Carissima

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  I will be in mourning for six months. Part of me feels guilty that I am not doing il lutto for a full year, but even that custom has been falling out of favor in Italy. My poor mother once wore black for three years straight after both of her parents died within a year of each other, and then my father’s mother died just a couple of months before she was due to stop her mourning. One might think that a famous actress who wears nothing but the finest designer couture would shun il lutto. But instead of looking at it as a cross to bear, I am comforted that I can do this small act for Giuliana.

  The most famous feature in Santa Maria della Vittoria is Bernini’s brilliant and astonishing sculpture of The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa. It sits in the church’s Cornaro Chapel, which was designed by Bernini to look like a theater. For me, it is one of the best examples of Baroque art. The chapel’s benefactor was Cardinal Federico Cornaro. Bernini even designed an audience for this miniature theater by sculpting members of the Cornaro family seated in boxes as they watch the drama unfolding—St. Theresa’s ecstasy of divine love.

  Every time I visit this church, I am completely mesmerized by this work that shows St. Theresa lying on a cloud. Her head is thrown back and her eyes are shut as she is in the midst of her rapture. An angel stands above her, and he is holding an arrow, preparing to pierce the saint’s body for a second time. Shards of heavenly light made from bronze rain down on the saint and angel, creating a stunning iridescent backdrop.

  For some reason whenever I come here, I am moved to tears when I admire this masterpiece. But today, I am also crying for my son. I have let him down by giving him up all those years ago and choosing to keep the truth from him for so long. While Lorenzo might not be ready to forgive me, I need to feel pardoned. That is why I am here.

  Finally, it is my turn to enter the confessional. A man exits the confessional and stops when he sees me. For a moment, I am afraid he recognizes me, but he merely scans my body from my chest down to my legs and then whispers, “Hai un corpo stupendo.”

  I scowl and whisper in reply, “Porco schifoso.”

  He smiles and shrugs his shoulders, indifferent to my anger. I can still feel his eyes lingering on me and taking in my backside as I enter the confession booth. To think even in Italy, one of the most sacred countries in the world, you can encounter a filthy pervert like that who has the audacity to tell me in church that I have a gorgeous body.

  Kneeling down behind the panel that separates the sinner from the priest, I make the sign of the cross and say, “Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio, e dello Spirito Santo. Perdonami, Padre.”

  In Italian, the priest asks me, “How long has it been since your last confession?”

  I answer, “I am afraid to say about forty years.”

  “What is important is that you are here now.”

  “I have lied and coveted material wealth.”

  “Si. What else?”

  “I am afraid to say, Padre, I had marital relations before marriage.”

  “How about during marriage?”

  “I have never taken the sacrament of marriage, Padre.”

  “Ah. And you said your last confession was forty years ago?”

  “Si, Padre.” No doubt he is doing the math and thinking, She is quite old to never have married.

  “May I ask, signorina, why you have never taken the sacrament of marriage? Did you not find any suitable men who could become your husband?”

  I am taken aback for a moment. My anger is beginning to simmer.

  “I mean no disrespect, Padre, but do you really need to know the answer to that question?”

  “Ahh, no, no, of course not. Please go on with your confession.”

  “I . . . I . . . betrayed my sister.”

  “How so?”

  “I seduced and stole her boyfriend when we were teenagers.”

  “You were young. I am sure God will forgive you.”

  “I did not stop desiring him even after we broke up and he returned to my sister and wed her.”

  “Thou shalt not covet your neighbor’s wife. Or in this case husband. Yes, you broke that commandment. Did you have relations with him while he was married to your sister?”

  “No. At least I can say no to that. But I did go to him after they were married to tell him I wanted him back and that I had had a child with him as well—a child I gave up for adoption. That is perhaps my greatest sin, giving up my own son.”

  “It is not a sin to give up a child for adoption. You ensured the child would be raised by parents who could do so since you were not able to, correct?”

  “I did ensure the child had a good home. But I would have been able to provide financially for him. I was a coward and afraid of what everyone would say about my being a single mother. I chose my career as well, knowing a baby would put an end to it.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I would rather not say, Padre.”

  “As you wish. You have punished yourself enough for giving up your child, but I assure you it will not be looked upon as a sin by God.”

  “How can God forgive me if my own son does not?”

  “You have been reunited with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be patient. And place your trust in our heavenly Father. Surrender to His will and whatever plans He has for your destiny. Are there any other sins you wish to confess, my child?”

  “No, Padre.”

  “For your repentance, pray fifty Hail Marys, ten Our Fathers, and find a worthy charity to devote some time to.”

  “Excuse me, Padre, but that seems like a lot considering you told me my sin was not really a sin and the sin of taking my sister’s boyfriend could be forgiven since I was just a young girl.”

  “Do not question me, signora.”

  “Signorina.”

  “Excuse me, signora.”

  “It is signorina! As I told you, I have never been married.”

  “Ah! That is correct. I am sorry, signorina. Now if there is not anything else, you may leave.”

  “You have not blessed me yet, Father!” My voice rises. I am ready to reach over the panel that separates us and thrash this priest over the head with my purse. I do not care that he is a man of God.

  “Please bow your head. Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio, e dello Spirito Santo. Dio, perdona questa donna.”

  I close my eyes as the priest blesses me and asks God to forgive me, but it is difficult to listen to his words. My blood is boiling. Volunteer at a charity? I cannot do that. He does not know who I am or else he would never give me such a preposterous repentance. I would be mobbed. But I know I must do something worthy besides praying all those Hail Marys and Our Fathers. I will have to give it some thought.

  Once the priest finishes his benediction, I wish him a nice day and exit the confessional. Edgardo is waiting for me.

  “I thought you would never come out of there. I know you have a lot to ask forgiveness for, but Lord!” Edgardo lets out a low whistle.

  “Basta! Enough! And do not use the name of the Lord in vain. We are in His house.”

  “All I said was L—”

  “I said enough.”

  We exit the church. I keep my head down lest anyone recognize me. We walk to my car, which is double-parked outside the church. My driver is waiting. As I am about to get into the back, I hear, “Francesca! Wait!”

  I have been recognized! But when I turn around, I am stunned.

  “Rocco? What are you doing here?”

  “Yes, what are you doing here, Mr. Vecchio? That’s ‘old’ in Italian, isn’t it?”

  I look up at Edgardo, shocked by his rude comment. Brave soul that Rocco is, he merely smiles at Edgardo and says, “Yes, that is correct.

  “Francesca, you look beautiful as always, but I can see the ache of losing Giuliana is still fresh for you.” Rocco embraces me. I merely kiss him on both cheeks and thank him. While I am a sex symbol, I have never been comfortable with open displays of affection. Besides, Edgardo has the meanest
expression on his face right now. I can only imagine what he would do if I were daring enough to kiss Rocco on the lips in public.

  “I am happy to see you, Rocco, but you should have called first.”

  “I am sorry. I had to come to Italy to purchase jewelry for my store, and I thought since I was here, I would surprise you. I know how much you love to be surprised.” Rocco winks at me. I can feel myself blushing.

  “We need to get going, Francesca, before you are recognized.” Edgardo takes my elbow and begins leading me to my car.

  I pull free and say to Rocco, “Please join me. We can catch up at my apartment. By the way, how did you know I would be here, or is meeting you a coincidence?”

  Rocco smiles. “I wish I could say it was destiny. How romantic that would be—here in Rome and then we meet by chance, ah?”

  This man knows how to get to me. I giggle softly like a schoolgirl who has been noticed by a boy for the first time. Edgardo scowls at me.

  “I stopped by your apartment and your housekeeper told me you were here.”

  “We’ll be sure to fire her when we return,” Edgardo states flatly.

  “We will not fire Maria. She has been with me since I moved to Rome.” Now it’s my turn to scowl at Edgardo.

  “Since when do you have a problem firing people?” Edgardo shoots back. I am embarrassed that he has said this in front of Rocco, but I immediately realize that was Edgardo’s intention— humiliation in front of the man who worships me so that Rocco will see my flaws and drop me.

  “Si, Edgardo. Remember that. Anyone can be replaced. Now if you will excuse Rocco and me, I need to talk to him.” I return my attention to Rocco, who seems amused by my exchange with Edgardo. Edgardo steps into the passenger seat of my car and slams the door shut with all his brute force.

  “Whew! I don’t think you want to make your bodyguard mad. There’s no telling what he’ll do.” Rocco shakes his head.

  “I am sorry you had to witness that. He is very good at what he does. But he forgets his place sometimes, I am afraid to say.”

  “I think it’s more than that, Francesca. I think he has the hots for you.”

  “Please!” I wave dismissively and give a laugh so false that I fear Rocco will see through to my acting. I have always suspected Edgardo is attracted to me, but I will not admit it to Rocco. He must feel like he is the only man in my life.

  “I’m serious, Francesca. He’s jealous of me. You think I didn’t get that crack he made about my name meaning ‘old’ in Italian? I know he’s also still mad at me over sneaking you out of your sister’s house for our nights on the town.”

  “Do not trouble yourself over Edgardo. He is a big boy. So, will you ride back with me to my apartment? We will have dinner together.”

  “Sure. But I have to tell you something first, Francesca.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. I want to be completely honest with you. While it is true that I always come to Italy in the summer to buy more jewelry for my business, I originally was planning on sending my associate to make the trip this year. But I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you terribly since you’ve left. I was hoping that maybe we could take in some of the Roman sights together and just relax a bit. But I understand if you’re not feeling up to it, being that you lost your sister a few weeks ago.”

  I am touched by Rocco’s sincerity and candidness. Tears fill my eyes. I quickly blink them back and hope Rocco cannot see through my tinted glasses. What is the matter with me? Ever since Giuliana died, I cry over anything.

  “Hey! It’s okay. If you don’t want to see my ugly mug again, I’ll get on the next flight back to New York.”

  I laugh. I know Rocco is only joking.

  “I can use a shoulder to cry on, Rocco. I have been upset by more than Giuliana’s death. Look, Rocco. I am going to be honest with you as well since you have been so gracious and open with me. You need to know all about Francesca Donata, and I am warning you, a lot of it is ugly. After you hear my story, I will understand if you never want to see me again.”

  “It’s going to take a lot to chase me away, Francesca. Besides, you’re not the only one with a few skeletons in your closet.”

  “I doubt that, Rocco. I doubt it very much.”

  29

  Pia

  I’m walking through the famous halls of the Sistine Chapel, and like the rest of the tourists, my head is bent back as I take in the magnificent ceiling where Michelangelo painted nine scenes from the Bible’s Book of Genesis. While I am in awe, I’m also overwhelmed. Lorenzo and I don’t talk, reluctant to break our focus.

  Suddenly, the crowd of tourists completely stops walking. As I get closer, I see why. They’re all dazzled by the Creation of Adam. Goosebumps quickly dot my arms like raindrops pelleting a street. There is so much beauty and strength in all of the frescoes, but viewing this majestic scene in which God’s finger meets Adam’s as He creates him moves me. And there it is again—I am wishing Gregory could be here, sharing this moment with me. I look down to the marble floors beneath and shut my eyes tightly, attempting to physically shut him out.

  “Pia, are you okay?” Lorenzo takes me by the wrist and excuses himself as he ushers me through the crowd.

  “I’m fine, Lorenzo.”

  “You probably just need some air.”

  “No, really. I’m fine. I was upset, but I am feeling well. Don’t rush on my account. I’d like to finish walking slowly through the Chapel.”

  “All right, but please, Pia, don’t feel like you have to do so on my account. I have been here several times, so we can leave whenever you’re ready.”

  “You’ve been here before yet you looked just as moved as I was when we were staring at the ceiling.”

  “It never ceases to astound me that one person was able to paint all of this while lying on his back on a scaffold. And it’s beyond perfect.”

  I nod my head. “I’d always heard people say how you can’t truly appreciate the Sistine Chapel until you’ve seen it in person, and now I see why.”

  We continue strolling through the rest of the Chapel in silence. Once we exit, Lorenzo suggests we get refreshments at the Vatican’s café. We make our way to the café. Lorenzo orders an espresso for himself and an Orangina soda for me. I decide to quickly engage Lorenzo in talking about himself before he can ask what upset me earlier.

  “Have you spoken to Francesca since she revealed to you that she’s your mother?”

  “I called her last night after I got home. I apologized for blowing up at her and told her that I understood her actions, but I asked her to give me time. I told her I want her in my life, but that we need to take baby steps. She was relieved to hear what I had to say, of course.”

  “That was very generous of you.”

  “It was the truth.” Lorenzo shrugs his shoulders.

  “But there’s still some anger, isn’t there?” I ask gently.

  “Yes, but it’s simmering down. Francesca is the only family I now have, Pia.” Lorenzo looks off.

  “I’m glad you’re not making the same mistake your mother made and that you have decided to forgive Francesca now rather than make her wait three decades.”

  “Well, my mother was extremely hurt and devastated after losing my father, the love of her life. Then she loses their child only to find out later that her sister had had a baby with her husband.”

  “It was before your father and Giuliana got back together. It’s not like he cheated on her with Francesca while they were married.”

  “True, but of all the people for him to have a child with, it had to be her sister, who had already stolen him from her. And then to hear Francesca admit that she had wanted him back—I can’t even begin to understand my mother’s anger or how much she was hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, Lorenzo. I didn’t mean to make it sound as if Giuliana had no reason to be mad at Francesca. It’s just sad that they couldn’t have made up years ago rather than right before she die
d.”

  “Yes. Well, I suppose what’s really important is that they did patch things up before she died. Although I didn’t know exactly why they hadn’t been talking, I knew my mother was pained by her estrangement with her sister. That’s also why I wrote to Francesca and insisted she fly to New York immediately.”

  I place my hand over Lorenzo’s. “You’re a good son.”

  Lorenzo latches onto my hand and with his free one he strokes my cheek. His eyes meet mine, and this time, I don’t glance away. I feel closer to him after just the past two days that we’ve spent together exploring Rome. And before I can stop it, Lorenzo leans in and kisses me. I should pull away, but I don’t want to. Lorenzo’s expert kiss leaves me longing for more, but unlike the night of Gregory’s show, this one is much shorter. The café is getting more crowded with tourists, and we don’t want to give them another show.

  “Pia, I’m going to speak candidly. After losing my mother and finding out the truth about Francesca, I don’t want to waste time like they did. I like you, Pia—a lot. And I’d like to see where we can take this relationship. That is, of course, if you’re interested. I realize you’re still dealing with your breakup from Gregory, and I don’t want to rush you. But I know I can make you happy.”

  I’m speechless. Though it’s no secret that Lorenzo and I have had chemistry since we first met, I didn’t think his feelings for me were more than just a physical attraction.

  “I’m flattered, Lorenzo. And while I can’t deny there is a strong attraction between us, how can you be so sure of your feelings for me? We’ve known each other only a short time.”

  “I’ve seen enough to know you possess all of the traits I’ve always wanted in a partner. Look, I probably shouldn’t be jumping to that stage right now and scaring you off. We can take it slowly and just date and enjoy each other’s company. I’ll let you set the pace. If and when you think you’re ready to take it to the next level, it’s your call.”