Love Hurts

by Brenda Grate

  Anna’s eyes riveted on Mamma’s. Was that my father?

  Mamma saw Anna’s unspoken question. “Yes, it was him, but I still have to tell you that story. I will soon, I promise.” Mamma moved toward the terrace doors. “Let’s check in and find some food. I’m hungry.”

  Anna was happy to see that Mamma looked much better than she had before. As she couldn’t wait to begin exploring, she was eager to get settled. Before she could move to follow, though, Chris took her arm and pulled her back against him.

  “Let’s get our own room this time, shall we?” he whispered against her hair.

  His soft breath tickled Anna’s ear and she shivered. The anticipation began its slow crawl from her belly up to her throat. Her breath came faster and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Am I ready for the next step? I have to be sure because I’ll never hurt Chris again.

  “Okay,” she whispered back, her throat nearly choking the words off. She had to clear her throat to continue. “Hopefully Mamma won’t mind.”

  Chris gave her another squeeze, and she could feel that he too was anticipating that evening alone with her. “She won’t mind,” he said.

  Anna smiled to herself and stepped toward the doors. She glanced back at Chris and gave him a wide grin. Life is so much more exciting in Italy, she thought as she stepped inside.

  Chapter 29

  On the recommendation of their hotel concierge, they headed for a small ristorante not too far from where they were staying. The streets were narrow cobblestone and ran maze-like between massive stone buildings. The old-world charm was completed by the unearthly golden glow of the setting sun. Anna had heard about the light in Italy, but only now understood the power it had to fire the imagination. Everything looked gilded with a patina of not just age but history. The guidebook said that the word “storico” in Italian meant both story and history, a charming thought. The history of the place wasn’t for boring textbooks, but for a storyteller to tell through the ages. I wonder if I could tell stories like this one. I wouldn’t want these stories to ever be lost.

  Mamma and Chris were both quiet as she was. Chris held her hand tightly while he gazed at the scenery, Mamma walked quietly ahead of them, not even struggling with the steep climb of the street. Looks like she’s already found her ‘Italian legs’. She’d never seen towns like this one, with everything seeming to go straight up. She thought of medieval times when all the focus was on defense, especially in Italy with constant wars between neighboring city-states. She knew of no other country’s history that was so divided, only united as a nation in 1861.

  “I think this is it,” Mamma said as she stopped in front of a door with flowerpots set all around it and into the wall. The little ristorante had a menu outside advertising wonderful-sounding dishes. Anna’s stomach growled in anticipation. Chris turned to her with a grin.

  “We better get this one fed, Mamma, before she turns on us.”

  Anna smacked him. “You better watch out. You’re the first one I’ll start with.”

  His grin turned wicked. “I can’t wait.”

  Anna rolled her eyes and followed Mamma into the ristorante. “Crazy man,” she mumbled under her breath and let out a squeak when Chris pinched her butt.

  “What did you say?” Mamma asked.

  “Nothing,” Anna whispered, as the waitress approached them.

  The ristorante was not much bigger than a closet. There were three tables in the room they’d entered, with another six or so in the room to the right. There was a bar crammed into the room they stood in with a restroom beside it. The Italians took advantage of every little pocket of space. It must be why they could drive in such narrow streets without scraping their cars to bits, Anna thought.

  There were beautifully illustrated posters on the walls from each year of the annual festival held in Spoleto. There were flowers and wine bottles everywhere, yet it didn’t look cluttered. Cozy and welcoming were the words that came to mind.

  The smells that emanated from the little kitchen—where on earth did they find room for a kitchen?—made Anna’s stomach rumble again in anticipation. She ignored the snicker from Chris and asked Mamma, “What do you feel like eating?”

  “Pizza,” was her quick answer from behind the menu.

  “Pizza? You’re in Italy, the land of food from the gods and you’re having pizza?”

  Mamma dropped her menu and smiled at her daughter. “Have you ever had Italian pizza, Annabella?”

  “No. But isn’t pizza pizza?”

  At Mamma’s shocked expression, Anna had to assume that her reasoning was faulty.

  Mamma just shook her head and turned as the waitress approached. “For prima piatti, some pasta al pesto. For secundo, I’ll have a Margherita pizza, and so will my daughter,” she gestured at Anna.

  Chris wisely said he’d have a pizza, too, but with meat please.

  Mamma gave him a fond smile and ordered him a pizza al prosciutto crudo.

  “Mamma?” Anna asked. “Isn’t that a lot of food? Pasta and pizza? What is prima and secun … um, what did you call it?”

  “Secundo. Prima piatti is the first course, or first plate is how it’s translated. Secundo is the second. Traditionally Italians have pasta first and then the main course after.”

  Anna groaned.

  “Don’t worry,” Mamma laughed. “The amount of food they give you is much less than in North American restaurants. If you get too full, we’ll just have some grappa.”

  “That sounds interesting,” Chris said. “What’s grappa?”

  “It’s a digestivo. Helps to digest your food, especially if you eat too much.”

  “Oh, alcohol. Sounds good to me,” Chris said.

  Mamma smiled, seeming to relish her role as interpreter and guide. Her skin had taken on a glow that Anna had never seen before. It was as if her body had been missing the Italian air and was coming to life again. Anna studied her mother. Mamma fits here. This is where she belongs. I don’t think she even realized just how much she missed her homeland.

  The door opened and a little old couple walked in. Mamma was in the middle of telling Chris about the popular drinks of Italy when she froze mid-sentence and stared at the couple. Before Anna could react, Mamma seemed to realize she was being rude and dropped her gaze. It looked like she was trying to bring herself under control, but her breathing remained rapid.

  Anna put her hand over her mother’s and asked, “Who are they, Mamma?”

  The couple greeted the waitress and was escorted into the next room and out of Anna’s sight.

  “Mamma?” she asked again.

  “I think they are the couple who used to live down the road from us when I was a girl. I can’t be sure, but they look so familiar. They were in their thirties, so they’d have to be seventy now.”

  “They would have changed so much in forty years. How could you be sure it’s them?”

  “Some people age but keep their familiar features,” Chris said. “It’s possible.”

  “Well, then you have to speak to them,” Anna said.

  Mamma shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I just can’t. What if they know something?”

  “Exactly what we’re here for,” Anna insisted. “Please. If they’re who you think they are, they could at least have something for us to go on. I don’t think it’s coincidence that you saw them the first night we’re here.”

  Mamma sighed and wiped her mouth with her napkin. She took a sip of her wine and her hand trembled again. Anna almost wanted to forget the whole thing and take Mamma home. It was hard to see her so rattled. Mamma had been so steady and calm for Anna’s entire childhood. She’d been remote, yes, but never like this. It was hard for Anna to process.

  “Will you come with me?” Mamma asked.

  “Of course.”

  Anna stood and held out her hand. Mamma took it and together they walked into the next room.

  The little couple sat, engrossed in their menus, all the while talking a
mile-a-minute in Italian. The woman turned as Mamma and Anna approached. She stopped speaking, her gaze riveted on Mamma’s face.

  “Maria?” the woman asked. She looked like she’d seen someone rise from their grave and become mortal again. “Maria?” she said again and crossed herself.

  Anna wondered who Maria was. She looked up at her mother and saw tears on her cheeks. Mamma must know who Maria is.

  Mamma shook her head. “No, non Maria. Il mio nome è Catarina. Questa è la mia figlia, Anna.”

  “Catarina? Catarina di Rossi?”

  The man stared at Mamma.

  “Sí,” Mamma answered.

  Mamma turned to Anna. “These are my old neighbors, Sal and Bettina Clementi.”

  Anna shook their hands and smiled.

  Anna had followed most of what they were saying, but then the woman pushed out a chair and gestured for them to sit, while she unleashed a torrent of Italian. Her husband just watched with a small smile on his face. He must be used to her ways after so many years.

  She and Mamma spoke for a few minutes and soon both had tears running down their cheeks. The woman pulled Mamma close and kissed her on both cheeks numerous times. She kept saying, “Mamma mia, mamma mia, Catarina.” Anna found her adorable.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to speak to the couple, Anna excused herself to go back to Chris. She wanted to let him know that Mamma knew the couple, and that they would probably be able to help them find Mamma’s family.

  Chris stood and held out Anna’s chair as she approached the table. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek to thank him. After so many years of pulling out her own chair, she would never tire of his chivalry.

  The pasta had come, or the prima piatti, as Mamma had called it. It was every bit as delicious as described. Chris had already eaten most of his.

  “I couldn’t wait, sorry,” he said with a sheepish look.

  “It’s okay,” Anna said around a mouthful of the delicious food. “I can see why.”

  “So?” Chris asked. “I assume since you’re back on your own that Mamma was right about who they were.”

  “Yes. They looked like they’d seen a ghost, although it wasn’t Mamma who they thought they saw.”

  “Really? Who then?”

  “The woman called her Maria. I don’t know who that is.”

  “Maybe your grandmother?”

  “Could be,” Anna said. “Mamma never told me her name.”

  “They were happy to see her, though?”

  “Yes, thrilled, I think. I’m so glad for her. She fits here, don’t you think?”

  “Perfectly. You have a wonderful mother, Anna.”

  “I do, don’t I? Although I never used to think so.”

  “Well, truthfully she wasn’t very warm when I would come around in the old days. I just thought it was because she felt I was endangering her beloved daughter.” Chris took the last bite of pasta and closed his eyes with an expression of bliss. “I’m so glad the hotel recommended this place.”

  “Me too.” Anna looked up as Mamma entered the room. She looked happy, less nervous.

  “Well?” Anna and Chris asked together.

  “They haven’t changed a bit,” Mamma said. “They’re older, yes, but every bit as kind as ever.”

  “And did you find out anything?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “What?” Anna felt incredulous. “Why not?”

  “It would be rude, Annabella. We’re invited to their home for dinner two nights from now. I’ll ask then.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “I didn’t want to take up too much time from their dinner.”

  Anna suspected it was more than that, but she understood. Maybe Mamma wasn’t quite ready to find out the truth. Two more days would give her a little more time to acclimate.

  “Now, let’s eat this wonderful food,” Mamma said. She dismissed the conversation and Anna didn’t argue. She was happy to sit back and enjoy the delights of Italian cuisine.

  Chapter 30

  Catarina sat at the table among the people she should have grown up with and tried to keep a smile on her face. Mostly it was for Anna, her newly returned daughter, that she tried so hard. Anna wanted more than anything for their family to be reunited and for everyone to be happy again. Anna had an idealistic nature, and had since she was a tiny child. Catarina wondered if she’d gotten it from Federico, her father. He’d been idealistic, too, and an artist. Funny that Anna never became an artist with so many of them in her family. Instead she’d turned to words, which was, Catarina admitted to herself, a form of art. How she’d had so many dreams and plans for Anna. And yet children go their own way, as she had despite her Papà’s plans for her. She wondered if he’d be proud of her now.

  All these years, she was nearly an old woman herself now, and still she hoped to make her Papà proud. How strange people are, she thought as she passed the jug of wine to the lady beside her.

  Anna sat at the other end of the table, her young man beside her. He looked at her the way Federico had looked at the young Catarina. I threw it all away because of my mother.

  Catarina realized in that moment that she hadn’t been forced to throw it all away. It wasn’t because of her mother. I did it to myself. Mamma never made me do it. She hurt me, yes, but I hurt myself worse.

  Catarina stood from the table and asked Bettina where the toilet was. She left before her face could give her feelings away. Catarina stood over the small sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Ever since the day she ran into the Clementis two days before, she couldn’t stop thinking about how Bettina had called her Maria. Maria was her paternal grandmother’s name, Papà’s mother. She had lived with them for a time before passing away at about the age Catarina herself now was, so Bettina had spent many mornings having coffee with both Catarina’s mamma and nonna. Nonna had died young, probably of stomach cancer.

  Bettina knew Nonna’s face well, so it must have shocked her to see Catarina standing beside their table and looking for all the world just like Maria. It was a compliment, of course. Nonna was beautiful even as an older woman, but it reminded Catarina just how much she belonged to her family, no matter that she’d rejected them all, yes, even Papà, when she ran away to Canada at only eighteen. They hadn’t even known she was carrying Anna.

  It was all because of what Mamma did. No one even knows but me. It was the refrain she’d repeated over and over to herself throughout the years, and especially whenever she felt lonely or guilty because she’d left. She never even sent word to Papà to tell him she was okay. Guilt covered her like a sticky spider web. What Mamma did was inexcusable, but so was what I did to Papà.

  Blame. That was where it all stemmed from. Catarina knew that everyone could lay the blame on someone for the things that had happened to them, but doing so didn’t get them anywhere. In fact, it had even hindered her own growth and the relationship with her children. Anna and Jilly, bless them, had finally stopped blaming and come for a solution, and look where it had gotten them all. My own children are braver than I am, Catarina thought, watching as a tear rolled down her cheek.

  She lifted her chin and looked herself in the eye.

  “Catarina,” she said out loud, “you are going to take responsibility for your part in all this and let Mamma pay whatever price she has to pay. You are going to find Papà and apologize to him, even if only at his grave.”

  Catarina dropped her head and closed her eyes. “Please, Mother Mary,” she prayed to the saint she’d largely ignored for her adult life, “please let him still be alive. I need to see him.”

  As for her mother, Catarina had no idea how to pray. She decided she would leave that up to the Virgin and trust that She would know best. Catarina reached for the rosary that hadn’t hung around her neck since she was eighteen. She decided she needed to find one and soon. She’d rejected everything that had made up her foundation for long enough. It was time to get back to her roots.

  It’s no wonder
I’ve felt like I was drifting for most of my life. No wonder my daughters didn’t even know who I was. I didn’t even know who I’d become.

  Catarina grabbed at the tissue in a box on the counter and swiped at the leftover tears. She checked her makeup in the mirror and gave herself a stern stare. She again lifted her chin then left the bathroom.

  If Annabella and Jillian can be brave, so can I. After all, I’m their mother.

  Anna looked up at her with concern as Catarina came back into the garden. Catarina gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile and sat back down.