Stella Mia

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  “No. I want to finish telling you everything. I’m almost done.”

  “Take your time.”

  Sarina smiles. I wait for her to continue, but she keeps looking at me. My face reddens, and I look away.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m staring. It’s just that I still can’t believe you’re here and how beautiful you are. I mean I could tell you’d grown into a beautiful woman when I saw your wedding photo, but seeing you in person . . . It’s just . . .” Sarina doesn’t finish her sentence. She looks overcome with emotion, but she quickly regains her composure.

  “Where was I?” Sarina scratches her head as she tries to remember where she left off in her story.

  I can’t resist asking, “What about Carlo? Did you ever see him again?”

  A spark appears in her eyes.

  “Not long after I returned to Sicily, I went to see my friend Angela who owned a—”

  “Bread shop in Taormina. Yes, you wrote about her in the diary.”

  “Si. She was a dear friend to me. She passed away just last year. Well, I went to see Angela in Taormina to let her know I was back. I didn’t ask about Carlo, but she knew I was wondering if she’d heard anything about him. Naturally, when I went to Taormina, I looked for him on every street corner. I suppose if I had strolled by the Villa Carlotta and hidden behind a tree, I might’ve caught a glimpse of him in the hotel or on the grounds. But I wouldn’t have dared. Angela told me he did end up marrying Gemma, just as his father had wanted, about a year and a half after I left for America. Even though a few years had passed since I’d last seen him, hearing that he was married to another woman still hurt me so much. But I didn’t blame him. I was the one after all who had left him without an explanation and without saying good-bye.

  “Instead of managing the Villa Carlotta, he and Gemma had moved to Enna right after the wedding. Once the hotel his father was building there was completed, Carlo managed it. The locals said he left because he couldn’t stand to be around Signore Conti, and he knew if he stayed his father would try to control his life. But Angela thought Carlo also left because be couldn’t bear to be in Taormina with his memories of me. I didn’t know about that. I was certain he hated me for leaving him the way I did.” Sarina looks at me. I know she is wondering if I hated her all the years she was gone and if I still hate her now. She takes a sip of water and resumes her story.

  “So the years went by, and I continued to make records and tour Sicily. But our paths never crossed, even when I performed in Enna. I knew Carlo had to have heard about my fame, but I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t try to find me or come to any of my concerts. Though I had accepted he was no longer mine when I made the choice to walk out of his life, a small part of me always hoped to see him again. I would have been happy to even catch just one glimpse of him.

  “Five years ago I retired from singing. I began to think more about you—not that I had ever stopped. But I guess you can say I was more aware of how much time had slipped by and how I’d wasted so many years being apart from you. While I knew that at this late stage in your life, you didn’t need me anymore to care for you, I wanted to try and finally forge a relationship with my daughter. I was terrified. I didn’t know how you would receive me. I kept changing my mind about whether or not to go to America. Carlotta convinced me to make the difficult journey. I was going to book my airline tickets right after I called your father to let him know I was coming. As I was working up the nerve to get myself ready for whatever reaction Paolo might have on the phone, my doorbell rang. I ignored it since one of the maids always answers the door.

  “I dialed your father’s number, but got a busy signal and hung up. I waited and was about to dial again when the maid interrupted me. I looked up and almost fainted when I saw Carlo standing behind her. Though he was now in his early sixties, sixty-one to be precise, I immediately recognized him. His tender eyes were still the eyes of the kind, young man I had fallen in love with, and he still possessed that magnificent head of wavy hair. But it had all gone gray now.

  “We went to sit down on my terrace that faced the ocean. I wanted to make sure that none of my maids eavesdropped on our conversation. My heart wouldn’t stop racing, and I could barely look Carlo in the eyes though I felt his gaze on me throughout.

  “I waited patiently for him to begin speaking. While I had so many questions, I was afraid that he would finally unleash all of his anger on me. I was shaking so hard that I don’t think I would’ve been able to talk in that moment without betraying my anxiety.

  “He told me that he had married Gemma. I told him I already knew. He looked surprised, but didn’t ask me how I’d found out. He then said that Gemma had died two years earlier in a car accident. He had been tempted to try and find me a few months after Gemma had died, but then he had decided it would be best to let bygones be bygones. But he couldn’t stop thinking about me. In fact, he told me he had never stopped thinking about me from the time I left him.

  “I can’t tell you, Julia, how my heart sang when I heard him say that, but I was still waiting for him to get angry with me as I knew he would. He told me he knew his father had a hand in my leaving, but he was still hurt and mad that I let his father come between us. He had been busy with his grandmother’s funeral and all that needed to be taken care of in the wake of her death. But two weeks later, he had tried to find me. He took a guess and went to see if I had returned to Lipari, but no one had seen a woman who fit my description. Carlo then went to my parents’ house, thinking I had returned home. He waited until he saw my father leave for work, and then he approached my mother while she was hanging the laundry. My mother told him that though she had heard from me and I was fine, I hadn’t shared with her where I was out of fear that my father would intercept my letters and try to find me again.

  “I then told him how I couldn’t bear to return to Lipari without him and instead went to Salina, where I met Paolo and then married him and moved to America. I explained to him that my mother had known about my marriage and that I had gone to America, but that I had made her promise not to tell Carlo if he ever asked her about me. He asked me why I didn’t want him to know. I told him I couldn’t bear to hurt him any more than I had, and I knew he would be pained to know I had married another man. I also told him about you, Julia. I told him everything—how I left you to care for my ailing mother and provide for my siblings. I even told him how I had never gone back for you. I thought he would judge me and hate me for leaving my child. But all he said was how sorry he was that I had been through so much since we last saw each other.

  “Carlo then said that shortly after I left him, he remembered the tarot card reading I had given him, and he realized the cards had accurately predicted our fate—that we would be torn apart and a strong, authoritative figure, whom he now realized was his father, would be an obstacle. I couldn’t help laughing when Carlo told me this, for I had stopped reading tarot cards a long time ago and had given up believing in them. I had also stopped believing in fate, for I made every choice in my life—good and bad. I have no one to blame but myself for my mistakes.

  “Carlo told me I was always so hard on myself, and he could see that hadn’t changed over the years. He then told me that when he couldn’t find me in Lipari or Taormina, he became very distraught and went into a deep depression. Gemma visited him a lot after his grandmother died. Finally about a year and a half after I had left, he realized I wasn’t coming back, and he decided to marry Gemma. They’d known each other since they were children, and he knew she was a good woman. But he swore they never shared the same passion we had shared. He had thought of her more as a loyal companion.

  “In addition to the hotel he oversaw in Enna, he ended up opening another hotel after his father died. The hotel was in Lipari and was called Sirena.

  “ ‘Sirena’?” I asked him.

  “He said, “Si, ho chiamato dopo di te.’

  “I was so moved that he had named the hotel for me. I couldn’t stop the tea
rs that were rolling down my cheeks. Carlo had wanted to call the hotel Sarina, my actual name, but he couldn’t do that to Gemma. She never suspected the hotel’s name was a variation of Sarina, especially since the Straits of Messina are known for the sirene, or sirens, that were made famous by Homer’s Odyssey.

  “After hearing he had named his hotel for me, I didn’t hold back any longer. I told Carlo that many of my songs were about our love. He told me he knew, for when he learned of my fame, he had secretly bought and listened to all of my records. When Gemma was out, he would listen to them. He had even attended two of my concerts when I was in Enna, and once he had driven all the way to Agrigento just to see me perform. I asked him why he hadn’t come to talk to me after my concerts. He said his duty had been to his wife, and he couldn’t break his vow to her. He shouldn’t have even been going to my concerts. I told him he could have just said hello to me as an old friend. Nothing more had to happen between us. But Carlo told me he knew if he had come that close to me, he would have taken me in his arms and kissed me. And he would’ve never returned to Gemma.

  “He then said he needed to see me one last time before . . . His voice trailed off, and his face went absolutely ashen. I became alarmed and asked him if he was ill.”

  Sarina closes her eyes and shakes her head.

  “Would you like me to get you some more water?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Just remembering what he told me and how I felt when I heard it is still painful for me.” Sarina opens her eyes, blinking back tears.

  Swallowing hard, she clears her throat and says, “Carlo told me he had been diagnosed six months earlier with Alzheimer’s disease. He wanted to see me one last time before he lost all memory of me, and he wanted to tell me he had never stopped loving me.

  “At first, I didn’t believe it. I thought his doctor had made a mistake. Carlo was only sixty-one when he came to see me. He still seemed too young to have Alzheimer’s. When I expressed that I thought he had been misdiagnosed, he told me he had early-onset Alzheimer’s. Apparently, four percent of the population gets Alzheimer’s under the age of sixty-five, and even some people in their thirties and forties can get it. I was stunned.

  “We were both quiet for a moment, but then I stood up and went over to the bench Carlo was seated on. I sat next to him and placed my head on his chest as I wrapped my arms around his waist. I hugged him and told him I, too, had never stopped loving him. I apologized for hurting him and leaving him the way I did. I told him I had been a fool to listen to his father and let him convince me to leave. And I expressed how much I had hated myself for leaving without saying good-bye or giving Carlo an explanation. He said he realized I did that because I was afraid his father would disinherit him. But he wouldn’t have cared if that had happened. He would have been able to find work and provide for himself and me, just the way he had when we were living in Lipari. I told him I had been very insecure and had believed his father that Gemma would make a better wife.

  “Carlo lifted my chin so that our eyes met, and he said, ‘Sarina, you should have known that no other woman could ever make me as happy as you did.’

  “I cried so hard then. I cried for my foolish mistake . . . for all the years we’d lost . . . for what we could have had. He held me and waited patiently until I was all cried out. He then told me he didn’t expect anything from me now. He would go back to Lipari, where he’d been living since Gemma died. All he truly wanted was to see me one last time and let me know he’d always cared about me even though he had married another woman.”

  Sarina stops talking when we’re interrupted by what sounds like a heavy club hitting the floor. Carlotta holds the arm of an elderly man who is walking with a cane. They don’t pay us any notice as they make their way to the doors that lead to the beach. At first I think he is Carlotta’s husband. But this man seems too old to be her husband, and then I remember Sarina said Carlotta’s husband died a few years ago. My eyes then open wide as realization hits me. I look at Sarina.

  “Si. He is my Carlo.”

  I do the math in my head. Sarina had said Carlo was sixty-one when he came to see her, and that was five years ago. So he is sixty-six now. But this man looks as if he’s already in his early seventies. His movements are very slow and deliberate, and by the way Carlotta was assisting him, I gather that his Alzheimer’s has progressed quite a bit.

  “When Carlo told me that day that he just wanted to see me one last time, and he would not bother me again, I told him I wasn’t letting him go a second time. I wanted to spend the rest of my days with him—no matter how long that might be. Carlo told me he couldn’t let me make that sacrifice, and he said my life would become very difficult, taking care of someone with Alzheimer’s, especially when it advanced. But I told him he must not make the same mistake I had made. He must not walk away from true love like I had. So not long after, he came to stay with me. He had no one, Julia. Gemma had not been able to have children. He had been planning on going to a nursing home since he knew the time would come that he could not care for himself anymore. I refused to let that happen to him.

  “His Alzheimer’s has progressed quite rapidly in the past six months. It’s been very difficult watching the man you love disappear. He hasn’t lost all of his memories, but I know the day will come when he doesn’t recognize me anymore. I try to stimulate his memory as much as possible by reminding him of the days when we first fell in love and of the time we spent together in Taormina and the Aeolian Islands. I tell him these stories over and over.” Sarina’s gaze turns toward the beach. I look over and see she’s watching Carlo, who’s now sitting in a folding chair on the beach. Carlotta is positioning a beach umbrella over him. I look away. It is all so sad.

  “Carlotta has been an angel, helping me care for him. I don’t know what I would have done without her help these past few years.”

  “Yes, you are very lucky to have her.”

  “So that is my story, Julia. Now you know everything that has happened since I left you.”

  “I’m sorry about Carlo, Sarina.”

  Sarina flinches when she hears me call her by her first name. But she can’t expect me to start calling her mother as if nothing has ever happened.

  “Thank you, Julia. Has any of what I said helped you?” Sarina’s eyes look hopeful. I know she really wants to ask me if I’ve forgiven her. But I don’t know if I have, and even if I have, I’m not ready to tell her just yet.

  “I want to be honest with you, especially since you and my father kept so much from me all these years. I’m sorry if what I’m going to say will hurt, but I must be honest.”

  “Please, tell me the truth, Julia.”

  “I do feel bad about what you have been through and how things turned out with Carlo. But I can’t help feeling hurt that you chose him over me. You were going to come see me, but then when Carlo arrived on your doorstep, you changed your mind. You chose your old lover over your own child.”

  “I was still planning on coming to see you, Julia. But then the next day, coincidentally, I received a letter from your father, telling me you had gotten married. That was the letter that contained your wedding photo. I saw how happy you were, and I couldn’t help thinking that I was about to disrupt your peace and happiness by showing up after all these years. I realized my coming to see you was purely selfish because I wanted your forgiveness. But since I had chosen to stay away from you for all that time, I couldn’t just now reappear and wreak havoc for you. If I truly cared about you and your well-being, I would accept that I could not be part of your life anymore. Carlotta was angry with me and tried to change my mind, but I wouldn’t.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Julia. Of course, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want your forgiveness. I desperately do, but I know I have caused you so much pain. All I can hope for is that perhaps someday you might understand. When you get to be my age, Julia, you reflect over and over about your past and how you could have done th
ings differently. You have clarity that you didn’t have when you were younger. I realized just a few days ago that I have always run away when things got difficult. I ran away from my father; I ran away from Carlo; I ran from you and Paolo. So when Carlo reappeared in my life, I was through with running.

  “I will never forgive myself for leaving you, Julia, but you have to believe I did plan on returning someday. I know that is little consolation. But you have to believe I always loved you. I can see all the hurt I have caused you, Julia. Seeing how much pain you are in, I now know I made a mistake in thinking you were better off without me all those years. And I realize I should have listened to Carlotta and come to see you five years ago. But I can’t take back what I have done.”

  “Did you ever love my father?”

  Sarina looks surprised that I’ve asked her this question.

  “I did.”

  “But it was a different kind of love than what you share with Carlo.” I say this as a statement rather than a question for I know the answer.

  Sarina nods her head.

  “Carlo was my first love, and what is it they say? ‘You never forget your first love’? Well, that was true for me. I never forgot about him even when I was certain I would never see him again after I went to America. You read my diary, Julia. So you know how it was between Carlo and me. But I cared about your father. As I said earlier, he was a saint, and his kind heart endeared him to me. I wanted him to be happy, especially once I knew I wasn’t returning. I even told him in a letter a few years after I left that he could file for divorce. Naturally, I wouldn’t contest it, but for some reason he refused.” Sarina’s face looks sad before she says, “I suppose it’s because he always held hope I would return.”

  “I think that is the reason why Daddy didn’t file for divorce. And he never dated. I asked Aunt Donna when I was in my teens if there was anyone when I was a child. But she said there hadn’t been.”