The House by the River

by Lena Manta

  “There’s no reason to be afraid, Anna. Everything will be fine.”

  Franco got up naked from the bed and lit a cigarette. Linda, who was still lying down, supported her head on one elbow and looked at him in surprise.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “I don’t recognize you tonight.”

  When Franco didn’t answer, the girl got up and went over to him. Her hands moved over his naked back. Then she hugged him and breathed in his smell.

  “Come back to bed,” she whispered. “We’ve left a conversation in the middle, I think . . .”

  “Linda, get dressed and leave!” Franco said abruptly. “I don’t feel like doing any more tonight.”

  “But other times we’ve made love all night,” she complained.

  “Tonight’s not like other times.”

  “Franco, what’s happening to you? Are you sick?”

  The man pulled away and went to stand by the window. Outside, Chicago was all lit up, but all he could see were her eyes. Three days had passed since that evening, and he couldn’t forget her. In an effort to think about something else, he’d invited Linda over for some company. He’d tried to drown his need for her in Linda’s perfumed body, but he only felt worse.

  “Maybe I’m sick,” he murmured, as if he was talking to himself.

  “I don’t understand,” Linda went on. Then her face brightened. “There’s a woman involved! Isn’t there, Franco?”

  She was hoping he’d deny it, but he just looked at her without any expression.

  “I think I told you to go!” he said suddenly.

  “Just imagine! Franco Giotto is thinking about a woman, and he’s lost his appetite for fun because of her.”

  “Linda, you’re beginning to irritate me, and when I get mad, I react badly.”

  “But put yourself in my place for a moment. I’m amazed. You, in love? Unbelievable! I’ve known you for a year, and I’ve asked myself many times if you even have a heart, if there’s anyone, apart from yourself, that you care about. And tonight I see you unable to function because of a woman. And I thought I’d seen everything in my life!”

  “If you don’t leave right now, you’ll see more, and much worse!”

  “Yes, I know . . .”

  Linda began to dress while Franco poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank it in one gulp. When she finished, she went up to him. “I’m leaving,” she said flatly. “I suppose we won’t see each other again. There’s not a woman on this planet that you can’t have. Not that faithfulness is one of your virtues, but something tells me that things are different now.”

  “Things are different. And much more confusing.”

  “I don’t know whether I should be sorry for you or remind you that everything gets paid for. You were awful to everyone who slept with you—hard and unfeeling. You didn’t have the decency to make us feel like we existed as anything more than a body that offered you pleasure.”

  “Do you have much more to say?”

  “No, I’m leaving. I feel sorry for the woman you’re wanting right now. She doesn’t know what’s waiting for her.”

  Linda turned around and left the room quietly. She hadn’t yet finished with the Giotto family for the night. Soon she hoped she would free herself from their clutches. She crossed the fancy corridor and knocked softly at another door, then entered before anyone answered.

  Charley Giotto was waiting for her. Wearing his robe and smoking a cigar, he was quite good-looking for his sixty-five years, not overweight and with only a touch of gray in his hair. The repellent thing about him was his eyes. They were so like Franco’s but at the same time quite different. Completely black, with a look that didn’t remind you of anything human. When he looked at someone, sharp daggers shot from their depths, and now these blades slashed the tender flesh of the girl standing in front of him.

  “Finally!” he said, his voice in perfect harmony with his expression. “I’ve been waiting for you for an hour already.”

  “It’s not my fault, Mr. Giotto. You son just now threw me out!’

  “What happened?”

  “What did you want to happen? Why did I go? Don’t you know?”

  “When I ask, you won’t answer me with questions! How was my son with you? Like he usually is?”

  “Yes. That is . . .”

  Charley Giotto slapped her, leaving a bright-red mark on her cheek. “That may loosen your tongue!”

  Linda rubbed her cheek, holding back her tears, and looked at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to find out,” she said. “But Franco was different tonight. He seemed absentminded. He was in a hurry to throw me out, although other times I’ve stayed all night with him.”

  “Damn it!” he shouted and Linda cringed even more. “Maybe he said something about another woman?”

  “He didn’t have to. When I suggested he was mixed up with someone, it was obvious I was right. He basically admitted it.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of! They were right. That bastard Bowden arranged it and my idiot son fell into the trap. They got me, using my son. They’ll pay dearly for this!”

  “I don’t understand,” stammered Linda.

  As if he’d just remembered he wasn’t alone, Charley turned to the woman. “It’s not necessary for you to understand. I don’t have you around to understand, or to think!” His glance traveled over her and the girl shuddered. “Get undressed and into bed!” he ordered her. “I need to relax a bit.”

  Linda took a step back. “But Mr. Giotto, I only just got out of your son’s bed!”

  Charley Giotto was enraged. He went up to her and started hitting her, then grabbed her and tossed her like a sack on the bed. He threw himself on her and in his fury tore off her clothes like some beast from the jungle tearing at its prey. She had never hurt so much or felt such disgust for what a man could do to her body. His rage gave him unusual strength for his age, and Linda thought her ordeal would never end. When Giotto’s men had picked her up off the streets and made her work in one of the clubs he controlled, she thought she had found paradise. But in three years on the streets of Chicago, not one of her customers had ever used her like this.

  She stayed still until she heard his breath deepening, indicating he was asleep. With difficulty she dragged herself to the bathroom and the image she saw made her cry out softly in fear. Her lips were torn from his blows, her body was covered in bites and bruises, and his smell on her skin disgusted her. She bent over the basin and emptied her stomach. When she stood up, sweating, she had made her decision. Her little hometown in Kansas that had once seemed like a prison was now her only escape. Her parents had lost all trace of her, but she would fall at their feet and ask them to forgive her and let her stay with them. Why not? Anything was better than the hell of Chicago and Giotto.

  She tiptoed out of the room, got into her car, and disappeared as the dawn was breaking.

  Franco drove without seeing the beautiful landscape around him. It had snowed and it was as if a soft white cloud had left the sky and settled lightly on the streets, the roofs, and the trees. His mind traveled faster than his car. Last night was the final blow. Linda was a girl who always managed to satisfy him, but the only thing she managed to do last night was to make him remember her.

  After that night, he hadn’t called her, he hadn’t sent flowers. He knew there’d be no turning back once he started and the road that opened ahead frightened him. He wasn’t used to a woman controlling him so completely, especially one who’d never been in his bed. That virginal innocence of hers, so foreign to him, drove him crazy. All his life he had fallen into bed with experienced women who knew they were there solely for his entertainment. He didn’t care if they enjoyed themselves or not. All that mattered was his satisfaction. With Lyn, though, things would be different. He understood that with her it wouldn’t only be their bodies that spoke but their souls, and he didn’t know if he was ready for something like that. He had never shared his thoughts or feelings with anyon
e. He had lost his mother when he was five years old, and the strictness with which his father had raised him, the way of life he’d taught him, didn’t leave any room for sensitivity. Then there was the other, more important thing: Lyn must never learn about their work. The Mafia, and the veil of secrecy and fear that covered it were not suitable subjects for conversation.

  When Franco finally looked around to see where he was, he was shocked to find himself right outside her house. He had gotten her address from Bowden, but he never imagined he’d drive there unconsciously. He couldn’t believe his luck. Magdalini had just come outside and it was obvious that she was about to go for a walk. He realized his heart was beating unevenly and, angry with himself, he took a deep breath to recover. Magdalini had now walked out of the gate and was moving quickly, almost dancing, as she headed away.

  Franco let the car roll slowly forward until he caught up with her. She turned toward the vehicle, assuming that the driver had stopped to ask for directions, and her face lit up when she saw who it was. He got out of the car and approached her. Small blond curls escaped from the cap she was wearing, and her cheeks had begun to go red. Franco thought she was even more beautiful than he’d remembered.

  “I didn’t expect to see you outside my house,” she said cheerfully. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you. Are you going for a walk, or are you meeting someone?”

  “No, I’m not meeting anyone. But it was so beautiful with the snow that I couldn’t stay inside.”

  “Can I join you? Perhaps we can go somewhere together?”

  “In the car?” she asked, and a tone of disappointment crept into her voice.

  “Of course not,” he hurried to answer. “Since you’re going for a walk, I’ll walk with you. I don’t get outside and walk enough these days.”

  “So what do you do when it snows? Don’t you come out to enjoy the special smell of the snow?”

  “Nobody ever told me that the snow has a smell,” he observed, smiling.

  “Maybe not here,” Magdalini accepted, “but in the place I’m from, everything smells lovely and special when it snows. The mountain above the house seems to breathe. I came out to find that frozen breath.”

  Her eyes were full of nostalgia and despite himself, Franco reached out his hand and touched her frozen cheek. As if she had come to her senses, Magdalini looked at him in embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry. I got carried away by memories. If we don’t start walking to warm ourselves up, we’ll freeze,” the girl added happily.

  They began walking side by side and Franco asked her to tell him about her country, something that Magdalini had no difficulty doing. Her soft voice was like a caress in his ear; he watched her secretly as she spoke of the people she loved. She behaved as she would to any friend she’d met by chance. In fact, despite the dozens of women who had passed through his life, he’d never taken the trouble to understand any of them, or find out how they thought as people. He couldn’t imagine what an enormous effort it took for Magdalini to behave like this. Her heart had missed a beat when she met him. Putting great pressure on herself, she tried not to let her eyes show what she was hiding in her heart, and she kept talking to him about her house and family because it was the only way she knew to keep him at a distance. It was as if the memory of her mother protected her from something she shouldn’t do, something she was dying to do but was afraid of at the same time.

  Magdalini finally broke off her monologue and stopped to look at him. “Have I bored you?” she asked shyly.

  “No, nothing that you could say would bore me. But you speak with such love about your home that I wonder why you left and came to a foreign country.”

  “That’s another long story and I’m very afraid that if we stay out in this freezing air any longer we’ll both catch cold. What do you say? Shall we go back?”

  “No,” Franco said suddenly before he could control himself. He wasn’t ready to say good-bye yet. “There’s a café a little farther down. Shall we drop in for some hot chocolate?”

  Magdalini seemed to hesitate at first, but soon nodded her head in agreement. With relief, Franco took a breath. With quick steps they reached the café and hurried into its warmth. As they sat together with their scalding chocolate in front of them, they both seemed embarrassed. Suddenly there was nothing to talk about and they weren’t quite brave enough to raise their eyes and meet each other’s gaze. Things were at a stalemate.

  “So . . . now that we’re not in the cold anymore, will you tell me why you came to Chicago?” he asked, continuing with a subject that seemed safe.

  “Because I’m silly, I suppose,” answered Magdalini. “The village was suffocating me. I wanted to see a new place—most of my sisters had already left and my aunt was able to offer me something different.”

  “Don’t you like America?”

  “They say it’s the land of opportunity, of wealth. But I see it as a country of loneliness. Everyone is running to catch up—they don’t have time to talk, to live, to breathe. And Chicago reminds me of a volcano.”

  “A volcano? Why?”

  “Outside, it’s just another peak. But inside, lava is boiling and at every moment it’s ready to erupt. In the newspapers I see, they write terrible things. The Mafia has spread its tentacles everywhere; even the politicians obey them, people who should be above suspicion. Every now and then there’s a murder and they say the Mafia is behind it. It’s like an open secret, and that makes me furious.”

  Franco swallowed his mouthful of hot chocolate, then coughed nervously. Magdalini looked at him, frowning.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Of course not. I just choked a little. You’re right about everything you said, but all that’s in the underworld. What do our lives have to do with all that?”

  “It’s not so simple. When the corruption is so widespread, no one can sleep peacefully in their beds. You meet a person who seems decent and you ask yourself if he’s really like that or if he just acts that way to hide how deeply he’s involved in something illegal.”

  “So if you feel that way, why do you stay?”

  “I don’t know,” Magdalini answered, and her voice revealed a sad resignation.

  Franco reached out his hand and covered hers. He felt it trembling slightly and without a second thought he brought it to his lips. The atmosphere suddenly became electric. Her thick eyelashes dropped down over her honey-colored eyes again, and he fixed his eyes on her half-open lips. The desire to cover them with his overwhelmed him.

  “Lyn,” he whispered. “I want to know. Do you feel like I do?”

  She didn’t ask him what he meant. She only nodded her head yes. When she looked up, her eyes were damp. “I’m afraid,” she stammered in a voice that sounded like that of a frightened child.

  “I swear to you that whatever happens, I’ll never hurt you,” he said. “Just let me stay beside you. I won’t pressure you about anything. Just say that you’re mine, otherwise I’ll go crazy.”

  They came back when it was already getting dark and the snow had begun to fall again. Softly, like white butterflies, flakes fell on their shoulders and hair. Like shooting stars, the snowflakes gleamed pure white before they melted, leaving only a small drop of water to remind one of their presence. Franco and Magdalini looked at each other for a second. Invisible threads drew one to the other and it didn’t take long before they embraced. His lips sought hers and she offered them willingly. His kiss was tender at first, but, as if he wanted to drink her in completely, it soon became deeper and more demanding until it left them breathless.

  “When will I see you again?” he asked.

  “When do you want to?” she replied softly.

  “I’ll come tomorrow night to pick you up. We’ll go for dinner,” he said to her, trying to control his voice. “I hope your aunt and uncle will let me take you out.”

  “I don’t think they’ll have any objecti
ons.”

  “Tomorrow then,” he repeated and bent toward her again, but this time he held himself back. His kiss was gentle and he pulled back before he could be carried away.

  As he walked to his car, his steps were as heavy as lead. He thought about running back, snatching Magdalini, and making love to her on the snow. He felt as if he had a fever. He was shaking, but at the same time he was sweating. He jumped into his car and left as if he was being chased.

  Magdalini stood and watched the lights of his car disappear before she went inside. She needed a little time to recover before her aunt saw her flushed like this. She was madly in love despite the fact that everything she felt scared her. His embrace was the only place where she belonged. Only in his arms did she feel alive and happy.

  She found her aunt waiting for her with anxiety written all over her face. “For God’s sake, Magdalini!” she shouted as soon as she saw her. “Where were you? You went out for a little walk, and you were gone for four whole hours.”

  Magdalini looked at her watch and was herself shocked by how long she’d been gone. “I’m sorry, Aunt. I didn’t realize so much time had passed.”

  Just then Peter came into the room. He didn’t seem upset, like his wife. Instead, he was smiling. “What happened, young lady? You frightened your aunt! Did you get lost?”

  “I went out for a walk, and I met a friend by chance. We went for hot chocolate. I didn’t realize it was late . . . I didn’t notice.”

  Something about the girl’s tone made Anna suspicious. “Who did you meet, Magdalini? Does this friend have a name?”

  “Um . . . I met Franco a little way down the street,” she admitted, then stopped.

  “Ha! Of course. And completely by chance, I suppose, he passed through our neighborhood.” Anna’s voice was full of cynicism.

  Peter walked over to Magdalini and put his arms around her shoulders before he addressed his angry wife. “Hey, Anna, it seems to me that you’re overdoing it. Lyn didn’t commit a crime. The truth is she’s a responsible person, and you’re treating her like a teenager. And she didn’t go out with a bum.”