Carissima

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  Seemingly out of nowhere, throngs of tourists and locals soon fill the open-air market. Instead of Campo de’ Fiori, the market should be called Campo de’ Gioielli or Field of Gems, since the gleaming multicolored array of locally grown produce resembles sparkling jewels. Glistening onyx-colored eggplants . . . bulbous pearls of scallions . . . shiny emerald-hued peppers . . . ruby-red raspberries . . . coral-toned cherries.... The market is a culinary treasure trove. All of my senses are engaged by the stunning collection of produce and the vendors calling out their specialties and the fresh scent of the produce along with the aromas coming from the cafés and restaurants that are preparing their midday entrees.

  Since I don’t plan on returning to Francesca’s apartment until late in the day, I don’t want to load myself with heavy produce. So I opt to buy just a few fruits that I can eat as I stroll through the Campo. Summer fruit has always been my weakness. I purchase a few nectarines, cherries, and blackberries. I’m overwhelmed by their intense succulence.

  After I’m done eating my breakfast of fruit, I head over to one of the numerous stand-up bars, where I buy a quick cappuccino. The cornetti or croissants are calling to me so I splurge on one as well. I don’t feel too guilty since all I’ve had to eat is fruit. As I soon discover, the Italian version of croissants is different from their French counterparts. Cornetti are more cake-like and less flaky than French croissants. They’re also less buttery and slightly sweeter with an orange marmalade glaze on top.

  Completely satisfied and full, I leave the Campo de’ Fiori and head over to the Palazzo Spada. Though the Palazzo Farnese is the more famous and elaborate of the two palaces, I learned from my guidebook that in order to reserve tickets, one has to e-mail or write a letter as much as four months in advance. So the Palazzo Spada will have to do. I’m interested in seeing their collection of Old Master paintings as well as its famed trompe l’oeil garden gallery.

  After paying five euros for my admission ticket, I enter the Palazzo Spada. The Old Master paintings do not disappoint. My two favorites are Andrea del Sarto’s Visitation and Titian’s Musician. I take my time admiring the paintings. Inevitably, my mind drifts to Gregory. He could be done by now with his paintings for his second show. If only he were here with me. I want to share with him the feelings of awe that these paintings are inspiring in me. Suddenly, I regret canceling my international cell phone plan. Tears fill my eyes. What am I thinking? The guy cheated on me, and I’m still harboring fantasies of his joining me here in Rome. I feel stupid to admit that I’ve imagined him dropping everything in New York and surprising me here, begging me to take him back. Francesca’s words from last night haunt me. “You will probably never hear from him again.”

  I should be glad if that’s the case. Then why do I feel sad when I think that I’ll never see or talk to Gregory again?

  I’m shaken out of my reverie by Francesca’s phone, which belts out a loud Beethoven melody. The guards in the palazzo give me annoyed glances. I quickly answer the phone, doing my best to keep my voice low.

  “Pia?”

  “Lorenzo.” I don’t mean for my voice to come out with such a tone full of dread, but I can’t help it.

  “Francesca told me she gave you her cell so that I could reach you. I’m sorry. I know we were supposed to meet a couple of hours ago.”

  “That’s okay. Lorenzo, I’m fine on my own today. I’m actually at the Palazzo Spada right now. We can reschedule our plans for tomorrow—or even another day.”

  “It’s okay, Pia. You don’t have to pretend. Francesca told me that she confided in you about everything.”

  “Oh. I’m really sorry, Lorenzo. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sure this must all be a huge shock.”

  “Yes, to put it mildly. But I’ll be fine. I still would like to see you.”

  “Are you sure? I’d understand if you needed time to yourself to . . . to sort through everything. Really.”

  “To be quite honest, Pia, I could use the company—unless you already made plans on your own.”

  “No, no. That’s fine. Why don’t you meet me in front of the Palazzo Spada?”

  “That’s perfect since I have tickets for the Palazzo Farnese.”

  “You were able to get tickets? I thought you had to write and request them up to four months in advance?”

  “Normally you do, but I’m good friends with the palace’s chief curator.”

  “Wow! I’m impressed.”

  Lorenzo laughs. “I take it then you would love to go?”

  “Absolutely. But only if you’re up to it.”

  “I need the distraction, Pia. I have never been one to wallow in misery, though I suppose this set of circumstances warrants it.”

  Lorenzo’s voice finally sounds somber. He’s doing his best to mask his pain. My heart goes out to him. I can’t even begin to fathom all that he must be feeling.

  “I’m here if you want to talk about it, Lorenzo.”

  “Thank you, Pia. I appreciate that. Just do me a favor and let’s not talk about it until we’ve had some wine or at least cocktails during happy hour.”

  He plans on being with me the whole day? I thought we were just going to visit a sight or two. But I remain mum.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “I’ll meet you in front of Palazzo Spada shortly. I’m already walking over.”

  “See you soon, Lorenzo.” I hang up the phone and make my way toward the palace’s exit.

  It’s close to one p.m. and my stomach is growling. Trying to ignore my hunger pangs, I think about Lorenzo. I’m still amazed by his strength and that he wants to see me. If it were me, I’d be brooding home alone. After Erica died, I shunned all of my friends and just kept to myself. I regret now having pushed them away. A few really wanted to be there for me, but I was too absorbed in my grief to deal with anyone.

  “Pia?”

  I look up to see Lorenzo staring at me with concern written all over his face. It should be the other way around. His eyes appear more serious than usual, but other than that, he seems okay.

  “Hi.” I lean forward to kiss him on the cheek. He hugs me, much to my surprise, and doesn’t let go. I return his hug. Obviously, he’s not the rock of strength he was making himself out to be over the phone.

  “Lorenzo, I am so very sorry.”

  “Thank you, Pia. I’m wavering between anger and hurt. I’m angry at my mother and Francesca for keeping such a secret from me all these years. I’m also hurt that my mother never felt like she could confide in me about this.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “I’m the most mad that my mother had to die without my knowing the truth.”

  “How is Francesca?”

  “She’s a wreck. I blew up at her. I didn’t mean to, but I was livid.”

  “Understandably so.”

  “On the walk over here, I already regretted yelling at her. She was young when she was pregnant with me, and I don’t blame her for giving me away.”

  “So you’re not hurt that your own biological mother chose to give you up not once but twice?”

  Lorenzo shrugs his shoulders and glances at a few crumbs that someone has thrown to the pigeons flocking the street. “I’m disappointed that I wasn’t enough for her. She chose her career over me after all. But I think I’m more disappointed in my mother—or rather my aunt. God, do I stop calling mother the woman I knew my whole life and start calling the woman who has essentially been a stranger in my life my mother instead?” Lorenzo places his forehead in his hands.

  “Let’s go get something to eat or even just a drink.” I place my hand on Lorenzo’s arm. He takes my hand and kisses it, much to my surprise.

  “You’re an angel, Pia Santore.” Lorenzo smiles at me. I shyly return the smile, but glance away.

  “Yes, let’s get something to eat. I never had breakfast. Francesca could’ve at least waited until after I ate to spill the news.” Lorenzo lets out a boisterous laugh, causing several pedestrians to look our way. He’s being s
nide of course.

  “You know, Lorenzo, it’s not too late. We can forget about the Palazzo Farnese. Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, Pia, I’d think you’re trying to blow me off.” Lorenzo winks at me.

  “That’s not it at all! I’m just amazed that you even are trying to go about as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened today. I wouldn’t have handled it this way.”

  “As I said earlier, I’d rather try and keep myself occupied. If I don’t, I might just kill La Sposa Pazza. Ahhh! The absurdity! Who would’ve ever thought my mother is none other than the famous Crazy Bride. She’s crazy, all right. I’ll give her that.”

  I feel sorry for Francesca. Although I can understand Lorenzo’s anger toward Francesca, she is still his mother. She was young and in love. Unfortunately, when you combine youth and passion, good sense is often thrown out the window. No wonder Francesca called off all her engagements. She’d been pining away for Dante. How sad that she couldn’t find love with someone else. And now her son, the only family she has left, probably wants nothing to do with her ever. I want to ask Lorenzo if he sees himself having a relationship with Francesca down the road, after he’s come to terms with everything. But I know now is not the right time. He’s experiencing too many emotions that need to be sorted out.

  “Let’s eat at Ar Galletto. It’s quite popular and close by.”

  “Okay. I am starving so the thought of walking around forever to find a restaurant wouldn’t have sat well with my stomach.”

  Ar Galletto is just a few feet away from the Palazzo Farnese. Since most of the patrons have already arrived for la seconda colazione or midday meal, there isn’t a line and we’re seated immediately. Fortunately, one last table is available outside. I can see why this restaurant is so popular. Dining al fresco affords diners with an amazing view of the Palazzo Farnese. The beautiful fountains and the majestic architecture of the Palazzo Farnese create a gorgeous backdrop.

  I decide to order a typical Roman dish—Carciofi alla Giudia or twice-fried artichokes. The artichokes are stuffed with sprigs of mint and garlic and are then braised. Deep frying them twice creates a very tender artichoke heart. And I’ve never seen in America artichokes as large as the ones in Rome.

  Lorenzo opts for the Penne Arrabbiata, which features a spicy tomato sauce. We order a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. We’re both famished and eat most of our meal in silence. After we’re done, Lorenzo orders two shots of sambuca. I order one as well. Lorenzo raises his glass and says, “To living happy in La Città Eterna.”

  I clink his glass, but I think it’s a rather odd toast to make given the news he received today. Then again, I’m sure he’s being sarcastic. As I sip my sambuca, I can’t help noticing most of the women in the restaurant are glancing in Lorenzo’s direction. There never has been any doubt that he is attractive, but now that I see the effect he’s having on all of these women in the restaurant, I take closer notice. Today, he’s wearing jeans that hang slightly lower than his waist. His burnt-orange fitted T-shirt shows off his well-defined biceps and enhances his deeply tanned skin. He leans back in his chair, taking in the view of the Palazzo Farnese. I’m sure his mind must be on Francesca and Signora Tesca. His lips are slightly apart and have a rose blush to them. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, but he is Francesca’s son. He’s every bit as gorgeous as she is. He must sense that I’m staring at him, for his eyes meet mine. And for the first time since I’ve met him, they’re an intense emerald green, just like Francesca’s. I can’t stop looking at him. His lips curl slightly upward, and he reaches over the table and holds my hand. I don’t pull back, but I finally take my gaze away from his. My heart is racing, and suddenly I remember the kiss we shared the night of Gregory’s show.

  Lorenzo downs his second shot of sambuca and says, “Ready for the Palazzo Farnese?”

  I nod my head, but don’t dare meet his eyes this time. He continues holding my hand as he takes out his wallet with the other hand, flips the wallet open, and manages to pull out a few euro notes, tossing them on the table. He stands up, finally releasing my hand, but comes over and helps me out of my chair.

  As we walk the few steps over to the Palazzo Farnese, I cross my arms across my chest. Though I can’t deny I like the way my hand felt in Lorenzo’s, I’m confused. Yes, I’ll admit now there has been a strong current of attraction since the first day I ran into him at the Mussolini Mansion, but I don’t think I have the energy to get involved with someone so soon after my breakup with Gregory.

  The Palazzo Farnese is breathtaking to say the least. To think I almost missed out on seeing its interiors.

  “I’ve seen most of the palaces in Rome, and this one is definitely the most beautiful Renaissance palazzo in the city,” Lorenzo says.

  “I believe it.” My eyes can’t stop circling all around the stunning architecture.

  Lorenzo gives me a brief history of the Palazzo Farnese, which is most known for the exquisite Baroque ceiling in its Galleria Carracci. The friezes and the main window over the piazza were designed by Michelangelo, as well as part of the courtyard and the lovely arch over Via Giulia at the back of the palace. After we take in the astounding Galleria Carracci, we head into the Salon of Hercules. I’m fascinated by its heady opulence.

  “The Palazzo Farnese is now home to the French Embassy.” Lorenzo gives me facts every now and then.

  I take several photos with my cell phone camera.

  “Can you please take a photo of us?” Lorenzo asks a young American woman. He takes my cell phone and hands it to her. She looks every bit as captivated by him as the women in the restaurant earlier. Lorenzo flashes a deep smile that makes her absolutely blush. He then runs over to me and places his arm around my shoulders. I do my best to look relaxed and smile, but every time he touches me, my pulse races.

  “Are you okay, Pia? You look a bit pale.”

  “I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “I know what will make you feel better. Gelato!”

  Lorenzo says “gelato” like a gushing school boy. I can’t help but laugh.

  “Have you had gelato at any of the gelaterie by the Pantheon? They’re the best in Rome.”

  “No, I haven’t been by the Pantheon yet, but it’s one of my must-see sights.”

  “Perfect. After we take our gelato break, we can go into the Pantheon.”

  Lorenzo’s mood seems lighter already. I’m glad he decided to keep his plans with me. I’m having a good time even if his intimate gestures have rattled me a bit.

  We arrive near the Pantheon. Several gelaterie greet us.

  “So we have Giolitti, which has been known for its gelato for years and for a time was considered the best in Rome. Della Palma, which is quite popular with tourists for it serves one hundred flavors.”

  “One hundred?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I thought Baskin Robbins with thirty-one flavors offered a lot of choices.”

  “My personal favorite is Cremeria Monteforte, which has won several awards.”

  “Wait! There’s a gelato contest?”

  “Of course! Gelato comes second next to the church in sacredness in Italy.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure they’re all stupendous. You can choose.”

  “No, this is your first time in Italy. I insist you choose.”

  “Hmmm. This is going to be tough. What about that place, Fiocco di Neve?” I point with my index finger. “Do you not recommend that gelateria?”

  “The gelato is good there also, but they’re more known for their coffee granite. We can go there for breakfast tomorrow if you like.”

  “Breakfast?” I can’t conceal my surprise.

  “I guess you forgot that we were supposed to spend this week, and possibly next, together exploring Rome.” Lorenzo smiles.

  “No, I didn’t forget, but I do remember I had reserved just this week to take a break from writing your
mother’s autobiography. I never said I’d also take next week off.” I suddenly realize I’ve called Francesca his mother. Placing my hand over my mouth, I say, “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. She is after all my mother. But I’m not quite ready to begin calling her that.”

  “Of course. I understand. I’m sorry.”

  Lorenzo waves his hand as if to say “don’t worry about it.”

  “So it’s decided, breakfast tomorrow morning at Fiocco di Neve. I think tomorrow we should go to the Vatican and Castel Sant’Angelo. We definitely want to get to the Vatican as soon as they open or else it’ll be a mob scene worse than rush hour on the New York City subways.”

  “Sounds good.” I decide to give up fighting Lorenzo. It’s obvious he has no intention of changing our plans to see Rome together. I’m actually feeling less self-absorbed knowing that I’m helping to keep him occupied after his learning the truth about his parentage.

  “So which gelateria do you want to go to?”

  “Oh, right. Hmmm.” I mull over the choices. I’m tempted to go to Della Palma just to see the one hundred flavors, but I don’t want to appear like the typical tourist since it’s popular with them. I decide to go with Lorenzo’s favorite Cremeria Monteforte, especially since it’s won several awards.

  There’s a line inside, but it’s not too long.

  “You chose well, Pia. If we had gone to Della Palma, we never would’ve gotten out of there.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “If you really wanted to go there, I wouldn’t have denied your wish. Like I said, this is your first time in Italy. Whatever you want, you shall have.”