Salvatore: A Retelling

“Well, well, look who it is!”

I saw his back first. He had lost much hair. Crumbled paper around the room made it look smaller, yet bigger than I had seen it last.

“Pardon me, but I can’t recall who you might happen to be.” He looked… what do you call it? Puzzed? Pulzed? I guess, English just continues to be tough. Framing it in my terms, it was the kind of face you’d make when you feel the boat going down, unsure still; it might actually be waves.

“Ah, blame my age. You can’t really ‘recall' my 23^rd year when you see me again in my later. Look at my eyes, Will. What you knew, knew the ocean best?”

It was dawn in still night that made his eyes sparkle.

“You see, I’m still not good at remembering faces but eyes, and they’re last I choose to look at. They stay with me when they’re sad.” He looked away. “Yes, I’m guessing it’s 40^th?”

“Ha-ha, you too? Valentine says I look more to be in my 48^th when I don’t shave.”

“He must be old enough to help you around now.”

“Moltissimo! Valentine is twenty-five now; Maximus, a whole five years to adulthood. Those boys never let me work.”

“You should really leave it to them now. Don’t let the soreness take too much of you.”

I smiled. You really did forget me right, William. Or was it ever you saw me?

“Your story, William, about me, I read it.”

“And?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Everything is beautiful to you, isn’t it?”

“Everything is beautiful. Well –”

“Salvatore,” he gripped my shoulders. I wondered if papa felt a similar hold, that day when I told him it’s okay, that I was going to be alright. “Normally, I would have accepted that your abrupt arrival had only to do with appreciating my attempt. What is it today?”

“I heard you were going some place new?” I didn’t quite understand some words he said.

“I have lived and breathed Vesuvius for too long. Is there even after here?”

The fruit had dropped. There was no way I was winning against him.

“Even, if you find it. At least take some burnt dirt with yourself.” He accepted my gift with a smile that said he was expecting it.

“I always wanted to know you better, Salvatore. Maybe that’s why I wrote about you. Writers can look better into people when they make them play a part. And even before I realised, you were out in the big crowd. Look at you now, so much more than a just a fisherman.”

“Look at all of us, Will. We’re all fisher people, but much more, catching swarms of satiation, with baits all individual. “ My vision blurred as I took his hand in mine. In my grainy, scarred palms, cupping it was like caging sand in your fist. “Arrivederci, Will. I’ll need to take leave. Valentine will scold me if I stay out for long.”

 

“You took longer than I thought you would.” She was leaning on the wall a few metres away from Will’s door. She would have been successful in hiding herself in my blind spot, if not for the sudden call.

“Doing Valentine’s duty, are we, Serafina?”

“Do you really think big brother would keep his calm after knowing that you just gave it away?”

I sighed. “Right, let’s get home.”

 

Today, home smelled of tomato and herbs. Valentine had his long, oily hair slicked back and a ribbon went around his neck and waist. Alternately, there were sounds frying, sizzling and clinking of spatula. Maximus was dropped something in hot oil, splattering it all over the stove, as well as on Valentine’s pink shirt. It was the first time I realised that Maximus was quite taller than Valentine. Assunta was sitting on the head chair, breathlessly laughing. Whenever I looked at them, I couldn’t help but relax. My sweet family.

“If it isn’t my favourite!” Sera exclaimed.

“What, the food or the apron that you made for me?” Valentine smiled back at his younger sorella, who was gripping onto his sholders. “As for that, I wear this so that I do not get my clothes dirty, Max.”

 “If that’s actually a problem for you, Mr. Master Cleaner.” Max rolled his eyes, while hitting the spatula against the pan, tossing some vegetables. “I wonder if Alessa would actually appreciate it.”

“What was that?” Valentine yelled. Assunta broke into laughter, wiping tears off her eyes; Serafina followed, and then did Max.

“You actually said it out loud.” Assunta said, the joy still tinkling in her voice. As the moon shone like a pearl in birth in the lightless floor of the sea, the scar on her cheek became a mark filled with mild lightening.

“So, I am the only one here who doesn’t know who Alessa is.” Yes, I was anoyed annoyed.

“Dr. Alessa looked after us militants in the service. Despite being young at medicine, she had great knowledge. But she left the camp after two years when her brother lost his leg in the war. Then, when I came back from war two years back, we met again. In fact, she was the one who gave me this new arm. After that, I was introduced to her again, as the head of our forensic team. She is the one who takes a physical examination of the human and animal bodies we retrieve and also helps us get an insight into their health problems and cures.” The spatula was now kept next to the stove, burning in low flame, simmering and adding flavour to the soft beans.

“And Miss Alessa has proposed marriage to you?” I asked.

“It was me.” He said. “And she said yes!”

Assunta smiled at me. Our kids have grown so much, it said. Yes, dear, they have.

 

Dinner was very joyful that night. As I entered my room, I saw Assunta smiling at a book.

“I’m so happy for him.” I said, sitting down on the bed with one leg folded in front, other still down.

“Yes.” She said, retaining her bright face. “It’s been a long day, you should rest now.”

“Isn’t Alessa Ms. Irene’s daughter?”

“Yes! She was such a little girl when we met her last. Didn’t she hate Vale back then?”

“Don’t forget their grand wedding by the seaside!”

“Oh, yes! How can I! I was honoured to have seawater in little seashells for the favours!” Assunta laughed as sweetly as she always did.

 

As I thought of Alessa, an image of Irene flashed in the back of my eye. Despite not having met her for years now, my memory of Irene was as fresh as a dawn. She would perhaps be 48 or so now, but I still remembered her as an eighteen year old maiden, who would often look upon the sea, with my hand in hers. She had an air of elegance, and eyes that were always full of a sap forestry of love; a forest that grows out of the ocean and takes its colour. I was madly in love with her; maybe still am. Because Valentine says that you can never un-love  a person you truly loved, and I think that’s accurate.

It was the summer of 1918 when I first saw her. She had started a business of home decorating and had childishly requested mama and papa to let her design ours – you see, people didn’t take it that seriously back then. And she had made a masterpiece out of our little cottage: with green and purple vines climbing up our white walls, planks of shades lighter than those fencing them. Almost magically, what she did made our home suddenly look so bigger that I actually considered if she had rebuilt the house. And that was the ice-breaker.

“Ms. Bertoni,” I shyly walked up to her as she was drawing little patterns on the wall. “Thank you for taking such hard work on your shoulders. Your work on our cottage is magical.”

“No worries, Mr. Casagrande! I enjoy doing this work.”

Upon hearing this, I was both impressed and shocked.

“I understand that work enjoyed becomes easier, still, building homes all over again, that too not on a virgin land, must tire you. Especially when you don’t get enough pay for this enormous labour.”

“Huh? Building? Over again?” She stared at me for some time, then burst into laughter. I realised I had said something stupid, but I didn’t quite understand what was it that I said was wrong. You can’t possibly make a house bigger without rebuilding it. My face was probably red in that course, but I didn’t know how to react. My hands, too, were awkward, so I just toyed with the ring I wore on my right index.

“What you said before was actually right. I’m rather a beautification magician. Everything I touch is turned into something beautiful. And well, I have my own tricks. Close your eyes.” She said, an excited smile sparkling her face. I did as she told me to, then there were sounds of things being dragged and things being placed back.

“Open them.” She put her arm around my soldiers. I felt really strange, like a drop of stomach? No, more like something heavy dropped on the stomach. When I did, the room had turned smaller than it was before the renovation.

“Don’t worry,” she laughed. “I’ll make it bigger again. But before that, I’ve never known what happens to things that are already beautiful, when I touch them? Do you know?”

“Umm, I don’t think so…”

“Let’s try then.” She gently took my hand, and cupped it in both of hers. “So that’s the trick.”

“Um?” I said. That feeling from before was all the more powerful now. The weight was making my knees melt and I was just delving in that quicksand of embarrassment.

“The things most beautiful never lose it; but share it with everyone around them. They continue to shine in glory, forever, still giving fragments to the seekers wholeheartedly. This is what happens when you touch things so beautiful. You yourself become so much more beautiful.” What she said to me were the most fascinating words I had ever heard till then. She was indeed a magician.

 

To be continued...