Stella Mia (13 page)

“Again, I'm just trying to lighten the mood. But I must admit, I have ulterior motives as well for making jokes. I love seeing you smile and hearing your laugh.”

I ignore his compliments and change the subject quickly before he can make me blush even more than he already has.

“The Lovers card represents the ultimate union and can again point to marriage or a perfect joining of two people. The bond you will have with this woman will be on a very high level. She will be your soul mate and will know you like no one else ever has. There is a strong attraction between the two of you that only deepens your spiritual connection to this person. This card can also symbolize your beliefs and values. At this point, you may feel more secure than you did earlier in your journey to make your own decisions and not let others influence you. Again, this card reflects back to the Emperor card. I saw a powerful male figure who will try to sway you and convince you to go against what you believe is just. This person does not have your best interests at heart. Though you might fall prey to this person, the Lovers card shows that in time you can become strong enough to ignore external forces and listen to yourself. Let your own intuition guide you. This card is also a warning, in that it shows you will be faced with a moral dilemma and must take time before deciding what action you will take.

“My overall sense of your reading is that there will be a new beginning or transformation in your life, most likely a new romantic relationship. While you will receive the satisfaction you have always desired in a partner, you will inevitably be faced with obstacles that will force you to reevaluate what is most important in your life. You must be careful with the people in your life and whom you place your trust in. You can succeed but only after much introspection. Do you have any questions?”

“I guess you cannot predict if this woman whom I will meet is the one I am meant to spend the rest of my life with?”

Glancing down at the cards, I try to get a feeling to see if I can answer Carlo's question. But nothing appears in my mind. I feel blocked. In the short time I have been reading the tarot, this has never happened before. For some reason, the cards do not want to reveal the possible outcome.

“I'm sorry, Carlo, but the cards are not giving me any clues indicating if this woman will remain in your life for a short or a long time. It could be that the moment is not right for the cards to reveal this fate. If you'd like, I can give you another reading in a month or so and see if I can give you more clarification. I won't charge you since I wasn't able to answer this question for you.”

“That won't be necessary. I'll pay you for your time and work. I am satisfied with the reading you gave me tonight. I did feel a lot of what you said made sense, and I must admit the question I had in mind was of a romantic nature.”

I remember how normally a client tells me his or her question at the end of a reading, but I get the feeling Carlo does not want to share his question with me even though I told him earlier that he could phrase it more vaguely.

“I will walk you back to the tent. It seems that most of the gypsies have gone to bed. I was so engrossed in the reading that I didn't even notice the music had stopped.” Carlo stands up and waits for me while I collect my cards.

“I hadn't noticed either. Gianni and his son Tonio are still up.”

We walk back toward the tent. I stop a few feet away, not wanting to get too close to Gianni and Tonio, who are talking animatedly to one another, probably debating some political issue as they often do. I'm tired and don't feel like getting into a prolonged conversation with them.

“Thank you for walking me back, Carlo. I hope the reading proves useful for you, and I hope you will remember some of the warnings and advice the cards were giving you.”

“Thank you for the reading. Oh, I almost forgot.” Carlo pulls out of his pants a thick wad of liras. I'm surprised at how much money he is carrying. Without asking me how much I charge, he pulls out several liras and hands them to me.

“This is too—”

“I insist, Sarina. You earned it. You gave me a very thorough, detailed reading. Please, accept the money.”

I hesitate. There is no doubt I can use all this money, but I also feel that I am already indebted to Carlo for rescuing me from Rinaldo. But I sense Carlo is a true gentleman, and my refusal of his generosity would offend him.

“
Buonanotte,
Sarina. I enjoyed very much spending time with you this evening. Perhaps I will come by again another night so I can hear your beautiful singing.” Carlo takes my hand and places a light kiss on the back of it.

Merely nodding my head, I whisper back,
“Buonanotte,”
and walk toward the back of the tent so that I can enter through the second entrance. It is late, and I don't want to enter the tent from the front since I would have to walk among the other gypsies' cots and would possibly wake them. My cot is located toward the back of the tent.

Suddenly I notice out of my peripheral vision that Gianni and Tonio have ceased talking and are looking toward Carlo and me. I'm mortified as I realize they must've witnessed Carlo's kissing my hand.

“
Buonanotte,
Gianni. Thank you for the wine,” I hear Carlo say just as I am stepping inside the tent. I'm surprised he has not left yet. My instincts tell me in that moment he must've been staring at me the entire time I was walking away. A ripple of small waves courses through my belly.

Thankfully, Isabella is sound asleep. I'm sure she would have had a bunch of questions for me about the stranger with whom I spent so much time. She's taken to sleeping beside my cot instead of her parents'. I don't mind, for her presence comforts me. Kneeling beside her cot, I stroke back a few strands of hair that are clinging to her cheek. I lift her sheet and cover her shoulders.

Yawning, I take off my dress and step into the slip I go to bed in. I close my eyes, but sleep escapes me, for all I can think about is the way Carlo kissed my hand.

La Cantante

 

 

THE SINGER

 

 

 

 

A
week has passed since I gave Carlo his reading. He hasn't come by again even though he'd told me he would love to hear me sing. I try convincing myself that I'm not disappointed, but I know I am. He's been in my thoughts since that fateful day we met. I call it fateful because it was sheer luck he was on the beach and was able to prevent Rinaldo from attacking me.

“Sciocca.”
I am nothing more than a silly girl I whisper to myself as I take in the view of the Mediterranean Sea from the aerial tramway that is taking me back into town.

I'm silly for thinking that perhaps Carlo and I shared an attraction. He was probably just being polite by acting as if he were interested in hearing me sing a second time. But then why did he insist on holding my hand during the reading and later kissing it before we parted? Does he do this with all the young women he meets?

With some of the extra money Carlo gave me for his reading, I decided to buy my tram ticket. While I love the beach and spending most of my time there, I need a break—not just from the scenery but also from the gypsies. Though I love them, it's difficult to have a few moments to myself. Maria refuses to let me give readings alone any longer because of what happened with Rinaldo. And even when I'm walking along the shoreline while the gypsies are engaged in another activity, someone eventually calls out to me to join them. They've also asked me to sing every night. I don't mind that as much. Tonio has even been giving me lessons on his mandolin and lets me practice when he's not using it.

I was afraid when I told Maria this morning that I would be heading into town that she would say she was coming with me, but thankfully she didn't. She just asked me to be careful. I think she feels less worried about my giving readings alone in the piazza because it is so crowded. But I've decided not to work today. Part of me feels guilty that I will not be making any money, but I want some time to myself to relax and not have to predict my clients' destinies. But there is another reason for my going to the piazza. I want to see if by any chance one of the hotels or even the restaurants finally needs more maids or any other workers.

Although I have at least another month before Maria and her family leave Taormina and travel to the next town where they will set up camp, I want to begin looking for other work now. I'm beginning to prepare myself that the likelihood of staying in Taormina is quite low. But still, I must do my best to at least try and find other employment that would allow me to stay here.

As I walk along the Corso Umberto, I pass several fancy clothing shops. But I dare not loiter in front of them, for staring at merchandise I might not ever be able to afford will only make me too sad. The scent of fresh brioche reaches my nose, and I see I am approaching Angela's bread shop. I was planning on visiting her after I made my inquiries at the hotels and restaurants. Deciding to see my friend and buy a brioche, I step into the shop.

Angela is behind the counter, placing brioche that have just come out of the oven onto an ornate platter.

“Sarina!
Che bella sorpresa!
What a nice surprise!” She comes around to the front of the counter and hugs me. “Why have you stayed away so long? I was beginning to think you had left Taormina and you had not even wished me good-bye.”

“I know how much you like surprises so I thought if I waited this long to visit you, you would definitely be surprised!” I laugh.

“Tsk . . . tsk.” Angela shakes her head. “
Basta!
Enough with the jokes! Is everything all right? I was worried about you.”

“I'm fine, Angela. I've actually been busy working. That's why you haven't seen me, although I must admit this isn't my first time in town since you last saw me over a month ago. I'm sorry I didn't stop by the other times, but I was quite busy and needed to be able to catch the last tram to the beach before they suspended service for the night.”

“You are staying by the beach? No wonder you are so tanned. You secured work at one of the hotels overlooking the beach?”

“No. I had no luck there either.” I hesitate before continuing. I know what so many people think about gypsies, but I don't want to lie to Angela, either. She fed me when I was starving those first few days after I had arrived in Taormina.

“Dio, mio!”
Angela makes the sign of the cross. “You didn't become one of those women, did you?” Angela's eyes open wide. I have no idea what she means at first, but then I realize what she's suggesting.

“No! Of course I did not become a
puttana!
”

“Ah! Grazie, Dio!”
Angela clasps her hands and holds them up over her head, thanking God that I haven't resorted to becoming a prostitute. “I'm sorry, Sarina. But it seems like you are reluctant to tell me what you are doing for work, so naturally my mind rushed to that awful conclusion.”

“It's all right. I met a family of gypsies, and they've been very kind to me. When they heard I had no success in finding work, they offered to teach me how to read tarot cards and work with them. I mostly do my readings on the beach. We make good money with all the tourists staying there and even the residents from town who go to the beach for the day. But sometimes I come up to the piazza and offer readings on the street.”

“Sarina, listen to me. You must not trust
gli zingari!
Of course they were kind to you. They wanted to ensnare you and use you to help them make more money. When you least expect it, they will steal all of your savings. My mother used to say,
‘Gli zingari non hanno le anime,'
and as such cannot feel guilt for conning and hurting others.”

“That is absurd, Angela! Where does it say that gypsies don't have souls? They are just trying to make a living like the rest of us. I know the horrible reputation that gypsies have. Yes, it is true that a few swindle people and have no remorse for doing so, but Maria and her family are different. Besides, gypsies aren't the only ones known for conning people.”

“I hope for your sake, Sarina, you are right. Well, I am not going to spend our entire visit lecturing you. All I ask is that you be careful. Please promise me that.” Angela places her hands on my arms, forcing me to look into her eyes.

“I will. Thank you for your concern, Angela. I will probably just be reading the tarot cards until the end of the summer. The gypsies plan on leaving Taormina then.”

“That makes me feel better. But I would relax more if you left them before their last day in Taormina. I fear they will find a way to get the upper hand with you. Have they told you the exact date they plan on leaving?”

“No.”

“Ah! They are clever. I might be wrong about them as you say, but I always believe it is better to err on the side of caution. See if you can get them to pinpoint the exact day they plan on leaving. That way you can disappear conveniently and be certain your money is safe with you.”

Silently, I laugh to myself over Angela's paranoia. But I am also touched that she is looking out for me, much the way she would if she had a child. Angela and her husband were not able to conceive. By the tenderness she's shown me, I can tell she would have been an excellent mother.

“You are a very wise woman, Angela. You are right. It never hurts to be careful. I am always telling my clients that when I give them a reading.”

“Maybe you can come back later and give me a reading? That is if you have the time and won't risk missing your tram back to the beach. Who knows? Maybe you'll see that I will come into an inheritance from an unknown wealthy relative, and I can finally be the one relaxing by the beach and shopping at all the exclusive boutiques in Taormina!” Angela winks.

“You never know!” I laugh.

“I will pay you, of course.”

“No, please. After all the food you've given me, I could not take money from you. Please think of it as my way of repaying your generosity. I didn't come in here just to visit you, Angela. The smell of your heavenly brioche made its way to my nose out on the street. I must buy one.” I take some money out of my small leather satchel that I purchased from a street vendor shortly after I began reading fortunes.

“Put your money back into your purse!” Angela hurries away and steps behind the counter before I can protest. Picking up a brioche with a pair of tongs, she places it in a napkin before handing it to me.

“
Grazie.
But that really isn't necessary, Angela.” I take a bite of the still-warm brioche and savor its subtle sweetness.

“You will be paying me with the reading. That's enough.”

“So how is business?” I can't help noticing that the bread shop has not had one customer since I walked in. Usually, the mornings are the busiest time.

“It's been a bit slower lately. But it happens. I'm not worried. That is how it goes—up and down, much like life, right? At least the few hotels that buy from us are still being loyal and not going to a couple of the new bakeries that have surfaced in the piazza.”

“I will tell my clients whom I give readings to in the piazza to come here if they are hungry or are looking for good bread.”

“
Grazie,
Sarina. Is that what brings you to town today? You will be working?”

“No. I decided to take a break today. I want to try and see if any of the hotels have openings for work now or even at the end of summer. As I mentioned earlier, the gypsies will be leaving Taormina, most likely in August, so I'd like to find other work that would allow me to stay here.”

“I thought you said you made pretty good money giving readings?”

“I do, but I'm afraid that once summer ends and most of the tourists leave, I won't be making enough money to continue supporting myself.”

“That is true. But I must warn you. It will be even harder for you to find work at the hotels or restaurants this late in the season or even for the fall. Many of them hire temporary workers for the busy summer season and then let them go once autumn approaches.”

I hadn't even thought of that, but Angela is right. My spirits sink.

“If only you could sing! Ha! Villa Carlotta is looking for a singer to entertain their guests in the evenings. But that is the only available job I have heard of.” Angela begins wiping her display counter with a wet towel.

“What did you say? A singer?” My heart stops beating for a moment.

“
Si.
They used to have an opera singer. She was quite good. A man from the famous opera house in Milan, Teatro alla Scala, was vacationing at the Villa Carlotta and heard her sing. He offered her a job. Talk about luck! She moved to Milan two weeks ago, but Silvano still has not been able to find someone to replace her.”

“Is Silvano the owner of the Villa Carlotta?”

“Yes. Silvano Conti. He's quite wealthy and is in the process of building another hotel, but this one will be in Enna. He's been away a lot, overseeing the construction of the new hotel. But he was here yesterday and told me he'd be staying put in Taormina for at least another week or two because of work that needs his attention at the Villa Carlotta. It's an exquisite hotel. I'm sure you must've noticed it when you were trying to find work. Did you ever inquire there?”

I shake my head no. “The name doesn't sound familiar. Perhaps I did go in it, but did not take notice of its name. I would've remembered it.” I do not tell Angela that my little sister's name is Carlotta, and that's why I would've remembered the hotel. I also don't reveal to her that I sing for I'll feel like a fool if I don't get this job at the Villa Carlotta. I know it is a long shot. Surely, Signore Conti will want a seasoned singer. But I must try. It might be my only way of staying in Taormina.

“Where exactly is the Villa Carlotta?”

“It's on Via Pirandello, just a few minutes from the Corso Umberto. You can't miss it.”

“Maybe I didn't inquire there for work when I first arrived in Taormina. I don't remember going onto Via Pirandello.”

“You probably didn't. Like I said, it is an exquisite hotel. You would have most certainly remembered it.”

Glancing at the clock that hangs on the wall by the shop's entrance, I say to Angela, “I should get going if I want to make my inquiries and have enough time to return and give you your reading before the last scheduled tram departure. Thank you for the brioche, Angela.”

“
È niente.
It's nothing. I look forward to your reading.” Angela smiles and waves to me as I leave the shop.

I walk as quickly as I can to Via Pirandello, but then I realize I'm just making myself sweaty, and I don't want to show up at the Villa Carlotta looking disheveled. Forcing myself to slow down, I pray fervently to God, asking him by some miracle to let me get the singing job. Perhaps the hotel's being called “Carlotta” like my sister is a good omen.

After what feels like an eternity to me, I finally reach the Via Pirandello. I walk down the street, but do not notice an elaborate hotel as Angela described the Villa Carlotta. Then again, many of the hotels in Taormina are gorgeous. I begin to make out a large brick building that has arched windows, giving it a Middle Eastern feel. Many of the buildings and even the churches in Sicily have Middle Eastern traits from when the Arabs occupied the island. I remember learning in school that many of the churches used to be mosques. That's why so many of the churches feature large rounded domes. Once I get closer, I can make out the words
Hotel Villa Carlotta
etched in black cursive at the center and top of the building. I remember a few of the other hotels in Taormina choose to use the English word for hotel instead of the Italian word
“albergo.”