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In Vino Veritas
“Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
William Shakespeare
I saw his reflection in a clear puddle, the picture of his back in marine blue velvet as he walked away. We were to marry in June, the lucky month of the goddess Juno. I was amazed when my mother told me the reason behind the date, after all, we were a God-fearing family of high status. I didn't protest though, my thoughts were occupied by the memory of the blue velvet in the puddle below the window. I was not to lean too close to it, my mother would have misunderstood my intentions.
Mother quietly informed me that he would return the next evening to discuss the matter further with my father. I was bewitched by her smooth neckline as she distanced herself from me, expecting me to go back to my room or even break the rules for once. Perhaps hoping I would. But both of us knew that such a thing would not take place.
The soft sound of her shoes against the floor stilled for a moment, she looked over her pale shoulder at me. ”And don't be so cold,” she added. I was a girl with delicate features, inherited from Mother. Yet she was one in love with music and art, one to dance alone in her room at midnight when she thought her children slept, one to flee to Ponte Vecchio just to see the people she tried so hard to keep us away from. I, on the other hand, confirmed what people assumed of women with graceful features; reactions pale as my complexion and feelings icier than my eyes.
I let out a sigh, glancing out of the window before going back up to my room to have my hair brushed by Maura and take my afternoon nap.
That day wasn't as significant in my life for the precense of him as it was for what I did in the late afternoon stillness. Something vulgar, something unsuitable for a respectable girl. I broke the rules for the very first time since my childhood. I stilled the fear in Mother's heart. I put the darkness in heart on paper, watching as the ink dripped down on my paper-piece in something close to the trance the monks closest to God must fall into. I almost expected God's very face to appear on the paper.
My senses returned when my widened eyes hurt and I realized I was ruining the paper. It took a few hours for my hand unsteady hand to connect the ink dots. The result was frightening. Pitch-black contrasting against milky background. In my mind it looked like the drawing of an open chest that I'd once seen on one of my brother Piero's books over his shoulder. I touched my ribs over the thin underwear gown, my fingers seeking themselves into the gap in the middle. If I grabbed and pulled open my chest, it would be like in the picture.
Somehow that seemed beautiful to me; to open my chest to recieve God's light and mercy. My eyes burned.
There was suddenly a silent knock on the door and Maura swept into the room before I had the change to tuck away the sketch. I gasped, my eyes widening. She'd thought I was asleep.
Silence resided between us. Maura snatched the paper from my hands and looked at it. “Oh mio Dio...”
The drawing was confiscated, Maura's original errand forgotten and that was it. I was put to bed again. “Maura,” I called out softly. She stopped, turning around. “Yes?” I hesitated, not sure how to word the question. “You...will come with me, won't you?” I sounded almost desperate.
She looked at me as if the question was the strangest thing. Finally, she nodded, unsure.
I felt the heaving of my chest slow down.
“And when he touches you...” Piero grinned. I looked away, trying to hide my crimson cheeks and my disgust. “But then again,I don't think he will. You will kill him in the first night with your skills in the art of boredom!” He guffawed at his own joke and I bit the inside of my lip. What I could hope for was that Piero would leave us for his fun on the streets soon, but of course Mother would insist on him staying. “You should go hide when he comes, dear sister,” Piero said in a clever tone of voice, “if he sees you, we might have to pay for his sufferings.”
I swallowed silently, the lump in my throat hoping he wouldn't see my bright violet eyes. I was saved by my mother ordering me to go upstairs and dress up. Maura helped me with the farthingale and corset and put a canary yellow dress on me adorned with green. I watched myself in the dim light of the oil lamp placed on top of my toilet table; my black hair was tied back, a few strands licking the back of my neck and face, my violet eyes glimmering and my lips slightly flushed. Maura poked her head up from behind me and smiled approvingly.
Downstairs, the guests were already arriving for the dinner party Mother had arranged. My childhood friend, Carlina, was already seated at the dinner table nonchalantly and fanned herself at a fast pace. I had to laugh at her, as impatient as she was to express her independency. Her mouth was pulled out into a charming smile as she seductively pushed a grape inbetween her lips. She was the opposite of everything I was. Rejecting proposors, sneaking out at night, behaving like she did. She shut her fan and leaned forward to accept the kiss I playfully planted on her lips; and soon the other guests had also arrived, filling the whole dinner table with eager hands, endless supplies of food, intoxicating scents and then there was him. Him whom I hadn't even looked at yet. I didn't dare. I stared at his gold embroderied sleeve. I felt him look down at my head and say something in a cheerful matter. I felt myself express amusement. He also had delicate features; he was also cold. We didn't really fit. I smiled; we didn't really fit. Such irony fate holds.
It took quite a bit of research to write this story. I've researched everything from the color of the clothes to their actions to maps and whatever you could wish for LOL. It's part of the job I guess. I enjoyed it, I learned a lot.
A mini dictionary:
"In Vino Veritas" is a well-known Latin expression meaning "The truth in wine".
"Oh mio Dio" means "Oh my God".
