The Scent Of Rosa's Oil
Page 25
“And then?”
“We have time. I’ll tell you everything that happened between us.”
“Without holding back?”
Rosa nodded. “Promise.”
“Did you really wear that black wig and call yourself Tramonto to get my attention?” he asked.
“You were very judgmental at the time.”
“I was stupid,” he said. “I’m so happy now. Are you happy?”
“Very.” She paused. “It’s strange. I’m leaving the city where I grew up and the people who raised me, and I’m standing on moving water, going toward the unknown, but for the first time ever I feel like I found my place in the world. How do you explain it?”
Renato said, “That’s what happens when your dreams come true. I found my place in the world when you came to rescue me at the monastery.” He raised his index finger. “Actually, let me rephrase. I found my place in the world the moment I smelled your oil at the monastery.”
Rosa fidgeted gently with the blue stone. She thought of the Valles’ farmhouse with its horse chestnut trees; the hostel where she, Maddalena, and Madam C had spent the night; Giacomo behind the broken furniture, wounded and in pain; Renato’s mildly surprised face when he had rushed to meet her in her red hair at his apartment door. She smiled as with her mind’s eye she saw Tramonto running stealthily through the night to lose her suitor. As the ship turned and headed for the open sea and Genoa’s steep hills and calm port waters became an image in Rosa’s memory and no longer real, she wondered when exactly Renato had understood that the odor he had smelled on Tramonto’s skin and followed like a hound in the caruggi had been instead the scent of Rosa’s oil.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this story are fictional. Any reference or resemblance to individuals either living or dead is strictly a coincidence.
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Copyright © 2008 by Lina Simoni
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-6667-5