A Decent Family by Rosa Ventrella

Author:Rosa Ventrella [Ventrella, Rosa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542004435
Published: 2020-05-31T22:00:00+00:00

PARADISE ISN’T FOR EVERYONE

20

For several days, I avoided meeting Michele. I changed my route so that he wouldn’t find me. I left early and stopped to admire the sea, the seagulls that flew in the blinding light of early morning, the blue line of the horizon. But I couldn’t rid myself of the thought that I had been too harsh toward him. I thought about our conversations, his timidity, and, above all, the fact that, in the end, he was the only friend I had. So I made an effort not to think of anything, to concentrate eyes and mind on an indefinite point in the sea, to feel happy with that. I spent the afternoons at home studying, for the sake of Mamma and Papa, causing them no worry. I recited the Latin endings in the bathroom, and at night, in bed, I studied in depth the first chapters of the Divine Comedy, I strove to get good grades even in math, and I continued to indulge my passion for history. When I finished my homework, I crept into the cellar, with the excuse of putting away a bottle or looking for something, and caressed Papa’s books. He didn’t read very often now, and the paper was yellowed and dusty. Sometimes I took out my old friend Zora. I admired her on the cover, let my fingers run over her flowing blond locks, but I stopped at that. Something kept me from reading her libidinous adventures again. But even though I tried to keep busy and avoid thinking, I missed Michele. Inside, I was restless and nervous. I was afraid that all that inner turmoil would sooner or later make me explode. One night, I was even sure that I saw the ghost of Aunt Cornelia sitting at the head of my bed. I had cried for a long time, burying my head in the pillow, and she had leaned over to kiss my swollen eyelids.

“Now I’ll tell you a love story,” she whispered, examining me carefully with her big doll’s eyes. She had braids, just as Mamma had said, and was wearing the polka-dot dress.

“Once upon a time, there was a very tiny girl. She went unnoticed, and since she saw that she was invisible to others, she ended up convincing herself that she really was. She passed through the walls of houses, entered through locked doors, had the insubstantiality of air, the lightness of breath. She listened to everyone’s business, the vexations of the neighbors, the comments of the old men sitting at the café, the obscene remarks of the fishermen at the pier. She heard and registered everything. She was invisible, but her head had a weight of its own, a special intelligence. Sometimes she wondered what to do with all that useless talk she had accumulated by always listening to others.” These were stories of my mother’s, and in the dream Aunt Cornelia reported them in detail. “One day, she was wandering among the market

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