The Obsession and the Fury

by Nancy Barone Wythe

  Alex knew exactly what he needed today. Sugar, pasta, salt, meat, rice, fresh vegetables, fruit, home-made soap, candles and paraffin. And a pair of stockings. He noticed Rea was the only bare-legged woman on the island.

  He was wondering how he was going to see her again when he spotted her, wearing a different dress but of the same kind of flowery print as the day before. His box of groceries on his shoulder, he slowly followed her away from the piazza, through narrow backstreet's that winded their way up the craggy hill.

  Every now and then she turned to look at him over her shoulder, aware he was on her heels, and quickened her pace. Because she was afraid of him? Or because she wanted to get him home as soon as possible, in the privacy of her own house? Alex’s blood began to rush. Hell, he was after all a guy.

  The naughty thought quickened his pulse, and the curve of her bottom became more and more enticing with every step she took. He noticed the slender calves and ankles, the narrow waist and straight shoulders. He wondered whether all they said about her was true. Did she sell her body, that marvelous siren’s body, for food?

  The thought of other men atop her had somewhat cooled his spirits and he found he was lagging behind, as if almost repelled now by a possible encounter. With one last look, she stopped and glanced at him before turning around the last bend. They were now on the goat path leading past the shack and his house.

  Alex blinked as she quickly pulled open and closed her front door shut in his face.

  It was the shack he had passed with the fisherman. The shack where there was nothing but trouble.

  Alex stood, stupefied as he took in the corrugated roof covered in loose pantiles. Don Raffaele was right about one thing. She was poor. He was certain that it rained in there and a good gust of wind would blow it down.

  Taking a deep breath, Alex squared his shoulders and knocked on the door.

  A moment later it opened a cinch, the sunlight knifing across her face.

  He wasn’t prepared for her shotgun eyes and now he felt like an idiot standing before her like a peddler with a box full of wares. He cleared his throat and smiled.

  “Buongiorno, Signorina Rea,” he said in his wobbly Italian. “My name is Alex Ford. Antonio said he’s very sorry and asked me to bring this to you.”

  Rea watched him warily for a moment, and then opened the door wide to survey the box as Alex finally got a good close up. She was not only beautiful. She was young. Too young to live like a prostitute.

  She took a step closer and saw the stockings, and suddenly let out a shrill scream, startling him as in one swift movement she flung the box out of his hands and into the dust at his feet.

  He backed away, wide-eyed as she snatched the items up one by one and threw them at him and the juniper bushes behind him, each swing accompanied by a pained, animal-like scream.

  Alex stared at her in shock, ducking as she lunged a bag of sugar at him.

  “Ahhh!” he groaned, covering his nose, his eyes wide in astonishment.

  She threatened him with another parcel when he said, “I’m going, I’m going!”

  She stood panting, watching him go as large tears ran down her face.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Alex wiped the blood from his caked nose with a cloth in the tin washbasin in the bedroom. She was a maniac! No wonder everybody hated her! She could have killed him! Her eyes alone conveyed her hatred, and the language was unbelievable. She seemed possessed by the devil, spewing out all sorts of obscenities, the chords in her neck sticking out. He had never seen anything like it. Back home the ladies were sweet and smiling. This one was a demon from hell. He was lucky he didn’t get close enough for her to scratch him, for he was sure she’d have gouged his eyes out.

  Why had she reacted like that? All he wanted was to be nice. Give her a hand, show her not everyone on the island hated her. Now he knew why.

  She had lost it when she saw the stockings. And then he understood his mistake. He had told her Antonio sent them. Judging by the way he looked at her, Antonio must have approached her for her favors. Was he a customer of hers? If so, why refuse her credit? And then he remembered Donna Vincenzina’s gnarled hands shooing her away. Of course. The wife was jealous and Antonio made sure he was above suspicion.

  Alex had to set the record straight. He didn’t want to make things worse between Rea and her fellow islanders. God knew she was in enough trouble as it was. Here women didn’t work like back home, but depended on their husbands for survival. Rea had no husband, and apparently no friends. Even the priest seemed to enjoy telling Alex about Rea. She was totally alone, if not even a man of God was willing to give her a hand.

  * * * *

  When Rea opened the door he lifted the bouquet of flowers he had picked along the path, and the same odd feeling from the day before overwhelmed him.

  Her eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened when she saw his nose.

  “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he heard himself say in his best Italian. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It was not Antonio who sent you the groceries; they were from me.” And with that, he gave her the flowers and a bar of chocolate he had brought from the States, knowing there was no such thing in Sicily. Alex walked away down the dusty hill, wishing he had had an excuse to stay longer. She was extremely different, and befriending her was not going to be easy.

  She watched him in silence, and then whistled. A short, curt whistle, as if calling her dog.

  Alex turned in surprise. She stood on the threshold, stock still, and even from this distance, her eyes burned though him. She nodded imperceptibly and he found himself going back uphill.

  The dirt- floored shack contained two chairs, a table and several large basins full of water lined up against the wall. Next to the largest was a stand that held a ceramic bowl containing a large gray clump that Alex recognized as home-made soap. Above it was a tarnished mirror and a threadbare linen towel. In the corner there was a fire burning and a large iron tripod with a black pot simmering on top. In the opposite corner was a makeshift bed with a straw-filled, lumpy mattress and a coarse wool blanket. By a tiny window at the back the black and blue flowered dress she had been wearing yesterday hung to dry. The shack was spotless. But Alex had never seen such poverty in his whole life.

  Rea pulled out a chair for him and moved about the room as he watched. She dipped a small cloth into one of the basins and wrung it. She bent to him and placed the cool cloth on his nose. As she did so, a pendant swung out from between her breasts, dangling before his eyes. It was a gold cross. He had never thought of her as a Christian. She didn’t go to church, Don Raffaele had intimated. Why would she, just to get scoffed at by the women and leered at by the men?

  He stood still as she dabbed at his nose as he looked up at her. Rea’s skin was flawless, fresh and elastic, with a tiny beauty mark above her lip. Her dark hair hung heavily down to her waist, and was tied back with a red ribbon. Her lashes were extremely long and thick, and her body smelled like the sea on a windy day. Alex swallowed, his throbbing nose forgotten.

  She wet and wrung the cloth once more and left it on his nose for him to hold. She turned away and opened a tiny flap and extracted some onions, potatoes and tomatoes which she began to peel in silence, ignoring Alex completely.

  When she lifted her gaze from the potatoes, he was once again mesmerized by the depths of her eyes that went beyond beauty, beyond intensity. They told a story of dejection and bitterness.

  His eyes dropped to her slim hands and long fingers, then to her feet. She walked barefoot around the room. Her shoes, cast off and left neatly in the corner, were squeaky clean, but torn. Alex’s heart went out to her, and he became angry that a young girl should be left alone to live like this; without any chance of redemption. How could anyone abandon Rea to her own resources? And then again there was Don Raffaele’s sardonic answer. Womanhood. Rea’s beauty was beyond any other woman’s. Her natural elegance and stance were worthy of Hollywood actresses back home. If DeMille had
lain his eyes on her he would have had the most beautiful Delilah in the world, and without warning he was flushed with anger, a sense of injustice that transcended the laws of nature. She was society’s scapegoat.

  Rea laid out two bowls, a flask of red wine and half a loaf of bread. Before he knew it she was dishing up noodles in a thick vegetable soup. Where had she found this food? A man had provided it, surely? Alex’s stomach closed and he couldn’t eat a bite.

  “Mangia,” she ordered, as if sensing his reluctance, and he lifted his eyes to her, but she avoided his gaze, busily tearing up bits of bread for her soup. Alex bent his head and began to spoon the food into his mouth. It was delicious. He glanced at her a few times, but she continued to ignore him, staring ahead of her as if she were on her own. As she always had been. Rea believed she needed no one. Perhaps she was right.

  At the end of their meal Rea laid the chocolate bar on the table for them.

  “It’s for you, Rea,” Alex said, directing it toward her.

  She shot him an insecure glance and unwrapped the bar gingerly. She stared at it, then at him. Alex broke off a small chunk and she took it from his palm, then to her mouth. Oh, for his camera to catch the look on her face as she put the morsel on her tongue! She ran her dark tongue over her lips and he swallowed hard, looking away.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” he said, trying to break the spell, and she smiled back and nodded. Perhaps she did need someone after all. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one, he thought, opening his heart to a possibility.

  CHAPTER SIX

  That night Alex lay in his bed with his hands tucked under his head and listened to the sea crashing against the rocks below. Was Rea asleep, or furiously pacing her floor, licking her wounds? Or was there a man with her? Did she have a different man every night? Or maybe she had visitors even during the day? Alex remembered the fisherman pausing before her door. Was he also a customer? And was she passionate, or did she just lie there and let them get on with it? Were they old men or young? Was she in love with one of them?

  The memories of her mouth full of chocolate were driving him crazy. The way those white teeth bit into the bar, the way her lips moved and her throat shifted as she swallowed and smiled, taking another bite.

  At three a.m. he gave up sleep as a bad idea and went outside. He sat on the veranda, looking out into the empty night, but his mind was in turmoil, his heart beating wildly. Her hut was only a few minutes away. Before he knew what he was doing, he crept down the path to the clearing, careful not to make any noise, and reached her door. In the faint glow of a sliver of a moon he stepped back, into the juniper bush, and waited, his hands in his pockets.

  He was still for so long that a hedge hog came out from under a nearby bush without noticing him. Alex watched as it nibbled at something on the ground, possibly the juniper berries. He wondered what they tasted like, and if the hedgehog was happy with them, or if it simply made do with what it had. Did it have any thoughts? Any feelings? Or was it pure instinct, just made for copulation and reproduction?

  It had been months since Alex had had a woman. Beverly. He had been married to her for three years until he came back from the war and found she was in sweet company. In their own bed. He divorced her immediately. But had he really suffered? Bev had always been a bit flaky, although he had never actually expected her to go that far. Why had she done it? She wasn’t with the guy anymore, so Alex figured it certainly hadn’t been love. He wondered how many men had known Rea, and thought what a shame it was. So young. What kind of a future did she have?

  Before he knew what was happening he heard the lock in her door grind open and the sound of the old blinds, the cassina, being pushed out. Although he was standing perfectly still his body froze. What if she saw him? She would think he was a customer; how was he going to get himself out of that one?

  But if Rea had seen him she paid no attention to him. She stretched her body up to the skies and began pacing back and forth between the cluster of bushes where he stood and her front door. As he wondered what to do, she began to sob quietly.

  All he had to do was reach out his hand and he would be touching her. All he had to do was curl his fingers around her wrist and pull her to him to console her. She suddenly stopped and stiffened, and Alex held his breath. She turned in his direction and jumped. He wanted to go, but stood stock still, unable to retreat, unable to advance. She stared at him, and in the feeble light he studied the contour of her jaw-line and throat that plunged down into her neckline. She was indeed a beauty, like none he had ever set eyes on before. He turned to go, but she grabbed his hand, indicating he should sit down on the stoop.

  Alex looked at her, unsure whether he had misunderstood, and in the end sat down. She disappeared into the hut and returned with a small bottle and two tiny glasses. As he watched in stunned silence, she poured a dark liquid and handed it to him. He watched her at length, her own eyes studying him. He took a tentative sip and made a face. She giggled, and Alex watched her in wonder as she threw back her head and took a long sip. Alex imitated her and smacked his lips. Strong, but not bad. It tasted earthy, but also very sweet. They sat in companionable silence as Alex asked himself the million questions he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

  Everyone seemed to know everything about her, yet she was such a mystery. Where had she really come from? Why had her parents left her there? He was more than aware of her sexual pull on men, particularly on himself. Tonight she smelled like lemon blossoms, the zagara that flowered outside his quarters and even in the dark he remembered the smooth texture of her skin.

  If he was hoping for her to start talking to him he would have as long wait. Some communicative skills! He drained the glass and she didn’t offer him any more, so he stood up and whispered, “Buono. Grazie.” Very good. Thank you.

  She watched him without answering as the night grew darker and darker, it seemed to him, because if first he could make out her face, now he could barely distinguish her figure. He dipped his head and when she didn’t answer, he headed for the path. What a strange woman. She had the manners of a nanny-goat. Well, so much for getting to know the anti-Christ.

  As he began his descent down the path, he heard her murmur something.

  He stopped and turned. “Scusa?”

  “Bacche di ginepro,” she whispered.

  Bacche di ginepro. Juniper berries. Juniper hooch. Inebriating.

  On the way back to his own house, Alex thought about her and the strange encounter.

  * * * *

  The next day Alex rose early to finish his cleaning. Later he would go down to the town square to see if he could book a fishing trip with the men. He was going to dedicate an entire chapter to Panarea’s fisherman and needed to do the research.

  As Alex wiped the sand that the breeze had brought in from the beach, he heard the front door open and close. Throwing the cloth over his shoulder, he went into the front room and started. Standing by the window was Rea in person.

  “Buongiorno, Rea,” he breathed with a smile, but she didn’t answer. Her black, shiny eyes nailed him to the spot as she studied him leisurely but guardedly, her eyes roaming over his body as if weighing him.

  They stood opposite each other, watching the other warily, watching the other watch, and suddenly Alex felt his pulse racing like the night before, and his face grow hot.

  She stepped forward with purpose, as if to hit him, and before he knew what she was doing, she slipped out of her dress. She only wore a pair of shabby but brilliantly white panties of thick cotton. The sight of her bare breasts made him gasp. Never had he seen such beauty. She knelt before him and started unbuttoning his trousers, and his body immediately reacted to her fingers near him.

  God, how he wanted to draw Rea to him and kiss those rosy tips! Just this once! How he wanted to push her back against the cot and take her! With one touch he could guide her there. He knew she would tilt her head back and let him, and he would bury himself deep inside her, over and over unt
il this hungered frenzy died down. Overnight, she had become an obsession.

  Before he could stop himself, he shook his head. “No, Rea,” he whispered, breathless.

  His fingers held her wrists, pulling her up to him, as his eyes burned into hers. Rea looked up at him innocently, as if she had no idea how wrong this was. Of course, to her it was survival. How many times had she done this in exchange for food ? The anger came unexpected, flashing through him like a tidal wave, and he wanted to kill all the men that had taken advantage of her innocence. She was so young. Too young. And too dangerous for him. But he would not be like all the other men.

  Alex removed her hands gently, clasping them in his, feeling his stomach jittery. Her mouth was open and moist, beckoning to him. His eyes never left her face as he did his trousers up again and moved away.

  “The food is free, Rea. You don’t have to do this. Not anymore.”

  With a swift movement, she yanked him to her by his shirt front, her eyes searching his. Alex held his breath, beads of sweat popping onto his head. He was doing his best to behave. If she didn’t stop now he would throw her over his shoulder and God help them both.

  He straightened, putting distance between their bodies. When he returned her stare with no more than a curious look, she stepped back, pulled the cloth down from his shoulder, and began to wipe the table under the window as Alex watched in surprise. She was determined to pay him back for some reason.

  “No, Rea, that’s okay.” He put his hand on hers to stop her and she whirled around, her chin tilted upwards in defiance, that fierce light back in them again.

  He sighed and lifted his hands in resignation. Rea stared him down and finally turned her back on him to polish the table behind her. Alex watched for a moment, then returned to the living room.

  They worked all afternoon in silence in separate rooms. When he paused he could hear her breath coming in quick short gasps as she toiled. It excited him beyond belief.