sarina. I’m beginning to think you might be right. I was foolish to think that I could reason with that stubborn mule. After what happened with the costume and his making a point to remind me that he is in charge here, I’ve been thinking it’s time I forge my own way. All my life, I was brought up to believe that the hotel would be my future. I never questioned it. While I do love working here, I cannot continue doing so when my father allows me little input as to the management operations. I am a grown man now. But he forgets that fact.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Someday, I would like to start my own hotel. I’m still waiting for all of the money that my father promised I would receive when I turned eighteen. It’s been four years now, but he keeps making excuses as to why I can’t have my inheritance yet. Even though I’m twenty-two years old, my father treats me at times like I’m twelve. I’ve been thinking maybe I can get a job managing one of the hotels on the Aeolian Islands.”

  “I see.” My voice is barely audible. This is what he has come to tell me. He is leaving. Reason has finally sunken in, and he knows we can’t be together.

  “In fact, I placed a few calls yesterday. I’m friends with a hotel owner on the island of Lipari, and he needs a manager. If I take the job, I can start as soon as I want.”

&
nbsp; I muster up the courage to say, “That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you, Carlo. Has your father given you his blessing?”

  “He doesn’t know yet, and I don’t think I will tell him until I’m in Lipari. It will come to blows between us if I get into another argument with him. And surely the news of my abandoning him to help another hotel owner get rich will just infuriate him even more.”

  I glance at my watch. “I’m sorry, Carlo, but I need to go rehearse with Gaetano. I’m sure I will see you before you leave.” I walk by him, but he grabs my arm.

  “Sarina, you haven’t let me finish. I want you to come with me.”

  Tears fill my eyes. He still wants me. He wasn’t planning on abandoning me.

  “You do?”

  “Of course. Has all good sense left your head? First you think I was upset with you over that stupid costume, and now you think I was going to start my new life without you?” Carlo’s eyes are wide-open, and a hint of a smile dances along his lips.

  “Carlo, I don’t know. What would I do there? It was so hard for me finding this job at your father’s hotel, and I’m so blessed to be singing. Never in my wildest fantasies did I think I would be making money to sing. I’m not sure if I can give this all up.”

  “But you can give me up?” Carlo’s voice sounds pained.

  “I don’t want to give you up, but I don’t see how this will work out.”

  “Sarina, you forget that you have me. I will provide for you. You do not need to work.”

  “I know it is common for husbands to provide for their wives, but we’re not married. Besides, I have come to love being able to provide for myself and not depend on anyone. In my father’s home, I was dependent on him. Now I finally have my freedom.”

  “And you would still have your freedom with me, Sarina. And who’s to say you couldn’t find work as a singer at a hotel in Lipari? You are talented. And you also have your tarot cards. But again, you could live like a queen and never work if you wanted to. You could be my queen.” Carlo takes my hand and holds it to his heart.

  I’m torn. I want nothing more than to be with Carlo. It is impossible for me to imagine living without him. And in that instant, I know what my decision will be.

  “Are you sure about all of this?”

  “Cento per cento!” Carlo laughs and picks me up, spinning me around.

  “You haven’t even heard my answer yet!” I giggle.

  “I can see it in your face. It’s yes!”

  Carlo kisses me, then says, “We’ll leave in the middle of the night. I will come get you around four in the morning. We’ll have to wait at the dock until the ferries begin operating in the morning, but we have to leave that early if we hope to elude my father. You’ve made me so happy, Sarina. And wait until you see Lipari! I will also take you to the other Aeolian Islands in our spare time. You will not regret this. I promise!”

  Carlo hugs me. Though I am happy we will be together, free of his father’s watchful glare, I’m also scared. But right now my heart is fully in control, and I can’t leave the man I love.

  It’s five o’clock in the evening. In eleven hours, Carlo and I will be leaving Villa Carlotta for our new life in Lipari. I cannot believe in just the span of two months, I will be running away once again. While I can see Carlo’s rationale for waiting to tell his father that he’s moving to Lipari, I can’t help also feeling it’s a mistake.

  I’m seated at one of the tables in the restaurant, looking over my song list for tonight’s performance—my final one at the Villa Carlotta. Though I am happy that I will be with Carlo, I’m also sad that I will no longer be singing at the hotel. Contrary to what Carlo thinks, I hold little hope that I’ll be able to secure work as a singer in Lipari.

  Men’s voices reach my ears. I look over to the French doors that lead out into the courtyard. I see the back of Signore Conti. He’s waving his hands in an animated fashion as he talks to someone else. I can’t see who he’s speaking to, but soon I hear another man’s voice. There is something familiar about the voice.

  I begin warming up my voice. Gaetano had a doctor’s appointment today, so I’m rehearsing alone. I’m so absorbed in my singing that I don’t notice the French doors open until I hear a man shout my name.

  “Sarina!”

  Shivers run throughout my body as I suddenly realize where I’ve heard that man’s voice before. I look up and am face-to-face with my father. It can’t be. How did he find me?

  “You worthless, thankless child! You have made your mother so ill with worry, leaving the way you did. And your younger brothers and sisters have not stopped crying since you left! This is how you repay me for the kindness I showed you over the years? We thought you were dead. I was just about ready to give up searching any longer for you.”

  I’m too dumbstruck to say anything. At the mention of my mother and siblings, tears stream down my face.

  “Sarina, I’m sorry, but you must go with your father. I had no idea you had run away from home.” Signore Conti looks at me grimly. I want to say, “How can you have known I ran away if you never asked me anything about myself?”

  “I am sorry for any trouble she has caused you, Signore Conti. I am not a man of much means or else I would pay you for your trouble and for feeding my daughter.”

  Signore Conti holds up his hand. “There is no need for that. Sarina was working while here. I do not give handouts.”

  “Working?” Papá looks at me, thinking the worst.

  “She was singing for our restaurant’s patrons.”

  Thankfully, Signore Conti omits that I was reading tarot cards. But I’m sure learning of my singing is just as bad for my father.

  Papá walks over. When he reaches me, he lifts my arm, forcing me to stand. I try shrugging my arm free, but his grip is too strong.

  “I have a life here, Papá. People treat me with kindness. Mama did not tell you that I sent her money a couple of weeks ago? I could help you and the family with the money I make here.”

  “Money? What money? Either you are lying or your mother is keeping secrets from me.”

  I suddenly realize my error, for now my father will beat my mother for hiding money from him.

  “Sarina, please do not make this situation any more difficult than it already is. You belong to your father. I cannot continue to employ you against his wishes,” Signore Conti says.

  So that is it. I am nothing more than my father’s property even though I have been living independently for weeks now and making my own living. Even though I’ve earned the respect of all those who come hear me sing.

  “Let me just get my belongings, Papá.”

  “I am coming with you in case you get any ideas. You made a fool of me once before. I will never let you out of my sight again.” Papá keeps his painful hold on my arm.

  “That won’t be necessary, signore. I will have one of our maids accompany her.” Signore Conti motions to Grazia, who was mopping the floor behind the bar but has been fixed in place staring at the scene before her. My cheeks burn with shame. She hurries over. Papá seems reluctant, but finally releases my arm. I head to my room as Grazia follows me. Neither of us says a word.

  Once in my room, I take out the large embroidered bag I bought from a street vendor not long after coming to Taormina. I pack the few dresses I own but decide to leave behind the fancy gowns Signore Conti had me buy when I first got the job at the Villa Carlotta. I almost leave behind the Sicilian folk costume, but for some reason I decide to throw it in my bag. I also take my tarot cards even though I know that if my father finds them he will think I’ve surrendered to Satan’s ways. He’s always said fortune-telling is evil. Tears flow freely down my face as I pack.

  Grazia whispers, “Mi dispiace, Sarina. Mi dispiace.”

  But her apologies do little to console me as my mind begins to flash through all the wonderful places I’ve visited since arriving in Taormina. And Carlo! I will never see him again.

  It is around midnight. When Pap�
� and I arrived at our house a few hours earlier, all the lights were off. No one came to welcome me back. Not my mother or my siblings. I didn’t blame them, however. For my father gave me the worst beating he’s ever given me. I wanted to scream, but my pride refused. He took away my freedom. I wouldn’t allow him to also take my dignity. But my silence seemed to enrage him more. Once he was done beating me, he tied me to the tree outside. Although he had sworn earlier he would never let me out of his sight, he knew I wouldn’t be able to free myself from the ropes tied around my body.

  Just when I think I can no longer take the pain from my battered body, I hear my mother’s soft whispers. “Mama è qui. Mama è qui. Mother is here. Mother is here.”

  At first, I think I’m imagining hearing her voice. I’m too exhausted to even open my eyes to see if it’s really her. But then I feel a wet towel pressed against my wounds. She rubs something on my cuts and bruises. The smell of herbs and oils reaches my nose, and I realize she is using my homemade healing salve.

  “Mama, perdonami. Please forgive me for leaving you, Mama.” I cry.

  “Mia figlia. Non c’è nulla da perdonare. There is nothing for me to forgive, my daughter. I knew you could not stay here any longer after what happened to poor Tina.” My mother strokes my hair back and tucks it behind my ears. She picks up the washcloth and presses it to my forehead once again. “Dormi. Sleep now. Get some rest.”

  But at the mention of my beloved cat Tina, I sob even harder. Suddenly, the weight of all that I have had to endure over the past few months comes bearing down on me—my father’s beatings growing more severe, abandoning Tina, running away from home, struggling to find work to support myself, worrying about Mama, Carlotta, Enzo, and Pietro.

  “Mama, please believe me when I tell you that I have thought about you and the children every day since I ran away. I have felt so guilty for leaving and for finally being free of Papá.”