Page 73 of Capo
A slam of a door from downstairs makes me jerk. I meet Alessandra halfway down the stairs. She has her arms full of clothes.
“I’ve found a few dresses I think should fit. And shoes.” She winks.
“Thank you! I don’t know how I’m ever—”
“Oh, that’s not an issue, Signorina. We are happy to help Signore Salvatore.”
I freeze when I hear his name, spoken so casually out of the mouth of this girl, showing none of the fear everyone back home seems to harbor.
“How… do you know him?”
“My grandmother was a cousin to his father. I think.” She frowns, and then laughs. “We stick together. Now, go change. I’ll make us some soup. Do you like basil?”
I nod. I don’t even know what I nod to, too overwhelmed to think straight.
I spread out three flowery, knee-long dresses on the bed and drop the pair of leather sandals on the floor. I’m so excited that I almost bounce when I shed the grimy clothes. Salvatore’s clothes, I realize as his scent wafts up.
“Hey,” I shout down the stairs, “can I take a shower?”
“Of course,” she shouts back. “The towels are fresh.”
The bathroom is tiny, but cute, the basin and toilet painted with little pink flowers, a pink rug on the floor.
Revived after a quick, cool shower, I pull a dress over my head, and realize to my horror that I have no underwear. Fuck. I follow a mouthwatering scent downstairs and find Alessandra by the stove.
“Feel better? You’re very pretty, Chloe. You’ll be like a beacon among us with your blonde hair. I can see why he would choose you.” She pinches a strand of my still-damp hair. “Set the plates, please. We can eat shortly.”
Choose me? I scoff inwardly as I look at the shelves and take down two deep plates.
“Are there… I don’t have any underwear.” My cheeks heat up.
She stops and turns. “I’ll fix that. I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me. Let’s eat while it’s warm and I’ll help you after.”
Alessandra gestures for me to sit, then she scoops up tomato soup in our bowls and breaks a piece of bread, handing it to me before she breaks another piece for herself.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” She laughs. “Eat. You need it. You can do the dishes after. I’m not used to living with someone. I’m definitely going to take advantage of that.”
“Oh please, put me to use. I don’t want to be a burden.”
The soup is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. It’s salty, spicy, everything my body needs. The calm atmosphere, the silence, the sparsely furnished house is everything my soul needs.
“How many people live here? What do you all do?”
“We’re about forty. Mostly farm work. I teach.”
“Oh?” I perk up. My kind of person! “What do you teach?”
“Everything,” she says. “I’m the teacher.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks. Of course. “How many kids? What ages are they?”
“Seven. Between five and fifteen, then they have to go to the city.”
“I’ve worked with children too.” My heart clenches at how distant it seems now. I left that life when I left Kerry in Chicago. And then everything was taken from me. Still, here I am, on a white-hot island in the Mediterranean Sea, eating soup. Life is suddenly turned on its head again, and for once it’s not awful.
“What did you do?”