Home Town

 

Young hearts

ensnared in love’s

relentless insistence,

prepared to surrender all

for love’s embrace.

 

 

They were behind the boathouse.  Lake Varano was directly below them; they could hear the rhythmic sound of the water striking the shoreline.  The moonlight descended upon them, arousing their youthful exuberance.  Carmelo had her dress hiked up and he was entering her.  He kept his eyes locked in hers, and was feeding off of her enormous fire.  He felt his desire grow, and was more powerful with every stroke.  It was not a night for the intellect, but for the unfettered expression of love.  He was like a god riding the great engine of passion inside his woman, his first woman, his only woman.

 

"Maria," he sighed, "I love you.”  She reached up and encircled his mouth with hers.  Their hearts matched rhythm with their bodies.  Her pelvis pushed up reflexively against his thrusts.  The delight of his organ enflamed hers.

"My darling," she sighed, "my darling."  He took her to the very precipice beyond which the orgasm lied in waiting.  He saw her face grow flush with pleasure.  He understood well enough that they both wanted to linger forever at the edge where there is nothing but the present and where thoughts are imprisoned by desire.

"Not yet," he told her.  He changed his position so that he could pay attention to her nipples.  He caressed them; until, they became engorged with pleasure.  She squirmed and sighed with delight, and raised her legs so that he might slip more deeply into her.  Then he gently but firmly rolled her over so that she was on top of him.

"I want you to give me everything," he said.  She looked at him so intently that he was sure his eyes would melt in their sockets.  Her body became frantic with desire.  She raised and lowered herself on him with great agility.  They ultimately came in an absolute fit of pleasure, desire and completion.  Afterwards, she gently collapsed on top of him.

His love was so overwhelming that he continued to move inside her even though he was completely spent.  They remained coupled with each other for a long time.

Suddenly, he said, interrupting the blissful silence, "Maria, come with me to America."

Maria was startled.  She was completely unprepared for this.  "What are you talking about?  What is this about America?"

"I'm going, I've decided.  I told you about my cousin Antonio.  We have been getting letters from him.  He’s very happy there.  He has a beautiful home, a car and is making good money.  Can you imagine!  He wants me to go there.  He says he can get me a good job. Maria," he took hold of her hand as he continued, "it's a chance that will probably never come again.  If you came with me, I'd be the happiest man alive."

She smiled at him.  His sweet sincerity was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him.  "No, Carmelo it is impossible!  What about my family?  Besides, you know I’m engaged."

"I know, Luigi Patrona that fool.  You don't love that imbecile.  You can't marry him even though your family wants it. It will break your heart and mine.  I’m tired of meeting you like this.  It makes me feel like we’re doing something wrong.  I love you."

"I can not disobey my father," she insisted.  “I can’t disappoint my family.”

At that instant, Carmelo felt the heart within his chest shatter into thousands of fragments.  He was devastated by the finality of her answer and felt that she did not love him enough to break the hold her family had on her.  He was torn between two ineluctable forces that propelled him: his youthful desire for knowledge and adventure, and his remarkable love for a woman.  He was too callow to understand his own limitations as a human being; he was far too arrogant to be capable of compromise.  He was too immature and impatient to be able to weigh carefully whatever decision he might make.  He lived entirely from the heart, and the pain he felt made him terribly angry.  His pride took hold of him.

“Well all right then,” he said, “so be it.”

“Carmelo,” she pleaded, “please don’t be angry with me.  I have no choice.”

“Sure you have, if you really loved me you would come with me no matter what the cost.”

“I can not,” she answered her eyes filling with tears, “I’m sorry.”

Carmelo turned from her, stood up, put on his clothes and walked away.  He could not the bare the idea of looking back, it would hurt too much.

She looked at his retreating form not knowing what to do.  If she went after him, she would be giving up all that she knew.  If she did nothing, she would surely lose him.  Maria was marooned between two disparate worlds.

 

He cut off his relationship with Maria completely, for it was far easier to hate her then it was to allow his feelings for her to dissuade him.  He was going to America that much was certain.  This was made easier by the fact that Maria could not openly acknowledge their connection.

Carmelo's father, Michele, was a rigid man who was inwardly disappointed by his son's decision to emigrate.  He had always held an image of his son as being a comfort to him in his old age.  Instead, he felt like he was being abandoned.  He could not comprehend why Carmelo would choose to go so far away from his birthplace and his family.  He felt like he could never forgive his son for that.  Outwardly, however, he was a man of few words and showed only one implacable face dictated by his stubbornness and pride, qualities that had been passed on to his son.

His mother, now that was different.  Mother and child loved each other almost without bounds.  He had to spend many hours consoling her about his decision.  "Mama," he said, "I'll be back, don't worry.  I have to do this.  It's not like I'm going away forever.”

“Do you promise that you will come back, that you will not go away for good?”

“I promise, Mama,” he answered, “I promise.  You don’t need to worry, the world is a different place; it is much smaller than it used to be."

It did not matter what he said, for when she looked at him, she saw not only the young man but the little baby at her breast, the growing boy, and the being that she would die for if that was required of her.  Theresina had a heart just like her son: filled like a bottomless well with passion.  All the love she was not able to give to her husband she gave to Carmelo.  In many ways, it was an unnatural relationship. 

"Carmelo," she said, "I love you.  I see that I can not change your mind.  If there is something I could say to keep you, I would.  I’ve tried everything I know.  If that is what you must do, well then let it be."  As she said this, she sighed. 

After he talked with his parents, there was nothing more to keep him.  He sent a letter to his cousin in America telling him he would be coming soon and made the rest of his plans.  He would travel light.  He only took with him some clothes, a journal to record his travels and some photographs and mementoes of his family that had special meaning for him.  As he was packing these items the night before his departure, he wondered if he would ever see his family again.  He was beginning to feel a loneliness that would grow to haunt him.

 

His immediate family came with him to the train station.  Other people from his town began to arrive along with his friends.  The news of his departure had spread, and many came out of curiosity.  It was not long before the platform was filled.  They waited together for the train to Rome.  His father remained aloof and silent; his mother implored him one last time to change his mind and stay.  When she realized it was futile, she cautioned him to take care and to write often.  Her heart felt like it would stop beating within her breast, she was so distraught.  Yet her mother's love remained intact.  His sister Yolanda was too little to know the meaning of what was happening, but felt her mother’s pain and began to cry.  As he boarded the train, his father caught him by the arm, pulled his son to him and kissed him on the lips.  “Make something of yourself,” he said as he handed Carmelo some money and let him go.  Carmelo stood at the window and watched as the figures of his family and all the others grew indistinct as the train departed.  They all waved and shouted to him and wished him success.  He looked one last time hoping that Maria might have chosen to abandon all caution and come to see him off or, hope against hope, come with him.  

 

Maria was sitting in her room on the second floor of her family estate.  She was at her desk looking intently out of the window.  Her long raven hair fell against her face and her deep brown eyes could not hide the intense sadness she felt.  She longed for Carmelo with every aspect of her being.  The loneliness that began to invade her composure already felt unbearable.  She wanted desperately to see him one last time, but knew that was impossible for her, especially since her fiancée was downstairs talking with her father.  She wished she could be like him, and run away with him, leaving everything she knew and loved behind.  She was, however, not that kind of person.  Maria needed familiarity and the sense of security that came with being with her family in the place that was her home.

“Carmelo,” she sighed to herself, “I love you, I wish you much happiness.”  She put her head in her hands and cried bringing forth feelings of intense pain and emptiness.

 

When Carmelo arrived at DiVinci airport in Rome, he was filled with excitement.  The sun was brilliant with only a few clouds in the sky.  “A perfect day for flying,” he thought.  He checked his baggage and waited at the gate for his plane.  Carmelo had never flown before, and was transfixed as he watched the huge aircraft landing and departing.  Eventually, he boarded and sat at a window seat.  His flight was filled with young students on holiday.  As the plane began its ascent, Carmelo grabbed so tightly onto the armrests that his hands turned ashen white.    

When they finally reached cruising altitude, the young passengers applauded and Carmelo began to relax.  He looked down and saw a broad panorama that encompassed his homeland: the country of his birth where his fondest memories resided.  He had never seen it from that perspective.  All that was familiar to him was rapidly disappearing from sight.  Everything he had taken for granted, he was now leaving behind.  He wondered if he was doing the right thing.  His future was now an entirely unchartered terrain opening up before him.

All during the trip, Carmelo held within his mind the sights, sounds and images of his boyhood.  He saw vividly the houses overlooking the sea of olive groves, the well-worn path to Lake Varano where his father kept his fishing boats, the coble-stoned streets of the town, and the piazza, where the men gathered to tell their stories.  He could smell the fragrance of the air and water. He felt his father's stern yet loving demeanor as he tried in vain to entice Carmelo to love the sea as he had.  He saw, most vividly however, the benevolent moon-shaped face of his Mama.  His mother was blessed with the joy of living.  Her love of life was contagious and infected all who knew her.  But most of all, he remembered Maria.  Her sweet face and passionate eyes, her young, soft and shapely body still filled him with intense longing.  “Why wouldn't she come with me!” he thought to himself.  He pictured all their somber faces as he left on his great journey.  He planned to accomplish great things in the land he knew was filled with promise, for he had a young and adventurous heart. He knew he would prosper in the new world that he had heard so much about.  In contrast, he felt that the future for him in his home town was far too limiting.  Carmelo had an expansive spirit; it could not tolerate the closed and routine nature of village life.  He required some mystery and adventure, and he was motivated by an insatiable passion for living, by a thirst for the unknown.