Farewell, My Loves Read online

  Salerno had been vulnerable to attacks being a coastal city. Food had been scarce at times, but Gio fiercely provided for me during it all.

  A few years back, we had snuck out to play after our mothers had ordered us not to be anywhere outside. Unbelievably hungry, we couldn’t move much without feeling like we were going to faint. Gio decided to boldly steal food and cigarettes from American soldiers while they were distracted playing some kind of sport they kept knocking each other to the ground for, but he got caught.

  They decided to give him the ration he wasn’t slick enough to get away with, but they made sure to pick on him first, wanting to see him actually smoke the cigarettes he was stealing from them.

  Not one to back down, Gio lit the cigarette and toked on it for the first time like he knew what he was doing, and of course, choked on it in a coughing fit.

  He must’ve been about nine years old at the time.

  They were laughing amongst each other at his expense when I burst out crying from behind the tree I had been hiding. He was only trying to feed me; I hated seeing that he was in trouble for it.

  They all straightened up from their group hazing and pulled their weapons forward to check out the noise. When they approached me and saw that Gio was getting upset he couldn’t reach me as they were holding him back, not needing to speak the language they put two and two together and let him go with a harsh shove in my direction.

  Victoriously, he held up a bag full of bread, cheese, a can of meat, butter, and managed to keep the box of cigarettes, too. And because he didn’t like the way he got sick from smoking it, he sold them. When he saw that he could make decent lira off of selling the nicotine, he began his first business. He improved his methods of stealing and would sell the cigarettes at a significantly lower price to ensure that people would look for him when they needed them. Gio would make a pure profit from it, using his money to help contribute to his household and kept some means to spend on us.

  Now that he was eleven years old, cigarettes were a staple in his diet. Sometimes, he’d even share with me if I really begged him to, though he wasn’t very happy to do so, not wanting me to get addicted to the habit like he did.

  But whatever I wanted, Gio gave me, and whatever Gio was interested in, I wanted to be a part of it, so smoking was a vice I began to do at an early age too.

  We reached the crumbled building and had collected some sticks and leaves on the way, but our adventure was thwarted by an occupant already there.

  Bianca De Luca was Salerno’s strega. She read your palms, tea leaves, tarot cards, and pretty much anything her clairvoyant eyes could lock on.

  Her husband died during the war and her son had never returned after he joined. For the most part, everyone thinks he died and was never found. Bianca always seemed like a quack before, now she was entirely loony. No one wanted to talk to her; they shunned her when she rambled, and just flat out ignored her presence. Losing the two men in her household, along with her craziness led her to become homeless. She begged and tried to sell her fortune-telling to soldieri who would humor her, but really, the only way she’d been surviving had been through garbage picking and stealing.

  I think it’d been over a year since I’d last seen her and her eyes looked even more demented than ever. Her face was gaunt and she was incredibly dirty. She looked every bit pazza that she was known for.

  I wanted to get the heck away from there upon seeing her, but Giorgio had a different idea.

  “Signora De Luca, come va?” he asked how she was doing.

  “Bene, Giorgio Antonio. As good as I can be. What do you have on you, ragazzo? I know your questioning doesn’t come with genuine concern.”

  He laughed because she was right. He was never nice to people unless he’d planned to con them out of something.

  “Va bene, signora. I have some cigarettes.”

  “How many?”

  “How many do you want?”

  “What do you have in mind, and don’t waste our time. Bambina over there is trembling away.”

  Giorgio looked over to me. He made a face communicating I should calm down, but I couldn’t. No good ever came out of Bianca De Luca’s mouth. Either she was bitter she lost everyone, or everyone really was doomed.

  “Tell us our fortuna. I want to know when I am getting out of this fucked-up country and when I can expect to be rich,” he states.

  I gasp and shake my head no! No, thank you. No, no, no!

  I’d rather go home. There’s a reason our mother’s never let us near her in the past, I didn’t want to be near her now.

  She cackles, “Give me those cigarettes first, you disillusioned child.”

  “Fortuna first, or nothing. I know you, gypsy,” he warns.

  “Let me light one while I read. It’ll help clear my head.”

  “You better not be messing around with me, strega. You’ll be sorry if you think you can fool me.”

  “Zitto, malvagità! I know what runs in your blood! You know what runs in yours, too! You just want to confirm it since you struggle to keep it at bay—trying not scare away your bambina! Now give me a fucking cigarette.”

  Gesu Cristo! She called him wicked! I knew she was insane!

  “Gio, let’s go. Give her the cigarettes and let’s just go, please,” I beg him.

  “Gianna, I want our fortuna. She’s not getting cigarettes for doing nothing. Now settle down and listen.”

  “No! Please! I don’t want mine. I’m great without it, really.”

  Bianca starts laughing. “Oh, bambina, you just don’t know. I think it’s best you do find out and run very far away for your own good.”

  “No, no! Really, just Giorgio’s,” I insist.

  She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders as if to say ‘suit yourself’, but it scared me she knew he called me bambina.

  It didn’t leave me any room to deny she knew things.

  “Vieni qui, ragazzo.” Come here, boy.

  He holds out a cigarette and she snatches it out of his hand and lights it at her fire. After a few deep inhales, she walks back to him and takes his hand but stares at me while she reads aloud.

  “You are darkness, ragazzo. You won’t live as long as you thought, but you will amass the money you maliciously chase, though you won’t have the riches that should come in life. You’ll go after it all until you have it all—but you’ll never have a single thing. One day, Moretti, you’re going to snap like a brittle stick and because you’re depraved, you’ll make sure the only good thing you have is taken out with you.”

  Ah dio! I. Am. Horrified.

  I can’t believe how terrible his fortune is!

  She has to be lying. She’s mean and hurtful because she’s bitter. I can’t believe her.

  “Giorgio, let’s go home now! She speaks nonsense!” I cried.

  But he wouldn’t move. It was as if she’d frozen him in place. I imagine he was in shock from such an ugly future he had been painted. I rush over to them to grab his arm to drag him away, when she snatches my wrist and jerks me toward her.

  She leans into my face, peering maniacally into my eyes and whispers fervently, “Miele is going to stick to you, you won’t be able to get it out from under your skin. It will seep so deep into your bones whether you like it or not, and just when you think it’s safe to let it, is when you’ll suffocate from it! MIA! MIA! MIA! The mark will be seen and there will be no hiding it then!”

  What the hell?

  She started crying, freaking me out even more than I thought I could be.

  Then she tried to make a cross over me and I’d had enough. I yanked my arm back and pushed her away from me.

  I turned to Gio who was staring wide eyed in complete shock, grabbed his hand and hauled us out of there fast, unable to bring myself to care that we left our bags behind.

  All I wanted was a lot of distance from her.

  We ran for what felt like miles before we started to slow down. I never wanted to see Bianca De Luca i
n my life ever again.

  Catching our breath we finally looked at each other and collapsed to the ground laughing hysterically, looking just as possessed as she did.

  “What the hell was that?” Gio panted.

  “I have no idea! She’s lost every marble,” I gasped.

  “ ‘You’ll be rich, but you won’t’...what kind of mockery was that?” he asked.

  “I’ll never know. She made no sense at all! ‘Honey is sticky.’ Well, of course! And the lunacy of her screaming ‘mine, mine, mine’ over and over. I hope she tells better fortuna for the soldieri or she’ll be real sorry!” I laughed.

  “You don’t believe it, do you?” he asks warily, grabbing my shoulder to get my full attention.

  The worry etched on his face sobered me immediately.

  It was very unlike Giorgio to lack any confidence.

  Grabbing his hand and squeezing it, I tried to offer him comfort.

  “No way! None of her ramblings could be true. She’s crazy! She was just being cruel.”

  But I didn’t know if I believed that myself.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he agreed, squeezing my hand back, “It couldn’t be true.”

  “Don’t let it bother you,” I told him, though it did me.

  He puffs his chest out in renewed confidence. “You know that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right?” he asks me in all seriousness.

  Answering him in all honesty, I tell him “Of course, Gio. I never doubted it.”

  There is nothing in this world like the life of a happy childhood.

  Time has no measure.

  Actions don’t have much consequence, and mama can make everything better. The only worry day in and day out was to figure out the next fun thing to do.

  God, the trouble we sometimes got ourselves into were some of the best memories of my life.

  At fifteen and eleven, Gio and I continued to be inseparable.

  With the years quickly passing by, Giorgio maintained his seriousness and his family was still suffering over the absence of his father, but we did our best to cheer them up and keep them company.

  One evening the families were gathered, our mamas had baked amazing treats for everyone but as usual, I ignored them all for the cannoli. Those were my absolute favorite. Mama dipped the edges in chocolate, mixed the ricotta filling with chocolate chips and dusted the chocolate-covered edges with chopped pistachio pieces—like I loved.

  We were all in the living room listening to my babbo play his accordion, when he finished his piece and told us all to hold on a moment and stepped out of the room.

  He returned with an acoustic guitar I’d never seen before and walked right over to Gio and handed it to him.

  “Signore Alessandro, what’s this?” he asked my babbo, holding it away from himself in confusion.

  “This is yours, ragazzo. I spoke with Domenico recently. He mentioned he had a gift for your belated birthday and needed me to retrieve it. Practice every chance you get and you’ll play nicely in no time,” he explained.

  Gio’s usual poker face expressed a myriad of emotions.

  It was stunning to see him openly express his joy when smiles were rare on him.

  He struggled to maintain his composure and managed to croak out a thank you. He missed his father and this rare and precious gift coming from Domenico took him by surprise.

  “Go ahead now. Go outside and make your ruckus out there. The adults need to talk and don’t need you kids interrupting.” Babbo shooed us out.

  We hadn’t even questioned the fact that only Gio and I were told to get out of the house and not any of our older siblings.

  Too excited over the new guitar, it was the perfect distraction for us not to notice.

  Outside we jogged for a couple of minutes to reach the walking trail from my house that led up to our tree.

  A Siciliano must have transplanted the Chestnut of a hundred horses tree here, making it the only one of its kind in Salerno, because it was native to the island.

  With such a wide bark, it looked like it was made up of several barks bound together and it shaded a vast area.

  We spent countless days there climbing it, eating our lunch on any one of the wide branches, or simply hanging out there to be away from everyone else.

  We frequented it so much, it felt claimed.

  As we settled in and Gio started plucking a couple of strings on the guitar, we couldn’t stop laughing over how terrible he was!

  I knew it was his first time even holding the instrument but I couldn’t help relish his bashfulness over not being able to master it on his first try. He was used to being great at everything else he ever did; this was fun to see.

  I was looking forward to watching his progress and knowing I’d be the only one to ever get to see this softer, more vulnerable side to him, and I couldn’t wait to hear all the songs he would learn to play, I was already thinking of a list for him I wanted to hear.

  Two days passed since our guitar night under the tree and I hadn’t seen Gio, I wondered what he’d been up to.

  At first I thought he was embarrassed he couldn’t play well. I was going to find him and assure him he could make all the mistakes with me, I wouldn’t tease him anymore if he was going to be that sensitive.

  But I came to realize instead he’d been purposely avoiding me!

  I went to his house when he hadn’t shown up that morning to collect me with an itinerary he would have for us, but Chiara said he was at his cousin Benito’s house, which I found unusual because Benny was only five years old and Gio didn’t really spend time with little kids now that he was fifteen.

  Then the following day when he hadn’t shown up again, I went around looking for him. I tried his friend’s house first.

  Usually whenever I didn’t feel like tagging along with Giorgio, he would be with his brother, Matti who was three years older than him, but Matti had a job being eighteen already. So if not with his brother, then he would be with Fabrizio. But when I went to Fabrizio’s and he told me he hadn’t seen Gio all day, I began to worry something was wrong.

  Immediately I headed to our tree.

  Many conversations and secrets were shared under the shade of that tree.

  Gio had to be there if he was troubled.

  And there he was with his back to me, his shoulders shuddering a few times. I watched him silently for a moment and thought maybe he was ill, but that didn’t add up.

  “Gio! Where have you been? I’ve been bored out of my mind these past two days and I made a list of songs I want you to learn on your guitar, your mama said you were at Benny’s but you told me last month he was annoying for not wanting to play anything other than with his train set and Fabrizio hasn’t seen you all day so where have you been?” I asked without a breath in between.

  “Gianna, go away,” he said in a pained voice.

  Right away my skin began to crawl with worry.

  Giorgio never cried.

  “Gio, what’s the matter? Did your nonna die?” I whispered.

  I couldn’t imagine anything else making him this upset.

  “No. But I need to be alone. Go away,” he said, still not facing me.

  “No,” I told him stubbornly.

  Whatever it was, he was going to share it with me and we were going to figure it out together.

  “What are you doing to our tree anyway? Where did you get that knife?” I continued to fire off questions while I got closer to see what he was carving.

  “Go away!” he yelled, startling me.

  This was not like him. Not when it came to me!

  It only fueled my curiosity even more, so I pretended to be resigned with his demand and started walking away backwards.

  He looked over his shoulder to make sure I was really leaving and I saw the tears in his eyes making me uneasy.

  As soon as he turned his head back to the tree, I ran back to him and pushed him out of the way to see that he carved out a lopsided heart with �
�G & G sempre’ inside of it.

  I was so confused I couldn’t help laughing out loud, wondering what he was crying over. Though I was incredibly thrilled over his carving, him being upset wasn’t making any sense to me.

  “Gio, this is perfect! We should’ve branded our tree years ago... but why are you sad?” I asked softly while tracing the ugly heart with my finger.

  When he didn’t answer me I turned around to look at him, seeing his beautiful face twisted in heartbreak and my stomach flipped, dread settling in heavily.

  “What is it?” I screeched in a panic.

  “Gianna, I have to... I have to leave!” he got out through his struggle to not cry in front of me. But his tears won, making him turn away from me so he could wipe them.

  “Leave where? Gio, please. You’re scaring me! Talk to me!”

  “I have to leave to America this Monday,” he said with his back to me still.

  “Oh. Okay, isn’t that good? You’ve always wanted to visit! How long will you be on holiday for? I’m going to miss you, that’s for sure,” I rambled on, not realizing his agony paired with the significance of his statement, didn’t bode well.

  “No, Gia, it’s not a holiday. I’m moving away. Babbo’s arranged for us all to move to New York.”

  New York? What was he saying?

  What does he mean he’s moving to—

  No.

  Nonononononono!

  NO!

  I couldn’t have heard him correctly.

  I tried to speak but my eyes filled with tears so fast and my throat got so tight, I couldn’t utter a word past the large lump that settled heavily there.

  The longer I stood in denial and watched his misery play out in front of me, the harder it was for me to even breathe.

  “No, Gio... you’re playing a terrible joke on me. Don’t say that to me,” I managed to say in a choked voice.

  “I wish I was, bambina,” he said in a pained whisper.

  Finally, the tears I tried to deny, the words I didn’t want to believe, and the hundreds of thoughts that went with realizing he was leaving weighed down on me and I broke down, dropping to my knees and poured my heart out in the first agonizing cry in my life.