and sit here with me. Iâm much more interesting, not to mention younger, than Zio Aldo.â
âIâm not promising anything.â Oriana slides into a chair next to Marco and pecks him on the cheek. âI like to film everything and later decide if I can make something of it.â
âYouâll let us see it first, Oriana, wonât you, before you air it?â Clarissa says. âI mean, we should have the right to decide if we want this made public or not.â
Oriana gaily wags her finger at Clarissa. âAre you the artistic director here?â she asks. âOr are you the censor?â She shakes her head. âCensorship, censorship everywhere these days. How can an artist create?â
Mimà slaps her lightly on the arm. â Basta ! Be serious for a moment.â
Oriana turns to David. âHello, Canadian cousin,â 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. âCome sit here, David,â she says. âAnd letâs get started.â
âMay I film?â Oriana asks.
Theyâre all nervous, unsure.
âI promise I wonât use it unless you okay it.â She gets up and reaches for the camcorder.
âI guess itâs all right,â 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 heâs done, theyâre all quiet for a moment. Oriana films their silence.
âBe 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,â Aldo says, quoting Montale.
âSheâs embellishing it for your sake,â Clarissa says finally.
âZia Piera tells the stories the same way every time,â Marco says. âSheâs amazing.â
âHow can she remember all the dialogue?â Mimà says. âSheâs made it up to suit her.â
âIâve heard her tell stories since I was a child, and they never vary,â Marco says.
âSheâs the elephant who never forgets.â Teresa looks better today, composed, as if their presence alone has calmed her. âOr maybe, sheâs brooded over it all so much that sheâs forgotten what is real and what she invented.â
âActually, it sounds very much like it was,â Aldo says quietly. âItâs certainly what I recall, maybe not the minute details, but the events, the life, yes.â
They all reflect on that for a moment.
âI wasnât born,â Mimà says finally, âso I canât comment one way or the other.â She uses her spoon to sweep crumbs in front of her. âBut it sounds right to me. Everyone said Vito was bad, but I bet he wasnât. He was only reflecting the bad in others.â
Clarissa raises her eyebrows. âHow perceptive of you, MimÃ,â she says sarcastically.
âMom,â David says, frowning.
âAnyway, as always, Piera is making this her story instead of Vitoâs,â Clarissa says. âSelf-centred as ever.â
âLetâs not be unfair,â Fazio says in a soft voice. âPiera has done so much for all of us. Perhaps all she wants is to be heard.â
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 For all of us?â Clarissa says. âWhat about all she has done to us?â The sentence hangs in the air, suspended above them all.
âItâs not a competition,â David says.
âHa!â Clarissa says.
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