All In Mid-August

by Nunzia Castaldo

  ***

  Emiliana

  August 9, Tuesday, 15:00

  At sixteen opened the gates. Emiliana was ready an hour earlier. It is always prepared in advance if exaggerated the situation to deal with worried. She wanted to avoid as much as possible the condolences, but his intention is not realized. She knew that today would suffer. In the meantime she tried to distract herself by playing the classical guitar tuning pegs from mother of pearl . Grant, itching, misrepresent, the very relaxed. She opened the score and followed the score. The fingers were running alone. The mind, too, ran for similarity. She had failed the entrance exam to the conservatory. Now, after the thirty, she understood how many hopes of youth had gone out already. The professor did not keep looking at considering its quality. Syncopated treble at the twelfth fret vibrated from the soundboard. She wondered whether the presentation of a teacher trainer had favored. Not had it. She could not afford it. It was destiny for her to face life without external aid. She dumped the strength of cross-rhythms. She still had fluency in the fingers minute. She had learned to do it alone. She preferred to show safety, always, and decide for herself. She was reserved and respectful. His demands were mostly disregarded or evaded. All was clear, now, that had not existed for many teachers that had occurred in the classroom. Meanwhile, the romantic melody of the Barcarolle broke the silence of the attic. His achievements were the result of tenacity, the will to do well, the affection of her grandmother Emilia and the good of mother Mary. Only his family had never failed to lend support. Now, however, his loved ones were gone, she was left alone to deal with existence. She had built a life from nothing more than the desire to be that you had. Had presumption, yes, but in the rightness of his ideas, and conviction, but in the moral principles that sought to put into practice. She produced the right notes harping with dexterity. She was uncompromising, even if his future was at stake. This was his fault, not made friends so easily, he knew. She was always alone. Now she passing to beat the bass strings. Reached the final of the first part. Memories and considerations were flying on the wings of music soloist. His character was like a cocktail ill-tempered. She had taken his grandmother stubbornness and arrogance, the mother altruism and generosity. Different lifestyles are difficult to bring together within him. Emilia had a good education. She had lived among the important inventions of the electric light, the radio, the automobile. Born at the beginning of the twentieth century had breathed the joy of social expectations. Grandmother was born and remained for ninety years on the hill of Posillipo. She loved her city, Naples. It was the place "Ro munno beautiful jug" (the most beautiful in the world) said. Then she could no longer live there, alone. Emiliana ended the song. A thick silence filled the attic. Emilia does not forgive that he had never left his home. Mary really looked after with utmost dedication, but it was not enough to console her. Then he began his end. Emiliana started playing. She executed, in mind, a "whim". They finished the forces of Mary. The cancer began to devour her and forced her to leave her mother in a nursing home. The cost him more pain than he already suffered. Did not give peace. Emiliana plucked the strings. Emilia died just three months later, Mama Mary, three after her. Complex rhythms and vibrated penetrating the glass. She was alone, stunned by the hurricane that had fallen on her small family on her. She was not ready to see her disappear around the world. Its roots had been severed forever. Now, with the last chord in the fingers, struck a blow on the chest resonance with the knuckles of his right hand and let the sound fall. She stood, motionless. Tears slid from her cheeks to the tip of the nose to the chest on the ropes. They fell on the instrument. He was crying for his loved ones. She grieved for herself that she was the only one to remember. Their affliction, she had lived all over, until the last drop of pain. His sentence was still vibrant, inexhaustible. She wiped his eyes with the back of the hand and then crawled onto the ropes without articulate it. She knew it was from morning that had fought against the thoughts of pain and death. The time now is difficult to stop the flow. She put his left foot on the stool better. Pose of the new hammer toes. Sounds improvised flamenco and images chased each other in his head. She saw the grandmother. She gripped her elbow, bend over, the stronger the checkout. She heard the shrill scream of time, infinity. She saw her curled up in bed, legs and arms contracted, lying on his side, his eyes wide and staring, her chin trembling, did not recognize. She varied the melody. She improvised a mishap. She called. The legs were trembling nerve. The heart was beating too fast. "Grandma I am, are Emiliana "She jumped in and stopped screaming." Emiliana, you're, well, I'm not afraid." After the delirium took it for many days, so many nights, even medicines could calm her down. She inserted an arpeggiated passage. Tears brimmed her eyes once again. Emiliana experienced his utter helplessness. Now, the memory made ​​her accuse a rush of pressure. The head was taken to sway, the panting breath, chest compressing. The lack of air. The stability of the guitar away from his chest and right forearm, was not. Now the image that is in front of his grandmother in the hospital. She did not speak. She did not recognize anyone. Yet Emiliana did not want to lose confidence. She moved rapidly along the left hand on the handle of ebony plucked notes. Wait for an answer from the doctor of the department. "The grandmother is healthy as a horse, only that his brain has come to an end." Just as he said: "His brain has come to an end." The left foot slipped from the small stool. Emiliana had been brought up to have respect for the elderly.

  In the words of Dr. routine she had caught, and quickly enough. Emilia was transferred to the nursing home. The right hand lost its firmness over the strings, error. Did not play the desired note. Shooting with a slow, adjust. The accommodation for the elderly had few attendants busy, grumpy, restless. The reception room furnished with tables unadorned, was crowded with patients. In a wheelchair , approached at a table with his head bent , swayed to one side. Dormant. The melody began to vibrate acute in the attic hot, sunny position. Emilia, however, recognized her and spoke to her for the last time. The chin quivering, his eyes dull: "Did you see how I reduced?" Pause fourth moment of silence. Emiliana had never cried in the presence of strangers. She did that day. For shame hid her face in her purse. She tried his handkerchief .

  The attendant looked at her. How to explain who was Emilia and how important she was to his old love? Impossible. She moved his wheelchair down the hall, she wanted to bring her home with him. Then the visiting time was over, he had to leave. Grandma died in silence, not long after. Improvised high-pitched sounds heartbreaking. Broke the harmonious flow of simple melody. Fought for the last time the case. She followed the funereal silence. It was time to go up to cemetery. She put the guitar in the sheath.