Forbidden Rendezvous
Chianti Wine
©Mary Santangelo 2004It was a sunny afternoon, the air was clean and the sky baby blue. I could almost smell the scent of the ocean beneath me. Amidst the blue green waters below a lonely sailboat gently glided upon its surface. Every day without fail, I see this boat grace these waters; like a white dot upon a blue background, it is alone and still. Much like my life has been without my husband Jim.
I love sitting on this delightful balcony, it brings back such memories of times past. There was a time when my lover and I would sit here overlooking the scenery, drinking Chianti wine. The days would be long waiting for his arrival, but well worth the wait when he arrived. He was a good-hearted man, who worked hard and loved life. We both did. I met him many years ago on my vacation to Italy. He worked as a baker on the Island. When our eyes met, I knew he raised a passion within me that I thought was extinguished.
When my husband passed, I came into some money and decided to spend my time traveling. I always wanted to come back to the land of my ancestors, and I did. When I reached Naples after a long bus ride from Rome, I immediately felt the connection. The people were alive and animated; almost out of a Sophia Loren movie. It couldn’t have been more perfect. I decided I needed to spend some time here and get to know my heritage.
It was one morning, when I decided to see the sights. I took a walk to get some cappuccino when I came across this bakery. When I entered, I was greeted most warmly by this dark skinned Neapolitan man who introduced himself as Angelo. “Buon Giorno Signora,” Come ste”? I replied with “Bene, Grazie”, my Italian being rusty, wondering if I could carry a conversation with this man in Italian. Sensing my unease, he resumed the conversation in broken English. “What can I do for you, today”? With that, I smiled and my eyes began roaming the pastry bin. I picked a pastry and asked for a cappuccino. He hurriedly began his task of wrapping the pastry and preparing the coffee.
During this short time, our eyes would occasionally meet and I could now see his dark brown eyes along with a hearty full smile. I nodded shyly. I don’t know why I did, but I felt like a young schoolgirl flirting for the first time. We began small conversation and he asked me my name. “My name is Gina, I’m here on vacation.” My parents were born here and I’m here to visit their homeland”. He nodded admirably and preceded to hand me my pastry and coffee. I said “Grazi” and began to walk out the door. Before I the door closed, he said, “Maybe I see you around”? heh? I told him where I was staying and walked out. I don’t know why I did that. Something just came over me.
I walked for a long time, taking in the sights, the people and just enjoying the beautiful weather. When I got back to the Inn, I was greeted at the door by that warm-hearted smile and those dark brown eyes I had earlier seen in the bakery. I said, “What are you doing here?”. “I thought you might want a little company tonight”, he said. The evenings in Naples are romantic and a lovely lady like you, should not be alone”.
Call it the atmosphere or Naples itself, but somehow, I felt safe and I took him up on his offer. For the next week, Bruno and I would spend romantic evenings in my bedroom, which overlooked the bay of Naples. Our nights were like no other I have ever spent. He was warm and tender with a passion I had never known with American men. He had vigor for life and for love. We would make love for hours and I felt wanted in his arms. After we made love, we would sit on the balcony drinking Chianti wine and talking about family. Bruno was married with several children. His wife, whom he loved, worked with him in the bakery. Most of the time she was tired between the kids and the bakery not fulfilling Bruno’s sexual needs; so he sought for it elsewhere.
I didn’t complain, nor did I care about his marital status. I came to visit this country with no expectations and received a lot more than I bargained for. When the week was over, I expressed my feelings for Bruno’s affections and we parted friends and lovers. Bruno had filled a void that I had within me for many years and now I felt whole again. Looking at life in a whole new different way.
It’s been 20 years since that affair; however, I will never forget the flame it ignited. It gave me a passion for life. I have returned to Naples several times since then, but Bruno had moved and he was nowhere to be found. As I drink my last glass of Chianti wine before I pack to go home, I will always remember that life is what you make it. Loneliness is state of mind and should we decide not to be lonely, there are many options to take in life. Naples offered me one of her children to ignite a love within me I thought I lost. I will always remember Naples and Chianti wine.
Golden Gates
©2004 Mary Santangelo
Today, I feel alive, like the city down below. I always loved San Francisco; it had something no other city had. I could never pin point it, but it almost reminded me of London with its similar weather. There was always a foreign atmosphere in the air, and I always enjoyed hearing Tony Bennett’s song “I left My Heart in San Francisco”.I lived in San Diego for several years in the 70’s and loved the carefree lifestyle of the Californian. With music from the Beach Boys spewing from some radio, I considered myself back then a “California Girl”. I even bleached my hair blonde to fit in. It was a more lay back time, even though in those days, finding a job was almost impossible. They were tough times, but I managed. I guess when your young, fear is not part of ones make-up.
I considered my stay in California a wonderful adventure and probably wouldn’t have changed it; despite the heartaches it afforded me. I eventually found an evening job and a whole new world of “night life” came into view. Meaning, there were times I would work both second and third shift – depending if the computers went down. I had never worked these hours before and it was a bit getting used to. I became hooked on daytime TV, tried pot for the first time in my life and was an expression of sexual freedom. There could not have been a better time in my life.
I had gone through a bitter divorce and built armor around me stronger than an English Knight. I was young, strong and I felt I could get through anything, and I did. I had met several men after my divorce. I was determined to forget the man that robbed me of my honor, stole my money, and committed crimes of which I found out later were too outrageous to believe. But life goes on and I had to survive like everyone else on the planet.
My sexual adventures began with the local mailman. He was an odd sort. Almost looked like something out of a barbershop quartet. He had an old fashioned mustache that was curled up at the ends, and I thought was a man caught in time. I knew he was interested in me the very first time I came to get the mail. We would often talk and carry on some conversation, but it ended with “Have a nice day”.
The following day was different; I took matters into my own hands and invited him in my apartment. It wasn’t long before we were kissing and taking each other’s clothes off. My apartment was a small one bedroom with the living room adjacent to the bedroom, so my bed wasn’t far away.
It was good having a man’s hands caress me again. I needed to feel wanted. I was rather beautiful back in those days. My body was firm, weighing in at 125lbs on a 5ft. two frame. My long auburn locks draped around my shoulders, I was considered a hot cookie in those days.
To my dismay, our love making was short and about as old fashioned as his mustache. I guess I was expecting much more than what I got, but than I needed to remember, he was only the mailman. It was one of those “quickies” and I never interacted with him again. Life was different in those days – easy come – easy go.
Coming back to this old city does flood my mind with memories – the good and the bad. But than, they are just that – memories.
Today my lovers are much older and hopefully much wiser. I came here to visit a long time friend. We met years ago while he was on vacation in my state. I love his apartment as it overlooks the intensity of this city. Everyday, I can see him getting off the Trolley.
Funny how we always know when the other is near. I look out the window and he looks up. We both pause for a moment, smile and he proceeds to come upstairs. It’s these special moments when passions arise. We make love with such vigor like the city below. He awakens such passions in me that I’m almost made to blush at the thought. But when he holds me in his arms, I truly forget about the world outside.