Travels Through Love and Time

by Christine Hall Volkoff

  “Christina, wake up!”

  “What?” Wide awake by now, I feigned sleepiness.

  “Come on, come have breakfast with us … we have plans!”

  I sat up and Tomaso introduced himself. His smile was disarming and contagious. He walked out of the room. I got up and joined them in the patio. Francesca greeted me and handed me an already buttered piece of toast. They seemed to be going out of their way to pay attention to me.

  My guess was they realized they had forgotten to close the door last night, and they felt they owed me something for disrupting my sleep.

  The plan was that Tomaso was going to go water skiing, and would I please join them? Had I ever water skied? No, I hadn’t … ”Today is a good day to start”, said Tomaso. He was so energetic and engaging, I had to forget my anger as I escorted them to the little harbor. Francesca walked ahead, luminous and stunning. Tomaso looked like a Greek God, and I was walking with them, being part of them, on my way to spending the day with them.

  And what a day it was!

  The boat was waiting for us at the harbor. It was a sleek wonder of mahogany and chrome, a Riva speedboat, bobbing by the wharf, with skis and ropes sticking out at the stern. The captain, Mr. Vernet, helped us on board and pointed to the well-stocked bar in the back. Tomaso recommended a light Pastis for me, saying it would take the edge off my first water skiing attempt. The day was gorgeous. Not a cloud in the sky, and the Mediterranean looked like a lake of infinite blue. I declined the drink until later as I was feeling quite inebriated already. We exited the harbor and the boat rose up as it picked up speed toward Notre Dame.

  Tomaso held me for my first attempt from the beach, and I managed to get up on the skis. It was exhilarating to be gliding on water in the frothy wake, looking all around me while Francesca was waving from the boat. I got up by myself on the second round and off we went into deeper waters, on a large circle off the coast. My favorite part was letting myself sink standing upright all the way when the boat slowed down far from the shore into the dark blue. After I climbed back on the boat, Francesca wrapped me up in a warm, dark green towel as Tomaso jumped into the water holding the rope, ready to take his turn with the mono ski.

  There I was, finally sipping my Pastis. I remember looking at my foot resting on the chrome and rubber step on the side of the boat, the sky, the misty coast beyond, the wake, Francesca’s smiling face, and the walls of water with rainbows kicked off by Tomaso. I will remember this always, I said to myself. This is how real people live, I thought. Maybe this is even how my parents lived when I was not around.

  At night, the three of us went to dinner at the Langoustier. We had melon and Tomaso showed me how much more glamorous it was to eat melon with salt. This is how people eat it in Rome, he said. We had grilled “loup” with fennel. We had wine. We talked about many things I had never talked about with adults, or even with anyone. I told them I had a crush on Bambi. After I had spent some time enlightening them on his name and nickname, they started giving me advice on how to “score” Bambi.

  “Wrap yourself up with cellophane and wait for him in his room,” said Francesca.

  “Cover yourself up with whipped cream and do the Dance of the Seven Veils,” said Tomaso.

  I was laughing so hard, I had tears in my eyes.

  “Well, he doesn’t know what he’s missing,” said Francesca, lifting her glass.

  After dinner, we got back into the boat and Mr. Vernet took us back to Plage d’Argent under the moonlight. We had to jump off the boat into the water as it was too shallow for the Riva to go any further. We waved goodbye and splashed around as we ran toward the house.

  Running across the living room, we realized we had made a mess by dripping salt water all over the tiles. Tomaso and I volunteered to mop the floor. “Buona Notte, everyone!” Francesca said goodnight cheerfully and went into the bedroom. After we were done drying the floor, Tomaso kissed me goodnight on both cheeks and joined her.

  Once in my bed, I listened into the night. Now that they were my friends, I was hoping I would hear them again making love; hear them or see them do something to give me some clue as to what was really going on. I knew the facts of life of course, but I could not fathom what was so powerful that those who did it could lose control of their voices and their movements, as if caught in a current stronger than their will and their conscious beings. I listened and listened over the crickets, heard some cats meowing, night birds shrieking and rustling in the leaves. Eventually, exhausted by what had to have been the best day of my life, I fell sound asleep.

  Day Four

  Waking up, I found a little piece of paper on the pillow next to my head. I opened it and read:

  Ciao Christina!

  Good luck with the little deer

  See you soon I hope!

  Your Tomasino.

  I suddenly remembered Tomaso had had to leave early on the morning ferry …. I folded the note, and put it away in a little cigar box I kept hidden in a drawer.

  Today was the 14th of July, Bastille Day, a celebration in all of France. We usually did not have fireworks on or near the island but some people took the boat to Hyères to watch them.

  This July 14th looked like it was going to be a work day for both Francesca and me.

  She was already on the phone talking in an agitated way in Italian by the time I was up and about. She saw me and smiled at me with a little wave of her hand. When she looked at me, it was as if the world was coming together, as if the last piece of the puzzle had just fallen in. I would suddenly be tall, tan and fearless. I waved back and grabbed my bike. I had an appointment with the tutor at Ondine’s house.

  We worked for a while, we had sandwiches for lunch, and I actually did better in math this time.

  Afterwards, we went to Notre Dame for a swim with the boys. Everything around me had changed. I used to be visiting the beach, now I secretly owned it. After all, this was where I had gone water skiing the day before, where I had sped across the water in a mahogany speed boat with ice cubes clinking in my glass of Pastis.

  Even Bambi, “the little deer”, had changed. I still enjoyed looking at him, but I was also chuckling to myself, thinking about the cellophane, the whipped cream and the Dance of the Seven Veils. My confidence had also increased. I was less in awe of the new chrome zippo, and less interested in counting the number of times he spoke to me or looked at me with any expression other than irritation.

  As a matter of fact, I am the one who felt irritation. His wisecracks about Francesca were beginning to get on my nerves.

  “You don’t know what you're talking about!”

  I was sitting behind him, looking at his back and the blond curls in the back of his head. I threw some sand at him.

  “Oh, because you do, don’t you? What do you know that we don’t? Eh?”

  He turned to me with his most devilish smile. I would rather have died on the spot than shared anything I knew from the time I had spent with Francesca.

  “Nothing. I just know she’s not a dyke, that’s all!”

  And on we went…

  That night, Francesca decided she would invite Simone to have dinner with us, to thank her for taking such good care of us. Francesca cooked some home-made spaghetti and I went to the bakery to buy a special cake, rum “baba”, Simone’s favorite and mine as well. We had a great time. Francesca had a way of drawing people out, and I had seldom seen Simone smile and laugh as she did that night.

  Then it was time to go to the July 14th Ball on the village square. We could already hear the music from the terrace. Some local band with electric guitars and accordions was playing 'Johnny B. Good' and singing it in French, of course.

  Simone decided to pass on an evening of patriotic revelry, so Francesca and I walked down to the little square, all decorated with bright colored paper lanterns and flags.

  There were tables and chairs all around a makeshift dance floor. Couples and kids were dancing. Groups and families at the tables were
laughing and lifting their glasses of cheap champagne in toasts. Some of the little kids were lighting fireworks in the corner by the small church. Many of the sailors had come down from the fort, and a whole side of the square was painted over with their uniforms.

  Francesca was wearing a blue work shirt and jeans, and no make-up whatsoever. She looked tan, and younger than her thirty something years. She took in the scene, and smiled. Her presence was hard to ignore, and one of the sailors spotted her. He came over, and took off his hat.

  “Mrs. d’Alessi, I know you…”

  “You know me? And do I know you?”

  “No you don’t…yet … but will you do us the honor of joining us for a drink?”

  The sailor seemed so nice and so respectful, Francesca agreed to join them. I saw her disappear in a cheering sea of white and blue as I went over to join Ondine, Veronica, Bambi and Jean-Rémy with a smattering of parents, over in the far corner.

  “Looks like your friend is having a great time with the Navy”, said Bambi, obviously obsessed by Francesca.

  “Lay off her, will ya?”

  “My, aren’t we protective….”

  “Yes, I am.” I replied in a serious tone, leaving no room for banter.

  So he finally stopped, and we all started dancing in a circle. Veronica was the most graceful of us all, and it was always a joy to watch her dance with her long wavy black hair flowing like a Tahitian’s. Bambi was more into strange Mick Jagger style poses, executed in zombie like jerks, and I was more comfortable with his kind of choreography, so we danced like zombies together, until he finally had to laugh, pick me up in his arms, and twirl me around.

  “Christine! You’re almost cool, sometimes, you know that?!”

  That was the biggest compliment he had ever bestowed on me, and it made me extremely proud and happy. I looked around for Francesca, and I saw a bunch of flashbulbs going off.

  “What’s going on over there?”

  “Looks like that little guy from Nice-Matin has spotted your friend yakking it up with the sailors. That’ll make a nice front page, I’ll bet!” said Ondine…

  I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath. I don’t think Francesca was counting on this, and she was supposed to be incognito. I should have spotted the photographer and warned her, but I had not been paying attention. I looked over and Francesca was laughing with the sailors, and seemed to be having a great time.

  “I guess it’s OK with her”, I said … still a little worried.

  But I knew famous people were always torn between the fear of being recognized and the fear of being ignored or unknown. After a while Francesca got up, followed by the photographer from Nice-Matin and some tourist amateur photographers. She walked over to our table. I got up to greet her, and so did Bambi and Jean-Rémy.

  “Is everything OK?” I asked.

  She nodded yes without answering, and I proceeded to introduce her to my friends.

  The band was playing a French cover of the Rolling Stones' 'Honky Tonk Women', and Francesca said “Oh, I haven’t danced yet! Let’s dance!”

  We all got up to dance with her, and some of the sailors joined us as well. Bambi and I were honing our zombie dance, and soon he and I, Veronica and Francesca ended up as a wild foursome. Francesca was a good dancer, if a little subdued and controlled. I caught her looking at Veronica with a flash of admiration, and I suddenly was ashamed of the jealousy I was feeling.

  At some point, the flashbulbs got to be a little too much, and as the band started playing 'A Media Luz', a popular tango, Francesca took me aside on the way back to the table.

  “I need to go home, sweetie …”

  “I’m going with you!”

  Francesca turned around and as the flashes went off she graciously waved at the crowd, as if at some grand event.

  “Buona notte, everyone!”

  Revelers and sailors were waving back and saying goodnight. I did not want to leave Francesca alone, so I waved at my friends from afar, and we started walking home, leaving the crowd and the photographers behind.

  It was very dark and still warm. Myriads of stars were out, no moon yet, and we could hardly see.

  “Y todo a media luz…” Francesca was singing in Spanish “que es un brujo el amor” … then she hummed to herself for a little bit “que suave terciopelo, la media luz de amor … la la la”, and then was quiet all the way back. At some point, she took my hand, so I could guide her on the trail.

  We got back to the house safe and sound. We could still hear the music coming from the square. As we said goodnight, Francesca grabbed both my wrists and looked at me with those incredible blue eyes.

  “Christina, carina … I have a great idea for tomorrow. You just wait and see …”

  She looked excited. She kissed me on my right cheek and twirled away back to her room. I could hear her sing to herself “y todo a media luz crepusculo interior … la la la …”.

  I read my mystery book for a while before turning off the light, but my interest in who could possibly be the murderer had waned considerably since I had first taken it up …

  Day Five

  I could hear Simone’s voice in broken English behind the door as I was getting ready to come out for breakfast.

  “But, Mrs. Hall, doesn’t want Christine to go out on the water!”

  As I walked out, I realized they were actually discussing the possibility of Francesca going out on the Nostromo, my parents’ sailboat, and taking me with her. The Nostromo was small, less than 30 feet long, but it was a beautiful all teak and brass sloop with an inboard motor and a comfortable cabin with all the amenities.

  I used to love going out on the Nostromo with my parents when I was little. Then, my mother decided she hated the sea, and my father started using sailing excursions to attract young women. After my parents separated, I had a few occasions to go out on the boat with Felipe the Corsican man who was in charge of maintaining it, and with friends of my mother’s every now and then. My father had named it “Nostromo” after his favorite Joseph Conrad novel. It lived in the harbor and Felipe made sure it was clean, seaworthy, and always kept the brass tacks shiny as new.

  “She knows I know how to handle a sailboat,” says Francesca. “Do you know where we can reach her?”

  Simone didn’t know, but she added that if Mr. Felipe agreed, it would be fine with her to take the Nostromo out. I think she was getting tired of always policing things on behalf of my absent mother.

  As I was finishing breakfast, Francesca talked to Felipe in Italian for quite a while. She was smiling and joking, it looked like it was all set.

  “Felipe, un minuto per favore … ”she said. She turned to me. “Do you know where the ‘big bag’ is for the boat?”

  I did indeed, and she instructed me to go and get it. The big duffel bag is where we kept all necessary items for an overnight on board Nostromo: sheets, blankets, pillows, some pots and pans. Overnight?! We were going to stay overnight? I could hardly contain my excitement. I had not stayed overnight on Nostromo since I was about five years old!

  Felipe was coming over to help us with the big bag and with some groceries, and we were packing essentials for overnight, including my mystery book, of course. I could not help but bounce and skip on the road as we walked to the harbor with Felipe. Francesca looked ready, wearing jeans torn at the knees, and a striped sailor shirt. She was discussing the idiosyncrasies of the boat with Felipe.

  “Christina, Felipe says you can handle working the jib. Is this true?”

  “Yes, sure, I’ve done it before … ”

  I had done it under close supervision from Felipe who knew the sea inside and out and who told me everything step by step, but there was no way I was going to say anything to impede Francesca’s incredible plans.

  On the boat, Felipe partly unfurled the main sail, pulled the jib from the hold to get it ready and hooked it up. Then he helped us open the duffel, get out the sheets and make the two little bunks in the main cabin. Fina
lly, he pulled out the plank, Francesca started the engine, waved at him, and we were off.

  I was nervous, as I had not been sailing for a long time. It looked like a perfect day, though, with calm seas and a soft breeze, ideal for apprentice sailors.

  Once we passed the jetty, it was time to sail. I helped Francesca hoist the main sail and then proceeded to do the same with the jib. But my movements were awkward and I felt at all times like I was going to fall and make a fool of myself. The shackles were rusty with salt, and nothing seemed to come easily. Fortunately, Francesca’s plan was to go to the Southern side of the island, where little rocky coves were not reachable by land. This put the breeze at our back, and I didn’t have too much work to do after all. We did one clumsy port tack, brought down the sails and used the motor to pick the best cove. We dropped anchor. There were very few other boats around. I recognized Bambi’s mother and a friend in a converted fishing boat.

  Francesca took off her jeans and her shirt, down to a simple two piece black bathing suit. She was slender and strong, with skin the color of light rosewood. I tried not to stare at her, but I noticed she wore a thin gold chain around her waist. She plunged head first into the green water without hesitation. I poked around in the cabin for a while, found my snorkeling gear and my fish gun, but decided I did not feel like killing anything today. I dropped the rope ladder from the stern to make sure we could get back on, and then jumped from the bow and swam around with Francesca. She was a smooth, easy swimmer. When she came up from diving, her hair and face would glisten with liquid sunlight, in a tribute to her natural beauty. In the water, she was all fluidity and elegance. I felt privileged, but also intimidated to be out there almost alone with her.

  We spent the day swimming and lying in the sun, until the light began to change and all the other boats had left for the day.

  Francesca decided we had to watch the sunset together, drinks in hand. I went below deck to dry up and put on some clothes, and she made Pastis and water for both of us. Coming back up, the scenery was breathtaking. The rocks by the cove had taken the color of blood, and the sun was surrounded by pink clouds.