Solitaria

Solitaria by Genni Gunn

Book: Solitaria by Genni Gunn Read Free Book Online
Authors: Genni Gunn
Tags: Mystery
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and sit here with me. I’m much more interesting, not to mention younger, than Zio Aldo.”
    â€œI’m not promising anything.” Oriana slides into a chair next to Marco and pecks him on the cheek. “I like to film everything and later decide if I can make something of it.”
    â€œYou’ll let us see it first, Oriana, won’t you, before you air it?” Clarissa says. “I mean, we should have the right to decide if we want this made public or not.”
    Oriana gaily wags her finger at Clarissa. “Are you the artistic director here?” she asks. “Or are you the censor?” She shakes her head. “Censorship, censorship everywhere these days. How can an artist create?”
    Mimí slaps her lightly on the arm. “ Basta ! Be serious for a moment.”
    Oriana turns to David. “Hello, Canadian cousin,” she says, her eyes twinkling. She holds out her hand.
    He shakes it, all the while smiling.
    Clarissa taps the back of the chair at the head of the table. “Come sit here, David,” she says. “And let’s get started.”
    â€œMay I film?” Oriana asks.
    They’re all nervous, unsure.
    â€œI promise I won’t use it unless you okay it.” She gets up and reaches for the camcorder.
    â€œI guess it’s all right,” Teresa says.
    David recounts what Piera has explained and read to him. Oriana circles around them, filming from different angles, capturing reaction shots. Now and then, David thinks he sees a shadow moving across the window on the top floor. Is Piera spying on them? Is he being faithful to her telling? What can she hear through the open window?
    When he’s done, they’re all quiet for a moment. Oriana films their silence.
    â€œBe pleased if the wind that enters the orchard / brings back the surge of life: / here where a dead tangle of memories / sinks and founders,/ there was no garden, only a reliquary,” Aldo says, quoting Montale.
    â€œShe’s embellishing it for your sake,” Clarissa says finally.
    â€œZia Piera tells the stories the same way every time,” Marco says. “She’s amazing.”
    â€œHow can she remember all the dialogue?” Mimí says. “She’s made it up to suit her.”
    â€œI’ve heard her tell stories since I was a child, and they never vary,” Marco says.
    â€œShe’s the elephant who never forgets.” Teresa looks better today, composed, as if their presence alone has calmed her. “Or maybe, she’s brooded over it all so much that she’s forgotten what is real and what she invented.”
    â€œActually, it sounds very much like it was,” Aldo says quietly. “It’s certainly what I recall, maybe not the minute details, but the events, the life, yes.”
    They all reflect on that for a moment.
    â€œI wasn’t born,” Mimí says finally, “so I can’t comment one way or the other.” She uses her spoon to sweep crumbs in front of her. “But it sounds right to me. Everyone said Vito was bad, but I bet he wasn’t. He was only reflecting the bad in others.”
    Clarissa raises her eyebrows. “How perceptive of you, Mimí,” she says sarcastically.
    â€œMom,” David says, frowning.
    â€œAnyway, as always, Piera is making this her story instead of Vito’s,” Clarissa says. “Self-centred as ever.”
    â€œLet’s not be unfair,” Fazio says in a soft voice. “Piera has done so much for all of us. Perhaps all she wants is to be heard.”
    Teresa reaches for the aluminium espresso maker, and pours herself half a cup. Then she fills the rest from the jug of hot milk and adds a spoon of sugar.
    â€œ For all of us?” Clarissa says. “What about all she has done to us?” The sentence hangs in the air, suspended above them all.
    â€œIt’s not a competition,” David says.
    â€œHa!” Clarissa says.

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