The Eternal Moment
Page 1
The Eternal Moment
DEMETRIO VERBARO
Translated by Jesus M. Gonzalez
“The Eternal Moment”
Written By DEMETRIO VERBARO
Copyright © 2016 DEMETRIO VERBARO
All rights reserved
Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.
www.babelcube.com
Translated by Jesus M. Gonzalez
“Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Eternal Moment
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
EPILOGUE
END
THE ETERNAL MOMENT
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Those who have read my first novel “the burden of the ant” know that I like playing with the readers’ capacity for intuition and transporting them to a labyrinthine room of mirrors and leave them clues to find the exit. My second novel “The eternal moment” is a simple but powerful story about love and friendship. I could have written it in a linear manner, in chronological order, but that is not my literary style, so I twisted the plot: in the odd chapters I delve into the characters’ past, lived in Calabria, in the even pairs I explore their present, lived in New York, until arriving to the future in the final chapter, thereby creating a labyrinth for the reader. Enjoy the reading and remember: among the pages there are always breadcrumbs to find the way out.
CHAPTER 1
Jessica was sitting in the first row. She was wearing a tiny white dress that was decorated with green flowers. Her red hairs were tied into a ponytail with a pink ribbon.
The black eyes of the altar boy, Giuseppe, were fixated on that beautiful face with delicate features, but every time that Jessica turned to look at him, he, overwhelmed by his shyness, immediately turned to look somewhere else.
But that Sunday, when there was little time left until the end of mass, it finally happened: the first time that she stared back!
Everybody remembers perfectly their first kiss, or the first time that they made love, but almost nobody remembers the first time that their significant other stared back at them.
Giuseppe, on the other hand, would have never forgotten the emotions that he felt from that first look that he had exchanged with Jessica: he was enchanted from staring at those clear and intense eyes, his soul was lost in those blue-colored irises. He was feeling prey to a spell, his heart was beating like crazy, and his soul was reaching out to her.
In the meantime, the priest, a man that was around fifty years old with an ivory face and silvery hairs, continued with the mass: «Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, "Take and eat; this is my body." Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, "Drink from it, all of you.” This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. »
A strange silence fell over the church, broken only by sporadic coughing and crying of a baby in diapers. After a while, Giuseppe started to feel that his fellow altar boys where elbowing him and were worriedly pointing towards the altar
The boy, reluctantly, turned away, forcing himself to take his eyes off of Jessica’s eyes, and then he saw the tall figure of the priest who was impatiently signaling something to him.
Giuseppe looked at him confused, the priest lost his temper and, leaving aside his usually impeccable manners, with a half sneer accompanied by a harsh tone, ordered him in a loud voice: "The incense burner!! Bring me the incense burner!! Hurry up, idiot of a brat!! »
In a moment Giuseppe realized the mess, took the incense burner and walked with rapid steps to the altar, but tripped over a rug and ended up with his face to the ground, scattering incense over the entire chancel.
A general laughter broke out among those present, all laughed at him, Jessica included.
The priest was furious; his face was altered with anger: «Please, please, calm down! What is this ruckus? We're not in a theater! Have some respect; do not forget that this is the house of the Lord! Remember that laughter abounds on the mouth of the fools!! »
Giuseppe got up and went back to his place in pain, his head bowed, not looking up until the end of the mass.
It was August 2, 1992, a huge sun, red as a glowing ball of fire, preened on the horizon, before rising fast over the steep mountains of the Aspromonte, scattering light to the day and illuminating Mosorrofa, a small district of Reggio Calabria, which seen from above, looked like a snake lying on the hill.
It was a quaint town, made up of high buildings with colorful facades, small shops, little houses perched next to dirt roads, flowering valleys and fertile fields.
Giuseppe, before going home like every Sunday of every summer, stopped at the bar "Da Franco" to buy ice cream. It was the largest bar in town, he had a trellis covered with ivy and the tables overlooked the street.
Even though he was only ten years old, Giuseppe was a child with a great intelligence that could almost be considered a genius. He loved psychology and was a great connoisseur of the people. He did nothing but observe their customs, their obsessions, their behaviors. He had a small frame; his dark hair was frizzy and disheveled, a hint of acne made his face look edgy, and almost never worried about the clothes he was going to wear. But it was enough to talk a few minutes with him to be fascinated. He expressed, without ostentation, about culture, talent and kindness.
In front of the bar, sitting at the tables on the street, he saw Michele and Bartolo playing briscola and Aldo who was reading the Gazzetta dello Sport. They were men of thirty who still lived with their parents. They had hands with no calluses and relaxed and carefree expression, typical of those who instead of working and having a family, preferred to loiter with the sole purpose of avoiding any responsibility; eternal Peter Pans, who instead of facing life, they suffered it, instead of trying to improve and evolve, they spent all their time immersed in idleness and mediocrity.
Giuseppe stopped for a second to watch their game.
Bartolo, a man with a big and proportioned body but with a small and gaunt face, pulled the two of cups.
Giuseppe noticed that Michele moved the cigarette, now reduced to a butt, from the right to the left side of his mouth.
«He has the ace of cups! » thought Giuseppe.
Michele looked like a bad boy, augmented by his tight jeans, the leather-with-spikes bracelets and his open shirt. He stood up and forcefully threw the ace of cups on the table: «You lose; you have to pay for what we consumed!!! »
Bartolo started swearing and cursing against his bad luck.
Giuseppe approached Aldo ‘The Archimedes” and asked him:
«Who has the Inter bought? »
Aldo, who was wearing a denim shirt buttoned up to the neck and nerdy coke-bottle glasses, without taking his eyes from his favorite book said, emphasizing each name: «Pancev, Sammer, Shalimov and Toto Schillaci!!!»
Giuseppe exclaimed enthusiastically:
«This year we’ll win the Scudetto for sure! Pancev last year won the Golden Shoe. »
Aldo closed the pink-pages section of the newspaper and continued with dreamy eyes and a
stupid smile on his lips, without even noticing that the boy had greeted him long ago.
When Giuseppe entered the front yard, a strong smell of gravy invaded his nostrils: «I love Sundays and I love the macaroni with sausage-made ragu sauce! » He thought with a watering mouth.
Ms. Margherita Baldini welcomed her son with a long hug: «Go wash your hands, the table is set! »
While soaking a slice of wheat bread in the leftover gravy from his second portion of pasta, Giuseppe told his mother of his hilarious fall in church.
Margherita laughed heartily, showing a radiance that was often dormant.
The boy asked with an insecure tone, as if he wanted to apologize for the question:
«Would you come with me to church next Sunday? »
The woman's gaze became stern, her lips closed in a grimace, «I have things to do, you know! I have to feed the animals, water the plants ... »
«You can do it in the evening. I’ll help you! »
"I said no!" Margherita said with a strong tone in her voice.
Giuseppe bit his lip as to not to cry. "Okay mom, whatever." He finished his glass of water and stood up. "I'm going to read on the terrace."
The woman was left alone. She leaned back in her chair with a sad expression, exhausted.
It had been one year now since last she'd set foot in a church, and that day, immediately after the funeral of her husband, she promised herself that she would have never entered again.
She still believed in God, but she could not accept what he had done to her.
Before becoming a widow, she had been and optimistic and carefree woman. She could see the beauty and happiness even in small things. She was very beautiful. She had long and soft black hair that fell to her shoulders. Her dark eyes resembled the color of the night and could radiate light in every look.
She had two dimples that crowned the fine features of her face. She used to wear elegant dresses that highlighted her voluptuous curves.
But, after the accident, the color of her eyes faded, her hair lost brightness, she stopped going to the hairdresser’s and to the beautician's, She began to wear only long and dark clothing that covered every bit of skin.
She had always been a practicing Christian, but now her faith had wavered. She did not care anymore about anything. She did not aspire to anything but letting the days go by. Her emotions were hidden and never grew. If she saw something beautiful, she looked away. Her thoughts were dark, if a pleasant thought was lit in her mind she shook it off immediately. Like all women who have lost their love, she did not desire anything anymore. She no longer went to the sea, or to the movies. She felt guilty doing anything that could give her pleasure, even smile.
CHAPTER 2
Most of the days of our lives slip away without a trace, they go by almost without realizing it, they are so similar one to another, often trivial. But then there are those few unforgettable days, special, more unique than rare, like that day in which for the first time you saw the snow come down from the sky, do you remember how soft it was? Like that day when you learned to swim without a life jacket or arm floaters, do you remember how great you felt? Like that day when your newborn son clung to your index finger and grasped it with all the strength in his little hand, do you remember how strong your heart was beating?
December 31, 2012 for Giuseppe and Jessica was one of those rare and unforgettable days.
The sparkling New Year's Ball slowly descended from the pole that was located at the top of the building One Times Square.
There was one minute to midnight and everything was shining in that magical night of New Year's Eve. It was a blaze of lights, colors, sounds and hopes.
Giuseppe turned to Jessica who, despite being wrapped in her coat and scarf to fend off the harsh winter in New York, still managed to radiate beauty: the red, straight and long hair caressed her shoulders and gave a virginal expression to her fresh and delicate face, animated by a pure smile and by two piercing blue eyes.
While the hundreds of thousands of people that crowded Times Square watched enraptured and frenzied the countdown that was showing on the giant screen, Giuseppe only had eyes for his girlfriend.
He took a deep breath, pulled out a ring from the inside pocket of his jacket, knelt, and with a weakly and flickering voice he whispered:
«Would you marry me? »
The scream from the crowd loudly chanted the seconds that were missing to the start of the new the year.
SIX...FIVE...FOUR...
Jessica was not a superstitious woman. She did not believe either in fate or fortune. For her, fate was the result of her decisions and actions. And now she was facing one of the most difficult decisions of her life, so, while being sure of her answer, she still took a few seconds for a final consideration.
The wait unnerved Giuseppe. His face grew hot. A small lock of black hair broke up and fell to his dark eyebrows. His hands started to tremble so badly that the ring started to jump in a funny dance.
THREE...TWO....ONE...
One mighty roar emerged in unison from the tide of people drunk with joy. It soared into the air, welcoming the advent of the New Year.
As per tradition, a lot of colored confetti covered the sky of Times Square, painting the night like a rainbow. They went down like a rain over the crowd in celebration. On each of these small pieces of paper there were recorded the dreams, hopes and wishes for 2013 of all those people who in previous days had left a message on the Wishing Wall.
“Who knows how many of those dreams will come true and how many will stay only dreams." Jessica thought with a rush of melancholy. Then she turned to her boyfriend, swung her big sea-colored eyes, blinked her long dark lashes and slowly articulated, accompanying her voice with a nod of the head:
«Yes! I want to marry you! »
Giuseppe slipped the ring on her finger, and then he hugged her by the waist and kissed her intensely.
CHAPTER 3
«Mom, I want to go back home. I want to go back to New York. »
« We will never return to America, forget it! Hurry up and prepare yourself, or you'll be late for your first day of school. »
The alley where the kitchen window faced was brightly lit by sunlight foils. Goldfinches scattered sound trills everywhere, swarms of swallows were flying high, making somersaults and acrobatics in a pale blue sky.
Nicoletta Colasanto could not bear the beauty of nature. She closed the curtains and turned on the television.
Ever since she was just a fourteen year old girl, Nicoletta was considered the most beautiful girl in town: she had two periwinkle eyes that captivate anyone looking at them; her face was framed with delicate features in a cascade of gold-colored hairs; her sensual lips seemed to have been carefully designed.
Nicoletta felt that the monotonous life of the countryside was suffocating, so as soon as she turned eighteen, even before finishing high school, she left for the United States, filling her suitcase with dreams.
Eighteen years later, however, she had returned to her small town with a suitcase full of pain: a divorce because of the many betrayals of her husband, the failure of his journalistic career, started with great fanfare with two articles for the New York Times, but it ended with a promise never fulfilled by his boss to entrust her with a column all of her own. And above everything, Sidney, an unwanted child, the result of one too many cherries. A son who she, unconsciously, considered largely responsible for the end of her career and her marriage.
The compatriots that had seen her leave, now no longer recognized her: with the passage of time, in fact, and the emotional scars that life had dealt her, her periwinkle eyes had turned into a dull and faded blue; her golden hair with sun reflections had become a banal brown.
But, more importantly, that young dreamer girl full of lust for life was gone, giving way to a diminished woman, no more enthusiasm, ambitions, desires, too weak in her daily habits, no impulses or emotions, now emptied from that infinite inertia that eventually
infects all of us, when we are tired of losing, of falling, of taking setbacks, we resign ourselves and decide not to get up and fight again. And that inertia does not leave us again, it remains attached to us like a second skin.
«Hurry up eating! »
Sidney voraciously devoured a couple of cookies, drank a big glass of chocolate milk, took the backpack and approached his mother to give her a kiss, but she pulled back and said, stifling a yawn:
"Hurry or you'll be late." The boy fought back a tear, masking it with a smile. "See you later, Mom!"
The middle school "Michelangelo Buonarroti" stood downtown Mosorrofa, in a modern two-story building, practical and cozy.
Mrs. Ornella Casta, the math and science teacher, had the appearance of a Martian: white hair pulled back into a ball, her full-of-life eyes, always ready to jump out of their sockets, her mouth large enough to swallow a full Easter egg.
She pointed to a little boy standing next to the blackboard, where there was an inscription made with green chalk: "Second grade, section B. Monday September 25, 1994" and, with an unpleasant voice, like the croaking of a toad in heat, she said:
«We welcome a new student to our school. C´mon, introduce yourself to your classmates. »
The boy was speaking while looking at his hands clasped in his lap: «My name is Sidney Dempsey, I’m twelve years old and I'm from New York. My father is American, but my mom was born and raised in Mosorrofa, that is why I speak Italian so well. »
Sidney was a kid "out of advertising poster", he had two gentle cheekbones that were tapered into a prominent chin that made his face very peculiar and charming, but the two big green eyes and bright blond hair made him radiant.
He was embarrassed, distracted. He allowed himself to grimace. He also had his shoulders hunched. «My parents got divorced and my mom decided to return to live here, taking me here with her too. »
«Welcome Sidney» the boys shout in chorus.
The teacher took his hand. «Sit in the front row close to Giuseppe Baldini, who was the best student of the class and he will help you integrate. »