Tarantella: A Love Story

by Siomonn Pulla

  “He has changed. You’re right. We’ve all changed. Its been a hard few years and it’s going to stay like that for a little while still, until we can get back on our feet.” To my surprise, Carmella reached across the table and took my hand, sending shivers up my spine. Her skin was as soft and warm as I imagined it would be. “I understand you’ve been through a lot and I’m grateful that you’re here for Marco. That he has a good friend he can lean on. Just remember if you need anything, or want to talk about anything, I’m here too.” Under her deep olive complexion, I could see her starting to blush. “Sometimes you need a woman to talk to. Someone who’s more sensitive and thinks differently than a man. You’re in a new place without a sister, or mother, or girlfriend to talk heart to heart with. I want you to feel comfortable with me Pietro. To know that I’m here if you need somebody to lean on. Non scherzo!”

  “That’s very kind of you. I really appreciate the gesture.” I was convinced my heart was going to burst out of my chest. It was beating so fast. “So was there something you want to talk to me about?”

  “Remember what we chatted about last time, just before Christmas?”

  “I mentioned it to him the other day. Suggested he play it cool and enjoy this new opportunity to get to know you again.”

  “So what did he say?”

  “He laughed and said I was a genius.”

  “Did he agree?”

  “He thought it was an excellent idea and told me he didn’t want to screw up his chance to be with the only woman he’s ever loved.”

  “Typical Marco. Sometimes I wonder if he actually believes himself.” Carmella sighed and shook her head. “I wish he wasn’t so dramatic all the time. It gets tiring.”

  “I can assure you he really means what he says.” Part of me agreed with Carmella. But Marco was my best friend and I felt obliged to stick up for him. “He really does love you. He’s a very lucky man.”

  “Non Lamento! I don’t want to complain. I just feel so comfortable talking to you about this. You’re a good friend. Now you should get going. I’m sure they’re waiting for you to get busy on this tractor project. Did that truck from San’Angelo ever work out?”

  “I don’t know what Marco was talking about. He never mentioned it again. I don’t think there ever was a truck in San’Angelo.”

  “That’s strange. Why would he lie to me like that? That’s not like Marco at all.”

  “I can’t figure it out either.” I got up from the table and kissed Carmella on both cheeks. “I better get going. We’re planning on hauling an engine out of an old army truck down in Accinni’s olive orchard. But first we need to clear it of land mines to see if it’s any good. We’re working out a strategy today.”

  “Be careful! Fatti vivo! And don’t tell Marco we had coffee. He’ll get jealous! It’s our secret.”

  “I like secrets.” I kissed Carmella politely on both cheeks as we said our goodbyes. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  It was hard to leave her in the cafe, but I knew that I couldn’t fall in love with her. Infatuation was manageable. But falling in love with was a lot harder and, as I later found out, a lot more dangerous.

 

  Chapter Thirteen

  Roma

  We left the comfort of Don Alexandro’s country estate early one morning, piling into Carlino’s small fiat. The plan was to drive south towards Rome on the back-roads through Tuscany. Carlino was going to drop us off just outside of the city limits and we were going to hitchhike our way east to Monterotondo and then through the mountains to Campobasso and finally to Limosano. There were apparently a lot of resistance fighters in the hills and mountains east of Rome.

  Don Alexandro gave us two Beretta pistols with enough ammo and rations to last a few weeks in the mountains. He also gave us the name of a contact in Rome who he said would look after us for the winter if we decided we didn’t want to freeze to death in the snow-covered Apennine Mountain passes.

  It was hard to leave the prospect of spending more time in the luxury of the Tuscan highlands, surrounded by the beauty of that rolling landscape and the enchanting shyness of Don Alexandro’s daughter. If Marco hadn’t been so infatuated with Carmella, I think he most likely wouldn’t have been so eager to leave. I know I wasn’t. The latest intelligence reports from Don Alexandro’s men noted a very strong, and aggressive Nazi presence in Rome.

  “You guys are lucky. I’m surprised Don Alexandro let you leave like that. He’s been recruiting a lot of men into the resistance lately. We need all the help we can find.” Carlino was munching on one of the sandwiches that Maria had given as we left that morning. “He must’ve really liked you.”

  “Of course. What isn’t to like about us?” Marco asked rhetorically. “We’re smart, handsome and snappy dressers.”

  “You know you’re crazy-crossing over the mountains in the middle of winter,” Carlino answered matter-of-factly. “It’s a death wish.”

  “I still think we should go to Rome first,” I suggested non-committedly. “It’s risky, but Don Alexandro said there is a strong group of partisans in the city that could use our help.”

  “It’s too dangerous. We’ll end up back in Milano, this time in body bags,” Marco replied convincingly. “We’ve come too far to risk that.”

  “Vincenzo Baldazzi will look after you,” Carlino advised knowingly. “He’s very trustworthy and has many safe places throughout the city.”

  “But we can’t just walk into the city and ask for Baldazzi.” I wasn’t convinced that going in through the gates of Rome and asking for Baldazzi was going to get us very far. “Who’s going to trust us?”

  “If our intel is right, the Allies are building their forces south of the city at Monte Cassino. They’re also going to land a few divisions north at Anzio. Rome will be next,” Carlino explained thoroughly. “So if you sit it out, it’ll only be a matter of time before you’re back on safe ground again.”

  “But if the American’s bomb Rome, we could end up in the rubble,” I protested. “Maybe we’re better off in the mountains.”

  “Where you’ll freeze to death,” Carlino snickered. “There’s no real safe place right now my friend.”

  “We’re soldiers,” Marco reminded all us, as if somehow we’d forgotten we were at war. “We’re trained to survive the elements.”

  “Fuck. Quick,” Carlino exclaimed with conviction, his gaze returning to the road from the car’s rearview mirror. “Get those guns in the back.”

  “Damn.” Marco turned around to look out the back of the small car. “Nazi Officers.”

  Marco handed me one of the pistols from the backseat.

  “What’s going on?”

  I quickly grabbed the Baretta pistol and turned around to sees two German Officers on motorcycles quickly flanking our small fiat.

  “I hope you guys are a good shot,” Carlino mumbled loudly as he sped the car up. “You’re only going to get once chance.”

  The little fiat was no match for those German BMWs. It was only a matter of seconds before the two officers were shouting at us in Italian to pull over to the side of the road.

  “Anytime now would be good,” Carlino suggested calmly. “What are you waiting for?”

  Marco and I rolled down the windows in the fiat, gesturing at the soldiers to indicate that we understood what they wanted us to do.

  Marco pulled the trigger first, planting a bullet right between the edge of the Officer’s helmet and his goggles. The other officer, seeing the gun I had pointed at him, tried to slow his motorcycle down, but he was too late.

  “Well it’s about time,” Carlino sighed deeply. “I thought I was going to have to shoot him myself.”

  Carlino pulled the fiat over to the side of the road. Marco was the first out of the car, running over to make sure the two officers were dead.

  “Good shot Pietro,” Marco beamed proudly after examining the bodies thoroughly. “I’m going to have to take you out hunting pheasants when
we get back to the village.”

  “Que Fortuna,” Carlino marveled happily after examining the two BMW motorcycles. “These look fine. A few scratches but nothing serious.”

  “Come and help me Pietro,” Marco encouraged me enthusiastically as he busied himself undressing the dead bodies. “This afternoon we’re going to enter Rome in style as Nazi SS Officers. ”

  After a brief struggle with the still warm bodies, we managed to get the uniforms and boots off the two soldiers. It was a cold morning so we undressed quickly. Luckily for us, the two Germans were about our size and height so the uniforms fit almost perfectly.

  “You guys look pretty scary,” Carlino whistled loudly. “You better be careful or you might get shot by one of Baldazzi’s men.”

  “I always wondered what it would feel like to be a German Officer,” Marco pondered out loud as he buttoned up the officer’s overcoat and placed the motorcycle helmet onto his head. “So far I don’t like it.”

  “It feels dirty,” I offered honestly. “I wonder how many good soldiers these men killed.”

  “You shouldn’t have any trouble getting into Rome now,” Carlino got back into the fiat and turned the ignition. The little car coughed a few times and belched black smoke out of the exhaust before the engine started to whine. “I guess your decision has been made for you.”

  “Hopefully we’ll be able to make our way over the mountains from Rome quicker now with these motorcycles.”

  I pulled one of the BMWs up right off the ground and straddled it before kick-starting the motor. The German engine purred to life like an eager mare ready to canter.

  Marco loaded the gear from the car onto the motorcycles.

  “When you get to Rome, find Baldazzi,” Carlino reminded us. “Leave the mountains till the spring. Baldazzi will look after you. Tell him Don Alexandro sent you. Those two go way back.”

  “Thanks for all your help Carlino.” I offered. “We couldn’t have gotten here without you. Drive safe back north. It looks like there are some Nazi patrols out on the road.”

  “Lets get out of here before we have any more visitors.” Marco was sitting on his motorcycle with the German officer’s goggles secured tightly on his face, the engine of the BMW purring softly underneath of him.

  “Good luck,” Carlino sat in the fiat watching from the side of the road as we drove away. “And make sure you check out this little restaurant in Trastevere, Spirito Di Vino. I guarantee they make the best pasta diavolo you’ll ever eat.”

  That was the last we saw of Carlino.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mi Amore

  “Come on Carmella. What’s the matter? I don’t understand all these mixed messages,” Marco confessed, the strain in his voice evident. “Can’t you see I’m really trying here.”

  “That’s the problem. You’re trying too hard. You need to give me more space. “ Carmella asserted confidently. “You’re too clingy.”

  “More space? Haven’t I given you enough already?” Marco cried. “One year wasn’t enough?”

  “You scare me, “Carmella replied honestly. “I don’t know what happened to you in the war. But its changed you. You’re not the same person you used to be.”

  “My love, we’ve all changed. These are hard times,” Marco continued more gently. “It’s only going to get better. That I can guarantee.”

  “I just wish you were more like Pietro. He listens to me. I feel like I can talk to him.”

  “Come here.” Marco held his arms out and Carmella reluctantly accepted the embrace. “We’ll get through this. We’ll figure it all out. Just tell me what you need. “

  “Time. I just need more time. I want us to take this slow.” Carmella nestled her face into Marco’s chest. “I want our first time to be magical.”

  “Va Bene. No problema.” Marco pulled the love of his life deeper into his arms. “How’s the wedding planing coming along?”

  “It’s on hold.”

  “What do you mean on hold?” Marco abruptly broke their embrace, putting his hands on Carmella’s shoulders. “I thought we agreed Easter?”

  “This is exactly what I mean.” Carmella complained, stepping away from Marco. “What’s the rush Marco? Are you afraid I’m going to fall in love with another man and leave you?”

  “Don’t play with my heart Carmella,” Marco warned seriously. “One thing I learned from the war is to live each day like it’s your last. You never know when death may come looking for you.”

  “Well maybe this is going to be our last day together.”

  Carmella quickly walked away from Marco down the cobblestones and up the short flight of stairs leading into her house, slamming the door shut behind her.

  On the street, Marco watched her leave stunned, a tear falling from his eye, wondering how the only woman he’d ever loved could walk away in anger from him like that.

 

  Chapter Fifteen

  Baldazzi

  It didn’t take long for Marco and I to make our way through the outskirts of Rome and into the city center.

  It was a good thing we stopped with Carlino where we did because only a few miles away a handful of German infantry were dug into positions guarding the gates of Rome, like soldiers from long ages past.

  Driving into Rome on those motorcycles dressed as German Officers was as frightening as it was exhilarating. While there was definitely a strong Nazi presence in Rome, people went about their business as best they could. The rubble strewn streets were a constant reminder that we were still at war. A war that didn’t seem to have any indication of ending soon.

  All the angry and scared looks we received from Italian citizens confirmed that our attempt to imitate SS Officers was working.

  Considering the sheer number of German troops in the city, we decided, at the last moment, that maybe it was a good idea, after all, to seek out Baldazzi.

  Marco and I both agreed that Baldazzi could probably help us find the best route through the mountains. And the prospects of heading up into the snowy mountain passes on motorcycles started to feel less and less appealing as we drove through those narrow roman streets trying to find Baldazzi’s hide-out.

  Luckily Marco was able to get directions from a very reluctant young woman. Unfortunately, he had to threaten to take her in for questioning if she didn’t give us precise information on how find the address that Don Alexandro gave us.

  It turned out Baldazzi’s place was located in Trastevere, far outside the inner city on the west bank of the Tiber River, and south of the Vatican City. In ancient times this Roman district was the quarter for sailors, foreigners and the wares of a certain merchant class. After all those years, Trastevere was still a maze of ancient narrow streets and interesting shops where you could buy anything for the right price. It seemed a fitting place for a resistance stronghold.

  We made our way down via Trastevere, which was the wide and busy thoroughfare that acted as a boundary between the central and the southern part of the district. People scattered quietly in every direction to avoid us.

  Following the directions Marco extracted from that poor lady, we made our way past piazza Belli and the Anguillara and down the narrow street via della Lungaretta. Marco turned left at the end of the street onto an even narrower lane, vicolo dell’Atleta.

  “There should be a small alley down here,” Marco pointed down the empty lane that ran between the old houses. I never got tired of seeing the layers of history in the Rome. Every building seemed to have some kind of story “She said it’s really easy to miss.”

  It matter of seconds we were surrounded by three men dressed in black who were pointing riffles at us and speaking in German.

  “Don’t shoot,” Marco exclaimed in Italian, putting his hands into the air. “We’re really not SS Officers, Don Alexandro sent us.”

  “How did you find us?” The man who seemed to be the leader gestured with his rifle for us to get off our motorcycles. “How do you
know Don Alexandro?”

  One of the men searched and disarmed us while the other disappeared down the lane with the motorcycles.

  “Don Alexandro gave us this address,” Marco sputtered nervously. “He said we should speak to Baldazzi - that he’d help us.”

  “Help you do what,” asked the man who was searching us. “What do you want?”

  “Give us a safe place to stay while we’re in Rome,” I replied confidently. “We’re here to help.”

  “Blindfold them and bring them to Baldazzi,” ordered the leader to the other man. “And kill them if they make any sudden move.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Il Malocchio

  Marco stood shivering on the steps of La Stregha Vechia’s house. After knocking for a third time the door creaked open and the witch’s gnarled faced peered through the small crack that appeared between the two worlds.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” the Witch croaked deeply. “What do you want?”

  “My money back,” Marco answered with conviction. “You ripped me off. I should’ve never listened to that old man. He was probably working for you. How does it work? Do you give him a cut of your profits? Is he your lover?”

  “It doesn’t work that way.” La Stregha Vechia chortled cheerfully. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into do you?”

  “I don’t care. You ripped me off. I worked hard for that money.” Marco asserted. “I want it back.”

  “What’s the problem?” The witch peered intensely at Marco, sizing him up from bottom to top and then from top to bottom. “Can’t get it up? I can give you a potion for that.”

  “Your potions are the problem.” Marco spat. “They don’t work.”