Stella Mia (10 page)

“May I ask what your name is?”

“Sarina. And yours?”

“Carlo. Where are you from, Sarina?”

“I'd rather not say.”

Carlo nods his head and looks off to the surf. He then asks me, “How long have you been in Taormina?”

“A month and a half.”

“You are here all alone.”

“Yes. The gypsies who live in that large red tent by the Vulcano Cabana have taken me in. They taught me how to read cards so that I could make a living.”

“I see.” Carlo's face looks pensive, but he remains silent.

“Thank you again for helping me. I should probably make my way back toward the tent.”

“Are you here every day?”

“Yes. I also go into the village once a week and do readings in the piazza. But some weeks I don't make it up there. It depends on how much money I've made the previous week and if I can afford the fare for the aerial tram.”

“I will most certainly see you, if not here on the beach then in the village. Maybe I will come for a reading, but I will pay. I insist.”

“Va bene.”
I begin packing up my things.

“Let me help you.” Carlo closes my beach umbrella and folds my table. “Surely, you don't lug all of this stuff back to the gypsies' tent? That's quite far off.”

I gesture with my head toward the beach umbrella shed that I had found that first night after I met the gypsies. “I store them in there. The man who rents the beach umbrellas and chairs doesn't mind. I actually bought this umbrella from him.”

“Well, let me carry them back for you.”

Carlo places the folded beach umbrella under his arm before grabbing the table and chair. He walks quickly through the sand as if he is carrying only one object.

When he returns, he asks, “Can I walk you back to the tent?”

He sees the hesitation in my eyes.

“I just would feel better knowing you were safe even though I'm sure that coward Rinaldo is long gone by now.”

I look around on the beach. It's still quite vacant. “All right.”

We walk slowly. I love staring at the ocean as I stroll along the beach. Listening to the sounds of the waves and the seagulls has always soothed me. If I lived on the beach all the days of my life, I would be content. Unlike Rinaldo's, my goals in life are simpler. I just pray to God to keep me and my family safe so that I can see them again someday. I also ask God to give me enough money to sustain me. Well, I do ask for a little extra money so that I can bring it to my mother when I am able to. Closing my eyes, I fight back the tears that threaten to overtake me as I wonder when I will see Mama and the little ones again. When I open my eyes, I see Carlo staring at me. His eyes look sad, but thankfully he does not ask me if anything is wrong.

We are about thirty feet away from the tent when I stop and say, “Thank you, Carlo, but you don't need to walk me any farther. I'll be fine from here.”

“
Ciao.
I will look for you again so that I can get my reading.”

I laugh.
“Ciao.”

Carlo smiles and waves to me before walking off. I watch him. The sea breeze blows his wavy hair lightly to and fro. His physique is lean but solid. He looks about 5'9” tall. He felt taller standing next to me, but at my stature of 5'2”, almost anyone feels a lot taller. I make the sign of the cross and say a quick prayer, thanking God for letting Carlo walk by on the beach when Rinaldo attacked me. A shiver runs through me as I contemplate what almost happened.

“Sarina! I was about to come looking for you. Why is that towel wrapped around you? Did you go into the water?” Maria comes over to me, concern written all over her features. She tries to put her arm around me, but I step back, remembering how I was almost raped and how she insisted on my wearing those low-cut dresses.

“Leave me alone!” I walk around Maria and head toward the tent. But she follows me.

“Sarina! Please! Why are you so upset? What is wrong?” She catches up to me and reaches for my arm, trying to stop me. Instead, she pulls at my towel by mistake, and it falls off my shoulders, revealing my torn dress.

“
Dio mio!
Who did this to you?” Maria grabs me by the shoulders, looking into my eyes.

“You did this to me! You insisted I wear these dresses. Now I know why most of my customers have been men. I was almost raped this afternoon, and he accused me of prostituting myself to all the men who have been coming for readings. You encouraged me to use my beauty to my advantage.”

“Sarina, I had no idea this would happen. Do you really think I would do anything to harm you? We've only known each other for a short time, but I already think of you as one of my own. I would never let any harm come to you, just as I wouldn't let any harm come to my own children. Taormina is very safe. Nothing like this has ever happened here. Please, believe me.” Maria's eyes fill with tears. I can see she is being sincere, though I still feel like the need to make as much money as possible was foremost in her mind when she bought those dresses for me.

“I don't know if I can keep doing this, especially after what happened today.”

“Sarina, you have a gift. I know it hasn't been long, but I have watched you when you give your readings, and you not only read the cards but use your intuition to feel the situation. Please, don't let what happened today influence you. I will ask Gianni or any of the other men to always be nearby when you do a reading, and I forbid you from doing any more readings during siesta. The beach is too quiet then. No wonder this happened. Have you seen this man who attacked you before? Gianni and the other men will find him and give him a good beating. He'll never bother you again. Trust me.”

“No, I never saw him before, and don't worry. He already got a good beating.”

“You hit him?” Maria asks as she looks at my petite frame, incredulous that I could have done much damage.

“No. A young man saw what was happening and came over to help me. His name was Carlo. After he was done beating my attacker, Carlo told him to leave Taormina and never come back. Apparently the man who attacked me had worked for Carlo's father and stolen from him. So Carlo knew him.”

“What did this young man who helped you look like?”

“He had wavy dark blond hair and green eyes.” My face flushes slightly as I remember how handsome Carlo was.

“I don't believe I know him. Did he say what his father does?”

“No. He was very kind. He even helped me carry my umbrella and table to the shed, and then he insisted on walking me back here.”

“I thank God the Fates were looking out for you by sending this Carlo along. Come inside and rest. Don't worry about helping me with supper.” Maria takes my hand and leads me toward the tent.

After taking a sponge bath, I change into the slip that I use as a nightgown. Lying down on my cot, I feel all the aches in my body from when Rinaldo attacked me. Bruises dot my arms and chest. Though I feel worn out from the rough day I've had, I know I will not be able to sleep. I just want to rest for a bit before joining everyone else for dinner. My mind drifts to Carlo, and I wonder where he is right now. He didn't say much about himself. Then again, I didn't either, especially when I refused to tell him where I'm originally from. He mentioned that he would probably see me either in the piazza or on the beach, so he must spend his time equally divided among the two. I feel foolish in my thoughts as I suddenly realize most people in Taormina spend as much time on the beach as they do in town. The crazy day I've had is making me lose my ability to think clearly.

I rest for another half hour. The smell of calamari reaches my nose and is too tantalizing for me to resist. Standing up, I put on a dress that Maria has left for me. It is a bit large, but I take the belt tie from my other dress and wrap it around the waist of this one, making it tighter. Instead of a low-cut bodice, this dress has a square neckline that covers my cleavage adequately.

Holding up Maria's brass handheld mirror with one hand, I brush my wavy, waist-length hair with the other. I remember how Carlo stared at it and how he told me it was beautiful. I had never really thought of my auburn hair as beautiful since it wasn't commonly seen and since my father had always made me feel like I was cursed to have such red hair. He tolerated the little bit of red in my mother's hair because hers also had hues of soft brown and didn't draw as much attention as mine. I coil my hair into a bun and reach for a few pins to fasten it, but on second thought, I decide to leave my hair down, draping it on either side of my shoulders before I step out of the tent.

Only a few people are still eating by the campfire. Several of the men are getting their instruments ready for the night's music. This has been my favorite part of staying with Maria and her tribe of gypsies. They sing and dance every night. Even on the days when they haven't made much money, they still appear happy.

“Sarina! Sarina!” Isabella comes running in my direction and throws herself into my arms once she reaches me. She then leads me by the hand toward the campfire and sits on a small stool Gianni carved for her. She pats the empty folding chair beside her. “Sit next to me.”

Doing as she asks, I cannot help but laugh after seeing Isabella take a handful of calamari that are sitting in a large pot and pop them all into her mouth.

“You really love those, don't you?” I stroke her hair. Isabella's playful personality reminds me so much of Carlotta's that sometimes it is hard for me to be around her, but I never let her see my anguish.

“They're my favorite! Yum!”

I eat my share of calamari and a tomato and green bean salad one of the women has made.

Maria and Gianni have just finished singing a duet about a husband and a wife who are miserable together yet can't live without each other. Laughter and whistles go around the group.

“
Grazie! Grazie mille!
Can I have everyone's attention?
Silenzio, per favore!
” Maria implores the gypsies to be quiet.

“You have all helped me welcome Sarina into our fold.” Maria gestures toward me with a nod of her head and smiles. I return the smile, but begin feeling anxious, not sure where she is going with this. And I hate being the center of attention. Now everyone is looking at me, but I only see kindness in their faces.

“Though she has only been reading for a few weeks now, she is a fast learner, and I can see she will be one of our best tarot readers. She truly has a calling for it.”

“Si, si.”
Many of the gypsies voice their approval. Even Gianni's mother, Concetta, manages to make me out in her half-blind state and waves a feeble hand in my direction.

“But what you do not know is that Sarina is also a gifted singer.”

“Ahh!” Gasps of surprise reverberate among the gypsies. Even I'm stunned. For I have not sung in front of the gypsies yet. The only time I allow myself to sing is when I'm alone. Maria must've heard me sing when I was washing my clothes the other day by the water.

“Sarina has been shy about her talents as a singer. But I think it is time she share with us her beautiful voice. Sarina, we would be honored if you would take the stage.”

My heart freezes. I'm terrified, but I also know I cannot disappoint them, not after all that they've done for me. I know this is also Maria's way of still trying to make amends with me over what happened with the dresses. I remember how I spoke to her earlier, and regret fills me.

“Sing, Sarina! Sing!” Isabella is now standing and hopping up and down, holding her hands together as she begs me to sing.

I stand up and make my way toward Maria. Everyone applauds and cheers.

Maria hugs me and whispers into my ear, “You are a very brave young woman. I love you.”

I am moved and hug her back. Maria kisses me on both cheeks and then walks over to Gianni, who wraps his arm around his wife's waist.

Clearing my throat, I begin to sing.

There is complete silence once I am done singing. My first thought is that I sounded horrible. But then I see many of the gypsies crying, even a few of the men. I then realize my hand is clenched into a fist and is over my heart. When I sing, I often close my eyes, completely immersing myself in my song and the place it takes me to. I did not realize when I was singing that I was actually beating my own heart every time I thought about my mother and the pain I must have caused her after I left.

The silence only lasts for a moment more, then everyone starts applauding. Many of the older women, mothers themselves, run up and embrace me.

“Povera ragazza,”
or “poor girl” several of them say before kissing me on the cheeks. A few others say,
“Bravissima! Che bella voce!”

Maria is back at my side. “
Si, che bella voce!
I told you Sarina has a beautiful voice. Let us applaud her and her moving song once more.”