Please enjoy the following sample chapter from The Lost Pleiades: Seven Sisters and the Sibyls.
Chapter 5
The drive to Pretare is very smooth and fast. I usually love the journey from city to city when I’m in Italy, because the scenery is always so stunning. But the way Luca drives leaves little to enjoy. He is an efficient driver; I will give him that.
We slow down and find ourselves in a bit of traffic as we start to drive down the main road. There are so many people out walking towards the center of the festival. The streets are lined up with vendors everywhere. There is so much food, and so many games and toys. You can feel the joy and excitement in the air from all of the visitors. Luca pulls off the main street to a private road. He parks in an open spot, directly in front of what appears to be an apartment building.
“This looks like private property, Luca. I don’t think we can park here,” Alessia says, turning to him. Not that she needed to move her head much, she barely took her eyes off him the entire way.
“Yes, it is. It’s mine,” he says, as he turns off the engine.
“FRIEND! Why am I not surprised you have a home here too?” Stefano exclaims, as he pats Luca on the shoulder from the back seat. What does he mean “too,” how many houses does this guy have?
“Wait, are you saying this building isn’t apartments? It’s like one house? Like, your house?” Alessia says astonished. I don’t think any of us have ever seen anything so grand.
“Actually, this home has belonged to my family for several generations. My father spent many years here. He never had the heart to sell it, so he restored it and kept it as a family home. No one ever comes here anymore.”
We get out of the car and he offers us a tour of the house. Alessia does not turn down the offer, she probably wants to see what could potentially be “one” of her homes someday. He takes us through a back-service door that leads directly into the kitchen. There, we find an older couple cooking a meal that smells incredible. I suddenly feel famished.
“Signore Luca!” exclaims the older gentleman, as he cleans his hands on his apron. He smiles big and throws his hands in the air like they are old friends. The gentleman then places one hand on Luca’s shoulder and with the other, he shakes his hand, “We did not expect you to walk in through this entrance!”
“Gian Carlo, it’s so good to see you! Please, let me introduce you to my friends,” Luca says, as he introduces us one by one. Luca then walks over to the older woman and embraces her with all his might.
“Julia, I’ve missed you so much!” and he kisses her on the cheek.
“Signore Luca, it’s been too long this time,” Julia replies, and touches his face gently. In his usual gentlemanly manner, Luca introduces Julia as his second mother. You can see the pride in her eyes for him.
“Lunch will be ready very soon!” she says to us.
“I will give them a tour of the house while you finish preparing. We’ll return shortly,” Luca says to Gian Carlo.
“Where shall we set the table, the formal dining room?” Gian Carlo asks.
“No, I think we will all be more comfortable in the usual place.”
“The kitchen table it is, Signore,” Gian Carlo happily abides.
“Luca, I wouldn’t want to put them out. We can eat at one of the vendors. Really, it’s not a big deal,” I say to him.
“I called before we left, they are preparing lunch for us. It would be rude not to stay,” he says, with that smile again.
Luca explains to us that Julia and Gian Carlo are the keepers of the residence. They have been residing there for many years and have done a wonderful job at taking care and protecting the home. Luca goes on to say that he sees them as mother and father figures, as his were often not present in his childhood. The tone in his voice has no sadness about their absence. Instead, any disappointment seems to be replaced with love and respect for Julia and Gian Carlo.
“Well in that case, we wouldn’t want to be rude,” Sophia says coyly, as she grabs my hand and we walk through the hallway to the main part of the house.
“I suppose we….”- I’m speechless. I find myself standing in the foyer of the house. “House” is an understatement, it’s more like a museum. We are all astonished at what we see. The incredibly tall ceilings are covered with beautifully painted frescos - marble floors and double stairways lead to the second floor, with paintings and sculptures displayed throughout. The windows are so large and so long, they create a panoramic view of the Apennine Mountains.
“Luca, it’s nice to finally see where you’ve put all that artwork I acquired for you. It looks magnificent here,” Stefano says, pleased with himself.
“They are safe here. No one would think to look for such pieces in such a small town. For liability purposes, we feel like it was the right choice.”
As I look around, I begin to recognize some of the work. I’ve only ever seen such a collection in museums. I did not know that any one person would ever have the ability to collect this kind of historical art. This really makes the mini fridge look frivolous.
“How sad to hide such beautiful work,” I say, still in shock as I look around, “to keep something so beautiful from the world is an offense.”
“I agree. We often lend our pieces to museums and galleries around the world. We share them as often as we can,” Luca says reassuringly, as he escorts us into the formal sitting room. I notice an intricate painting that takes up the entire side wall of the far room. It’s a tree. I walk closer. I feel as if it’s almost drawing me to it. I’ve never seen anything like it. The canvas is a fabric I cannot identify, it looks like it may have been woven with gold thread, but I’m not sure. The brush strokes have a kind of vibration running through them. As I look closer, I can see that there are images painted into every branch of the painting. There are layers upon layers, it is captivating. I look for a name on the canvas - no name.
“ELI!” I feel someone grabbing my arm. “Are you okay? I’ve been calling your name for five minutes,” Stefano says to me.
“Sorry… Luca, who is the artist? I don’t see a signature anywhere,” I ask, stepping away from my cousin.
“It’s a family heirloom, I’m not sure. It’s been around forever,” he responds.
“It’s captivating, I’ve never seen anything like it. Stefano, don’t those brush strokes look familiar, but also so unique, and one of a kind?” I ask, as I put my face up to it. There it is… the vibration again. It’s intoxicating, I can feel it on the back of my neck.
“Some water, Eli?” Luca asks, as he hands me a glass of water. As I look at it, I realize how dry my throat is.
“Yes, thank you.” I turn around and make my way back to the group.
“How big is this house?” Sophia asks with excitement, as she steps out onto the balcony.
“This home used to be quite small, until my father commissioned this villa to be built forty years ago and it became all of this. He used the best architects and builders to create a home that would be worthy of hosting such art.”
“Well done Mr. Vinci, bravo!” Stefano clapped. “Your father is a genius!”
“Don’t remind him. He hasn’t been back here for twenty-six years now…” Luca replies, with a condescending tone. “The house can be intimidating. I hope you understand why I brought you in through the back.”
I look over at Alessia, who has been quiet much too long, and even she looks like she might be in over her head. She may know everything about food, but art is not her métier. She thinks museum benches are for nap time. I smile at her and she gestures at me for a glass of wine.
“Yes of course, a glass of wine, you’ll have to excuse me I’m not a natural host,” Luca says, noticing her gesture. “The wine cellar is in the basement. I know a little about wine, but I am no sommelier. How about we all go down for a tour, and maybe Alessia would be so kind as to pick out a bottle of wine for lunch?”
“Now we’re talking!” Alessia says, as she jumps out of that eighteenth-century sofa that may have been owned by Marie Antoinette herself. We take an elevator down to the basement. The moment the doors open, cold air hits our faces and we all shiver.
“The basement is actually made up of underground caves that run underneath the house,” Luca says, leading us off the elevator. “These caves are quite cold. They were built in the early 1500s. But they are the perfect temperature for wine, cheese, cured meats, and of course, preserving art,” Luca says, as he looks for the key to the cellar. I look around and notice that there are five doors, four with a sign above them that state either: Wine, Meat, Cheese, or Art. There is one door that is not labeled. I hear him unlock the Wine door and let the others in.
“Luca, what’s in there? It’s the only door without a sign,” I ask.
“You are quite perceptive. I believe it’s storage,” he replies nonchalantly, as we walk into what looks like my father’s idea of heaven.
“Holy shit!” Alessia blurts out. The cellar must be at least ten thousand square feet filled top to bottom with different wines, champagnes and liquors from all over the world.
“I’m not certain I can choose just one,” Alessia says, as her almond shaped eyes become round and huge, “This is my dream for the restaurant, wow…”
“Please choose as many as you like. It will be a pleasure to finally enjoy these.”
“Ále, don’t take too long, I’m starving,” Sophia says in a childlike voice. Thank God for this kid always being hungry. My stomach is beginning to growl.
“How about we fill a case with different kinds of wine, that way we can enjoy them this week,” Luca offers.
“Marvelous idea!” Alessia happily agrees.
“Let’s just stick to looking at the first few sections Ále, or else we’ll be here all day,” Stefano says, knowing our cousin so well.
Without any shame, Alessia recognizes several bottles and fills up most of the crate. As she ponders about which last two she has room for, Luca walks up from the back with three bottles in his arms.
“Alessia this is for you,” and hands her a bottle. Her hands start to shake with excitement.
“This is a 1947 Maison de Atienne! I didn’t even know this bottle still existed. I can’t accept this,” she tries to hand him the bottle back. It must have been a big deal if she, of all people, said she couldn’t accept it. “How do you even have this?”
“I didn’t know I had it until five minutes ago. Must not be that important,” he replies, pushing the bottle back to her.
“Are you mad! This has to be worth over $300,000!” she is yelling now.
“Oh fu-,” Sophia begins to say as Stefano covers her mouth.
“All the more reason it shouldn’t be sitting in the back of a wine cellar,” Luca replies kindly. This guy is starting to get on my nerves. Can anyone really be this hot and generous? Maybe he’s just trying to win her over. Well, I think it’s working.
He then hands Stefano a bottle, “It’s not a 1947 Maison de Atienne, but in my opinion, it’s better. It’s wine from our vineyard in France, enjoy friend.” He and my cousin share a brotherly half handshake, half hug. I mean seriously? They have vineyards that make wine for them in France? A gross example of misguided, exuberant wealth. Who are these people? Why don’t they put their money to good use instead of buying vineyards in France? We have perfectly wonderful vineyards here in Italy. Show-off. I have mentally checked out and look at my watch – it’s noon. Now I’m just annoyed and want to eat. What time are we getting to this festival anyway, isn’t that why we’re here?
“This one is for you.”
I see a dirty green bottle with no label being handed to me.
“Me?” I ask with an attitude, “Oh, I’m not really a wine drinker. The only wine I ever enjoyed was my grandfather’s wine. He had vineyards here. In Italy. In Venarotta,” I say, hoping he gets the hint.
He half smirks and says, “His name was Giuseppe? Giuseppe Tesani? Your paternal grandfather.”
“Yes, how did you know that?”
“Turn the bottle over.” I do as he says. There it is, my grandfather’s signature:
Giuseppe Tesani, 1943
My eyes well up with tears instantly. I brush my finger over his signature, I can feel the ridges from the inscription he had done by hand.
“How…” my voice cracks and I clear my throat, “How do you have this?”
“My family knew him, they said your grandfather was the best wine maker in all of Italy, maybe even the world. They would buy cases from him each year. It is said 1943 was his best, they bought his entire stock that year.”
“Ah yes, the infamous 1943 wine…” I fight back the tears as my voice trails off. Luca looks at me with pain in his eyes. He knows the real story.
“Thank you, Luca. This is extremely generous of you. I think we should open this for lunch. I’m missing him very much and I would love to drink this.”
Stefano reassuringly wraps his arm around my neck and kisses my head, as we head back towards the elevator.
^
“The food is going to get cold! Everyone to the table!” Julia says, hurrying us to sit.
“It smells wonderful,” compliments Sophia, as we all ravenously take our seats.
Gian Carlo brings a huge bowl of pasta to the table, made with tomato sauce and fresh ground parmesan cheese sprinkled on top, “Well it’s not like the food at someone’s famous restaurant,” he says as he winks at Alessia, “but we hope you enjoy.”
We all applaud the chefs and thank them for the wonderful presentation. During lunch, Gian Carlo and Julia entertain us with many stories of Luca’s childhood. They consider Luca like a son because they never had children of their own. They have lived in this home most of their lives. The Vinci family pays them to look over the grounds and home. These days, Luca’s family splits most their time between Rome and Milan. Julia said that Luca is the only one that will come to visit once or twice a year. She hasn’t seen Luca’s parents since they left Pretare.
What was just a plate of pasta turns into a three-course meal. I’m so full I can hardly move.
Luca pours the last drop of my grandfather’s wine in my glass, “It seems only right that you get the last sip. To your health,” and we toast.
“Eli, what is the story of the infamous 1943 wine?” Sophia asks. Gian Carlo and Julia shift in their chairs, and Gian Carlo gently places his hand over Julia’s.
“Did you know him?” I ask. They both look like they are younger, but close to my grandparents’ age.
“I was a boy when I first met both your grandfathers, Giuseppe and Alfredo. We later fought in World War II side by side. They were great soldiers, but even greater men.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind. I’m sure they were very fond of you as well,” I reply to Gian Carlo.
“So? What’s the story?” Sophia asks.
“Well, for the sake of time, since I really do want to make it to the festival today, I’ll give you the Cliffs Notes version,” I say casually, keeping my emotions in. The truth is, that the details are too painful and excruciating, and I could never say them out loud without completely losing my composure. “In the dead of winter in 1944 my grandmother Rosa and grandfather Giuseppe had no food and no money. My father was only a few months old. They sold everything they could that had any monetary value, but it was still not enough. The only thing my grandfather had left was the wine he had made the year before. The problem was that no one would buy it from them. They had become very thin and ill from not eating. My grandmother was boiling ice from the snow over the fire just so they could drink warm water to fill their stomachs. On the fourth day of not eating, my grandmother had no milk left to give to my father. She said her last prayer was that they would all perish at the same time to prevent the other from suffering. On that day, an “angel” appeared, that’s what my Nonna Rosa called him. He heard that my grandfather had wine to sell and wanted to buy the entire lot. When I saw this bottle today, I realized that it must have been someone in Luca’s family that purchased the wine ,” I pause. “The money they received from the sale lasted them far past the end of the war. They were able to build a proper home and life for their growing family.”
Gian Carlo’s knuckles are white from how tightly he is clenching Julia’s hand. I know from the look in their eyes, they know how much I have dignified the story.
“So today, let’s drink to this wine and the Vinci family “angel” - without either of which I would not be here today,” I raise my glass and we silently toast.
“Thank God for that Eli,” Stefano says. “Luca, looks like we owe your family one on behalf of Eli’s grandparents.”
“No Stefano, it’s quite the opposite,” he replies. Even I don’t catch what he means by that.
“Well, I think it’s time to liven things up a bit!” Alessia shouts out as she stands up, throws her arms in the air, and snaps her fingers. Leave it to Alessia to bring the party back into any situation. In this moment, I’m very grateful for it. We get our things together and thank Gian Carlo and Julia for the wonderful meal and amazing hospitality. I lean in to kiss Julia’s cheek and I notice how lovely her skin is, and that the color of her eyes is gray brown. I realize I’ve seen these eyes before. They’re just like the old man in the mountains. I look over at Gian Carlo and notice that his are the same gray-brown color too. Huh, what are the chances, three people in two days.
“Come closer, darling,” Julia says to me. As I bend down closer to her, she says softly, “Please be careful today. Do not get separated from the group.”
“Is it a dangerous festival?” I ask.
“No, it’s quite lovely. But it doesn’t mean there aren’t dangerous people.”
“Yes, please don’t worry, I will be careful,” I assure her , and kiss her goodbye on the cheek.
We walk to the festival from Luca’s house. It’s a beautiful August day, but it feels more like September/October. The sun is out but there is a cool breeze in the air. The temperature is changing all over the world now. The seasons seem to be confused and the weather is unpredictable, no matter where I go.
“Excuse me!” I hear a tiny voice trying to push through us. I look down and there’s a group of little girls of different ages all dressed up in costumes.
“Well, aren’t you beautiful. Are you all butterflies?” I ask.
“No!” they giggle, “We’re faeries!”
“Are you going to come watch our play?” asks the older one.
“There’s a play?”
“Yes, right over there,” she says as she points to the main stage. “It’s going to start in a little bit.”
“Ok good luck! I’ll be watching.” I wave at them as they scurry off. As I take a moment to look around, I notice that there are children dressed as faeries everywhere I look. They are wearing long white flowy dresses, flowers in their hair, and faerie wings. Even teenagers and some adults are wearing faerie wings, almost every vendor is selling them.
We make our way down to the main stage and find a place to stand. There are hundreds of people waiting around to watch the performance.
“This is the best part of the festival; you’re going to love these kids!” Luca shouts. It’s hard to hear over the music and people talking.
“How about a beer?” Stefano suggests. He and Luca walk down to the vendor to get us beers.
“Yummm, can you smell the peanuts and cotton candy?” says Sophia, “Can we get some?”
“Sure, but take Alessia with you, I don’t want you to go alone,” I suggest to her. Her brother is overprotective, and the last thing I want is to be responsible if anything happens to her. You know, like a cut on her knee. “I’ll wait here to hold our spots.”
I look around at all the little girls in their whimsical faerie outfits and my mind starts to replay Aunt Silva’s words. Could there be truth to what she said? But that would be absolutely inconceivable. I don’t think my mind has the ability to expand to that capacity. It’s too out of reach even for someone like me, who believes anything is possible. I suppose somewhere deep inside of me, I always suspected that magical creatures could have been real at some point in history. And like dinosaurs, they just became extinct over time. The indisputable difference is that we have fossils proving dinosaurs once roamed the earth. There is no evidence that magical people ever did. There is also no evidence that they didn’t. Once again, I am standing at that impasse - how do I believe in something I cannot see? It’s been nineteen years since that day on the plane. And it bothers me to my core that I’ve made no progress on this dichotomy.
“Signore! Signora! Signorina! Please take one!” My thoughts are interrupted by a shouting teenage boy wearing a vintage herringbone Jaxon hat, long-sleeved white shirt, charcoal grey vest, and black trousers. He hands out brochures out of an old newspaper satchel. As he passes one to me, he tips his hat and winks flirtatiously. I take the brochure and gently tap him over the head with it. We both laugh and he moves onto the next pretty face. These Italian boys, they really are charismatic. The men pass it on to their boys every generation, and some things never change. I should know, my very first heartbreak was at the hands of one of these charmers. I open the brochure, on the left is the weekend’s line up of various local bands and times for the theatrical performances. On the right is a brief description of the festival, it reads:
Welcome to Faerieland! August 15th and 16th will be filled with entertainment and magic, as we evoke the Legend of Faeries on the Feast Day of San Rocco, our patron saint. Please join us for the beautiful and original theatrical presentation that recalls the story of Sibyl and her faeries. The reenactment will bring us inside Sibyl’s cave as Guerrian Meschino goes on a quest to find his brother…
My reading is interrupted by a familiar scent. Milk, honey, lavender, and moss. I look up and notice a very well-dressed woman standing next to me. She is holding a delicate umbrella made of silk and lace, just big enough to keep the sun out of her face.
“Excuse me madam, what is that perfume you’re wearing?” I politely ask, as I lean in to take another inhalation of this intoxicating scent. She gently moves the umbrella from her left to her right shoulder as she turns to address me. I freeze as she looks at me. She is the most STUNNING woman I have ever seen. I am at a loss for words. I’ve met a lot of beautiful people in my life, but no one has come close to this. She is magnificent. She looks like a painting - she doesn’t seem real. Her skin is smooth and flawless. Her eyes are both tender and dangerous. They are brown and hazel green, the color of moss. I notice she has a small freckle in her left eye. She is tall, slender, and very feminine. Her lips have a natural lining with just the right amount of fullness. Her nose is small and thin, with a slight point at the tip; I bet those Beverly Hills doctors would do anything to get results like that. Everything about her looks delicate and refined. It takes, utterly, all of me not to touch her to see if she is real, or if I’m hallucinating again.
“It’s my own blend. I mix the oils myself,” this divine creature says to me with a soft and slightly smoky voice.
I stand there like a fool, overwhelmed by her presence, and unsure of what to say. I have never been so intimidated in all my life.
“Are you well, dear?” she asks, as she looks at me, a bit concerned. She has a strange accent. I can’t really make it out, maybe a bit of Italian mixed with Middle Eastern and British?
“Y-,” I clear my throat a few times, “Yes, fine thank you,” I manage to stutter out, “It’s a lovely scent.”
“Thank you, I love your scarf,” she says, and I feel flattered. “Is it your first time here?”
“Yes. Yours?”
“No, I come every year. I live nearby, it’s a favored festival in these parts.”
“Are you from here? I couldn’t help but notice your accent,” I can’t resist asking.
“No. I was born very far from here. Then raised in Jerusalem. I came to Italy as a young woman and I’ve never left,” she replies in her sultry voice.
“I hear an English accent as well.” I know I’m pushing my luck, but I can’t resist, she is fascinating.
She smiles an enchanting smile - it reminds me so much of my grandmother - and says, “You have a very good ear. Many of my teachers were either British, Latin, French, or Greek, it must have stayed with me along the way. I can hear that you have a slight accent of your own. American?”
“Yes. Well, I was born here, but we moved to America when I was a little girl. I live there now, I’m just here on vacation,” I reply politely.
“How long will you be staying?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Hmm…” she ponders, “Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Yes, I forget how much I miss being here,” I reply. I put out my hand to introduce myself. “I’m Eli, by the way.”
She slowly raises hers and embraces mine. The vibration of her touch is exhilarating . It is like two circuits that come together to create a surge of pure energy. It is as if I can feel the beginning of life traveling through my veins. It frightens me immensely; it is both beautiful and terrifying. I pull my hand away quickly but calmly, trying to regain my composure.
“Enjoy the show, it’s very entertaining,” she says, as she gestures to the stage with her closed fan that had been hanging from her wrist, “You’ll learn a lot about this place. They mostly have it wrong, but it’s still enchanting.”
I look up in the direction she has pointed to. The show is about to begin. I look back to thank her but she is gone. Her scent lingers, I can still smell her. And apparently so can Luca.
I hear Sophia and Alessia behind me, walking up the hill, when Luca grabs my arm and pulls me off to the side, out of the earshot of the others. He’s so worked up he nearly spills his beer all over me and himself.
“Eli, why were you here alone? Did someone speak to you? Are you ok?” he asks, almost out of his mind.
“Luca, what’s wrong?” I ask. He’s usually so in control and poised.
“Please answer my questions,” he says with about all the nerve he’s got to keep himself calm. I can see Alessia looking over at us with a tinge of jealousy in her eyes.
“Yes Luca, I’m fine.” I try to calm him down, but he maintains his agitated state. He doesn’t pay any mind to Alessia or anyone else for that matter.
“What is this about?” I ask, annoyed.
He takes a deep breath, waits a moment and says, “You answer my questions first.”
“Yes, I spoke to a lovely local woman. I loved the scent of her perfume and asked what she was wearing. We had a small conversation and she left,” I say, trying to reassure him, so he will leave me alone.
“That’s all? Nothing else?” he presses.
“That’s all.” I sigh and continue, “She was captivating. I wish I had an ounce of her beauty. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be so…”
“So, what?” he looks angry now.
“Invisible,” I say softy. I can’t believe I said that out loud, especially to him. Why am I feeling so vulnerable? He shakes his head in disbelief and still looks angry.
“Eli, I’m not about to get into that with you right now,” he replies sharply, “I need to know if anything else happened. Did she ask you any questions? Did she touch you?”
“We shook hands when we… actually, I never got her name.” Huh, that just occurred to me, I was so enthralled with her, I didn’t even ask her name. I look back at Luca annoyed at all the questioning. “Listen, I’m not playing this game with you, Luca. What the hell is your problem? And just so you know, this is not a good look for you. Alessia has been glaring at us this entire time. You’re going to ruin your chances with her.”
Luca looks me dead in the eyes and takes another long deep breath. He then takes a step into my personal space and hands me one of the drinks. As I take it from him, he carefully places his hand over part of mine. Before he says a word, I feel it again… the surge, the electricity. This time it starts in the core of my spine, and slowly, I feel it spread throughout every ounce of my body. The electricity is increasingly stimulating, and my body feels like it’s on fire. This is very different than the last one. I GASP. I am trying pull my hand away, but I literally cannot move. It’s as if he has a complete hold on me. I look down and see his hand is just barely touching mine.
“Eli, we need to leave. I can’t explain why right now, but you need to trust me. Let’s go,” Luca orders. Despite his warning, I can’t contain my defiance to his demands. Here it is again, another man in my life that wants to control me. This one isn’t even my boyfriend. What is it with almost every man in this world thinking they can just dictate orders at women, and we’re just supposed to obey and follow commands. I’m done with this, no more!
I feel anger rise from my navel to my throat and just like that, the hold he has on me vanishes. I pull my hand away. Luca looks more astonished than I do, that I am able to break free of whatever nonsense that was.
“Enough. I’ve had enough of this. If you want to leave be my guest, I’ll find my own way home. I am going to stay, enjoy the show, drink a beer, and eat peanuts. I’m sorry if that doesn’t work with your commands. I’ve come here to learn something about the place I just learned my grandmothers are from. Like it or don’t like it, it’s all the same to me.”
For the first time in my life I push back, and it feels SO good.
I walk back to the group, who are focused on the show that has just started. I wedge myself between Alessia and Sophia.
“What was that about?” Alessia asks, in a very aggravated tone.
“Keep your boyfriend in check Ále. I’m not in the mood,” I reply, with disdain for her tone.
“He’s not my boyfriend. Even if he did give me a $300,000 bottle of wine, I can barely get the guy to look at me. Maybe he did it to impress you,” she says with a sigh. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think he likes you!” She is half smiling as she sticks out her tongue at me.
“You’re insane!” I reply, and the three of us have a good laugh. We put our arms around each other and continue to watch the show. The cast is mostly children, teens, and a few young adults. The details in all the props and in their ethereal costumes are so beautiful. The colors are various shades of soft pastels. And there is an abundance of glitter and sparkle to catch the light just perfectly.
The play of “Il Guerrino Meschino” (Wretched Guerrino) is based on a book written by Andrea da Barberino in 1410. The story itself takes place in the year 842. Guerrino is a slave-born hero who emerges from his circumstances strong and unshaken. After several dangerous adventures, he discovers he is of a royal bloodline. He seeks out to find his parents. As he crosses the mountain pass above a small village called Norica, he encounters the devil who’s playing the role of a pimp. The devil tells him to find Sibyl, because she is the only one who knows his parents’ true location.
According to folklore, Sibyl, also known as The Eleventh Sibyl, is a virgin prophetess who can read the future and see the past. Guerrino seeks her out in hopes that she will give him answers. Sibyl was once God’s favored oracle, but after a falling out, He condemned her to live in the Apennine mountains until the end of time. To find her, Guerrino must locate the bowel of the mountain known as the “Mouth of Inferno,” in order to get access to the grotto. There, he discovers her kingdom with the help of a talking serpent called Macco. It is a paradise protected by dragons and surrounded by the “Sibyl gold,” as well as precious jewelry, various treasures, and Sibyl’s faeries. The faeries would capture all of the knights, promising them immortality and a salacious life.
Sibyl welcomes Guerrino in, listens to his requests, and endeavors to tempt him into corrupting, sinful acts. She is described as the “inaccessible virgin who became seductive, impious, and greedy.” But the brave and chivalrous Guerrino spends a year resisting all temptation. He has to find a way out, because no one can stay more than three hundred and sixty-five days. If he were to, he would lose his soul and become a prisoner in her kingdom forever. Instead, he manages to escape and find his parents, securing their release from prison where they were being held captive. He then marries a Persian princess and lives happily ever after.
The end.
At the end of the performance everyone applauds with an endless amount of enthusiasm, while shouting and tossing flowers onstage.
“That must be one of the only stories in history, where a man is the main character of a happily ever after faerie tale,” Sophia says.
“It’s like he was both the damsel in distress and the hero of his own story. Seems both sexist and empowering. I have mixed emotions about it,” Stefano expresses.
“You get that it’s not a modern story, right?” Alessia teases him.
“It was during a time when men had to literally fight for their lives to overcome the adversity of their nascency. Has this not fundamentally carried into modern times?” Stefano confidently states.
“One point for my brother and zero points for you, cousin,” Sophia high fives him.
I look over at Luca, he’s doing the same thing he’s been doing for the last hour - looking around obsessively. It’s like having an agent from the secret service around. I want to ask him what’s going on, but I’m still much too angry. Sophia sees me looking over at him.
“Stefano, what’s going on with Luca? Why is he acting paranoid?” she asks.
“I’ve been trying to get it out of him, but he won’t budge,” he replies, and tries to act like we’re not talking about it. “He mentioned that he saw an old foe earlier. It got him wound up pretty tight, there must be some bad blood.”
“A wealthy family like that must have a few enemies,” Alessia muses.
“They are very careful with their affiliations. His father runs a very tight, exclusive group. And they are an even tighter family. Mr. Vinci has always treated me like a son, but even I only know about one percent of their dealings. Our family may have secrets, but his family is very private,” Stefano admits.
“Is there a difference between secrets and privacy in our family?” I ask him.
“No, not anymore,” says Alessia.
“Look at that sunset!” We all look as Sophia points to the west. It is breathtaking. It looks like a million orange, yellow, gold, red and blue crystals piercing into the sky and through the heavens. It’s descending behind a marvelous mountain top. The entire mountain is a blanket of bright and beautiful flowers all around it. It is by far the most magical thing I’ve ever seen. There is a part of me that is in disbelief the world does not yet know that such an enchanting place truly does exist. And there is an even greater part of me that is terrified that they will. I pull out my phone to photograph it for my own memory, when I feel someone behind me.
“It won’t translate well in photographs. If you take a picture it will just look like any other sunset with pretty flowers. They only bloom from early June to August. There are over 1,800 different kinds of flowers that grow here. It’s best to enjoy it, it will only last a few moments,” Luca says. Well, well… looks like someone is thawing out and returning to his old self.
“What is that mountain called? It looks like a dream,” I ask Luca, wanting to forget our little “episode.”
“Monte Vettore, also known as the ‘King of Sibillini.’ It is the most striking mountain of all the Apennine mountain range; maybe even in the world. Just below the peak there is a small enclosed valley with a lake called Lago di Pilato. Legend has it that the body of Pontius Pilate was buried in those waters after he was sentenced to death by Tiberius,” he says, as he now has our full attention for the geography and history lesson.
“Who or what is Sibillini? I’ve always wondered why the national park was named that.” Sophia asks curiously.
“Sibillini is the area of the mountain group that borders Umbria and Marche. Those mountains are mostly composed of limestone. They formed fifty to one hundred million years ago at the bottom of what is now an extinct sea. The land itself emerged about twenty million years ago. The highest peak can be reached at Monte Vettore, over eight thousand feet up. Making it the King of Sibillini,” Luca says so proudly of his historic and beautiful town.
“Sibillini sounds a great deal like Sibilla, which translates to Sibyl. Luca, is this terrain actually named after the legend in the play?” I ask, then like a train, it hits me, “If the mountain is the king, then she is the queen.”
Oh my God, how did I not see it sooner, this entire festival is in honor of her! Alessia and I lock eyes. This must be why my mother demanded we turn around and go back. There’s clearly something about this story she doesn’t want us to know. What would Celestial Beings have in common with Sibyl and her faeries, anyway?
“Is it possible, by any stretch of the imagination, that Aunt Silva wasn’t joking about being magical ?” I ask her.
“Of course she’s joking!” shouts Alessia. “I’m a magi? I mean, I would know if that were true! Such BS!”
“Does someone want to fill us in, we’re feeling left out?” Stefano asks, throwing his hands up.
I shift my attention to Luca and demand to know, “Why did you bring us here today?”
“Eli don’t be rude to him. He has been nothing but hospitable and generous with his home and time. What has gotten into the two of you today! I’ve never seen you act so… strange,” Stefano says to us, in a very upset tone.
“Maybe he’s been too nice,” I reply, as I step into Luca’s personal space.
“What are you suggesting anyway? Luca is not someone who has ulterior motives,” Stefano says this time defensively. “Is someone going to tell us what’s going on?”
“Yes, I’d love to know that too,” Luca says, while never taking his eyes off mine. “Let’s not do this here. How about we go back to my house?”
“Losers, are you kidding me! Why are you all so much drama? The music is so good, and everyone is finally dancing and having fun! That’s what we are supposed to do at a festival: F-U-N!” Sophia is starting to have a slight meltdown. “Do you even know what that is anymore? It’s not even late, and there’s like five guys I want to talk to!”
I don’t know what it is about this place, but it gives the women in our family the strength to speak our minds. Even the sweet, shy ones. We all stand in silence for a moment. Sophia is not an outspoken person and we’re all taken aback.
“She’s found her voice,” chimes in Alessia. Thanks for the obvious news flash.
“I choose dancing too. Come on, Sophia!” I say and I grab her hand, as she jumps around with excitement and we waste no time sashaying to the dancefloor. I don’t know what’s come over me. I can’t explain why I’m feeling so rebellious. But I let Sophia and Alessia lead the cavalry tonight.
We dance. We drink. We talk to boys. We drink more and more and more. And we even dance together to the very last song. Before I know it, Luca and Stefano have come to whisk us up off the dancefloor. I kind of forgot about them, I hadn’t seen them all night. But I’m sure they had used their secret service agent skills to spy on us.
“What time is it?” I ask, as I stare at my own watch. “I can’t see where the hands are. They keep moving. Time doesn’t work like that, right? Or did it change? It’s too hard to tell time this way. I’m sure you k-know the president of clocks or something… can you ask him to umm… change it back.”
Luca can’t help but laugh. Stupid, gorgeous, beautiful white teeth smile. Why does he bother wasting it on me anyway, I think as I squint at him.
He leans in to catch me when I move away. “Don’t touch me. That thing. I don’t want that thing. Happen again.”
“You’re swaying, I just don’t want you to fall,” he says, trying so hard to hold his laugh in.
“Alessia will hel-pp me. Where is she?” I ask him, as I look around. At a near distance, I can see her throwing up behind a tree. Next to her is Sophia – also throwing up. And above them is Stefano holding back both of their hair. “Oh damn! Are they-y-y drunk?” I ask and begin laughing.
“Frankly, I don’t know how any of you are still standing,” Luca replies.
“Frankkkly,” I mock him, as I wag my finger at him, “Why are you so p-perfect? It annoys the shit out of me!”
“You think I’m perfect?”
“No. I never said that.”
“You just did.”
“I hate that you’re so rich, you know? It’s gross. What does one person or f-family do with all that money? And you’re so beautiful. It should be illegal that any man be that beautif-,” I pause a moment because my stomach feels queasy.
“You ok?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say as I move my wrist around to keep him at a distance, “I mean… in allll the books and alllll the movies and the other stuff too, why does the girl always fall for the rich, good-looking guy? It’s, umm, so cliché. So stupid. Why does he always have to bbe rich and handsome? And like SO cool,” I ramble on, as I roll my eyes. “Why can’t he be like… average and average? Right!” I say, with absolute conviction.
“You think I’m cool?” he asks, unable to hold back his chuckle.
“No,” I say shaking my head, “Oh. I shouldn’t do that.”
“Do you want to sit down?”
“That’s another thing! Why are you alwayyyys soooo polite? Is it real? I just don’t believe anyone stays… mannered so well. Like that. For-ever.”
“Eli, how about we get back to the house. Stefano and the girls have already started walking back.”
“Finally you said. Something. Smart.”
“Yes, finally,” Luca shakes his head laughing.
With each step we take to his house, my stomach gets more and more upset. I start to sweat and begin to feel so sick.
“How much longer?” I ask, “It’s undignified to be sick… out. Here.”
“Uh-huh, and I’m the snob,” he says taunting me. “We’re standing at the door.” We walk in and I can’t hold it anymore. He rushes me into the nearest bathroom and holds my hair back. I’m sick for what feels like an eternity. And I can’t stop crying. I cry uncontrollably every time I throw up. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been this way.
“Did I just throw up in a gold toilet?”
“You did.”
He gets me up to the sink where I rinse out my mouth a few times, and then he helps me lay down on the cold marble bathroom floor. I’m trying to soothe myself and stop crying. The cold floor feels good and it’s helping.
“Why do you have a gold toilet? There are children starving in the world. That toilet can feed at least a trillion of them,” I say, blubbering through my tears.
“A trillion only?” Luca asks, as he puts one towel under my head and hands me the other.
“Yes, at a minimum.”
He sits behind me with his back against the wall as I do my best to calm myself. I hear a soft tap on the door and my cousin Stefano’s concerned voice.
“How’s she doing?” he asks Luca.
“It might be a long night. How are the girls?”
“Knocked out. Gian Carlo and Julia helped me put them to bed. Good thing they were there to meet us at the door as we arrived. Or else it would have been a whole different scene when you walked up. Julia just gave them some Potiodamus. She said it would help,” he sighs. “You know, those two are really strong for their age. They lifted up those girls like they were light as a feather.”
“How about we get this one up to bed,” Luca suggests. Stefano offers to help, but Luca tells him he can handle it himself.
“I’ll meet you in the drawing room for a drink in ten minutes. Don’t worry, I’ll have Julia take care of her.”
Stefano seems pleased with the plan. He tells Luca that in the meantime, he is going to call our family and let them know we will be spending the night here, and not to wait up. I hear him walk out of the bathroom as Luca shuffles his arms underneath my body. He places one arm under my knees and the other holding my back. He lifts me up and holds me tightly against his chest. We enter the elevator and he presses 3. How many floors does this bloody place have?
My thoughts are interrupted and my mind goes vacant. And before the elevator doors close, the center of my spine feels as if it is on fire. There it is again… that sensation… but this time it’s stronger and deeper. I can feel it in the core of my soul. I have no strength inside of me to fight it. I let the electricity flow through my body like water running down a violent stream. I have no control, so I surrender. I feel a vibration in the blood of my veins, the same way I did when I was standing in front of the painting. I can hear my heartbeat so loudly in my ears - then I hear two. I can feel it happening to him too. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and my legs around his waist. I can feel my body melting into his. He has his arms around me so tightly, it feels as if he might crush every bone in my body. And it feels so good.
I close my eyes and lay my forehead against his. I can hear our heartbeats gently slow. One beat at a time they move closer together until our heartbeats are perfectly in sync. I can no longer tell where I end and he begins. There is no skin, bones, or blood between us. A singular thread of electricity flows through us as one entity.
The euphoric cord is injected with erratic flashes. Events of history, different spectrums of time, people and places from all over the world. Then a flash of blinding light. I feel Luca kiss me with a passion and rage that should have frightened me. But I welcome it. As our lips touch over and over, more erratic flashes fill my head. This time with people and places that seem imminent. It looks like… the future? Once again, there is a bright flash.
“Young man, have you gone mad!” Gian Carlo yells at Luca, as I find myself being torn from his arms by Julia. We are standing in a bedroom. I have no recollection of how we got here. The last memory I have is of going into the elevator.
“What have you done, Luca? You know there will be severe consequences!” Julia panics, as she has me sit.
“I KNOW!” Luca shouts, “I’m sorry - I know. I don’t know how it happened. I was just carrying her to bed. I-I…”
They begin to whisper – it sounds like some kind of plan. Gian Carlo and Luca leave the room abruptly. I cannot keep my eyes open. I am totally drained and can no longer feel any part of my body.
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