I'd only met Zio Massimo once. It was when Papa got his position at the Uffizi when I was five years old. Zio Massimo and Nonno came for the celebration. I remember my uncle being a big man, much like my nonno, with a bushy moustache and missing arm. The fact that he could single-handedly run a fishing boat on his own all these years was an accomplishment in itself. I found him intimating, which wasn't helped by the fact that he didn't talk much. I think he said all of three words to me before. But I was determined to make my stay in Portorosso work. I'd probably be spending the rest of my life there; it benefited me to try and get along with Zio Massimo.
The train ride took what felt like forever. It was unorthodox for a lady my age to travel alone, but Papa only had enough for one one-way ticket, including luggage. Still, with the money he did save on another ticket I was seated nearer to first-class than otherwise would be. I had the window open beside me the whole way as I quietly read my book in my little box seat. I knew we were reaching my destination when the air suddenly became hot and humid- something I certainly wasn't used to. I was constantly fanning myself with the book's pages and my hand by the time the train pulled into the station.
I waited until the machine came to a complete stop and the wheel blew. A quick check out off to the side revealed my luggage already being unloaded. It wasn't a particularly bustling stop; I was the only one getting off the train it seemed. I approached the rail staircase where a local dressed in a suit was standing. I could tell he was a local by his tanned skin; the sun was intense here. He immediately looked at me, seeming very confused. I suppose this was to be expected considering the fashionable Florencia dress I was wearing. I gave him a smile and held out my hand expectedly. His eyes drifted from it to me with even more confusion.
My grin began to fade as I realized he didn't know what to do. Or rather, I didn't know what to do. It was so obvious in Florence or Rome that the gentleman minding the station would help a lady out of the train cart. But things were clearly different down here. Suddenly feeling embarrassed I withdrew my hand and made my way down the metal grate steps on my own. I exited onto the platform, instantly buffing out my dress. Looking up and around was this sort of surreal experience.
Portorosso was tiny compared to Florence; you could see one end to the other with ease. It was a little coastal town overlooking the sea. It was old too, even for today's standards. Paint was chipping everywhere and it had this smell to it- not bad not certainly not what I was used to. I also stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone was dressed in casual working clothes, with not a designer dress or suit in sight. Not that I minded! It's only that designer, fashionable city gowns were all I owned…. Papa- the curator of one of Italy's most prestigious art museums- would have a heart attack if he caught me wearing anything else. I guess Mama's high-born class and fancy tastes did rub off on him a little.
I shimmered there under the Mediterranean sun in my dressed laced with illusion tool, growing more and anxious to find my uncle. People were beginning to stare- stare and whisper. Heh, if they think I'm fancy they should see what real royalty and high society wears. Still, it was increasing awkward. All that faded away however, when I caught sight of this big, burly, brute of a man. He looked weathered, as a lifetime of working under the sun will do to a man. But he had this kind sort of manner about it; I could see that. He wasn't like those vagrants or miscreants you'd find drunk down at the bar. No, he was a real man in the truest, most profound, sincere sense of the word.
Wearing this delighted smile, I glimmed at him. For his part, he looked like he too didn't know what to make of me. "Ilaria?" His voice sounded just as gruff and grizzled as he appeared. "Zio Massimo!" Still smiling, I ran over to him with arms wide open. He flinched in surprise when I wrapped them around him in a hug. I don't know when the last time this man had been embraced but he definitely acted like it was an uncommon occurrence. He didn't even hug me back with his one arm. Instead he simply yet gently pushed me off of him, holding onto my shoulder and giving me a once over. "You're…. You're so big now," he exclaimed quietly. I nodded with tenderness. "Yes, Zio. I am seventeen now, soon to be eighteen. And you! You're looking well!" He shrugged uncomfortably, gazing away. "Ah, well. I'm alright. How about you? Train ride go ok?" "Oh yes! It was very nice. I've never seen so much of Italy before, though it did get quite hot near the end. I'll have to get used to the heat." "You will, in time. Come, let's be off," Zio Massimo turned to the side, signalling with his fingers for me to follow him. That's when we both noticed my luggage being loaded onto this bike and trailer situation. "That's all yours?" He pointed to my containers. I nodded, and then he sighed. He examined his mode of transportation, how much room was left on the cart, and me in my big, frilly dress. I also looked at myself and considered scenario. Then I grinned over to my uncle. "How about we walk?"
Uncle was surprisingly a very strong man. Not only was he able to lug the bicycle and cart up the big hill constituting the village, but also with all my luggage. I was shocked and in admiration of my uncle, whom was my new guardian until further notice. The whole way home he barely said a word. But those around us talked- quite openly too. "Who's she?" "I've never seen her before." "Is she a princess?" "She's beautiful!" "What in the world is she wearing? Does she think she's the queen of France or something?" Zio Massimo shook his head disapprovingly. "Don't listen to them, Ilaria," he told me under his breath. I didn't say anything, too afraid to draw any more attention to myself than I already was.
My uncle lived in the family's ancestral home. It was right near the water with its own little private dock and fishing boat. Uncle pushed open the solid wooden door for me to go in first. He then followed along behind with the bike, leaving it in the centre of the yard. Despite being an old family house, the place looked decrepit. Shingles falling off the roof, an overgrown garden, walls much in need of paint. Well, at least it gave me a project to work on while I'm here. Uncle lugged my stuff into the house, with me following close behind. He brought everything upstairs to a small bedroom with an ocean view. "This is your room," I was told. Not the worst looking room in the house but also needed work. This whole estate seemed to be one never-ending venture in my eyes.
While I unpacked a few things, Uncle made us dinner. I came downstairs to two plates of pasta laid out on the table. Uncle motioned for me to sit down, which I instantly did. He waited for me to take the first bite of food. When I did my eyes lit up; turns out he can cook! "This is delicious!" I exclaimed. Seemingly satisfied with this he gave a single nod and picked up his own fork. I watched him for a minute before gazing around the room.
"Did Papa really grow up here?" "Mmmm," he nodded. "And you lived here with Nonno and Nona until they died?" "Yes." "Really? Wow," a smile crept across my face. It felt good to be so close to family history like this. Uncle wiped his mouth and looked at me.
"Do you know why you're here?" "Yes. Papa explained it to me back in Florence," my fork awkwardly picked at my food a little. This was an uncomfortable if necessary topic. Zio Massimo contemplated this momentarily, taking a sip from his water. He set down his cup and looked me in the eye again. "There's no rush. Everything will sort itself out in time." "Do you… have someone in mind? Someone you think would be right for the business?"
A pregnant pause ensued. It was as if everything was becoming suddenly real to my uncle. He cleared his throat and plucked his fork back up again. "No. I've always worked alone. I don't know how the other… fishermen are." "Should I… be looking for a fisherman?" I inquired, trying my best to be good and obedient to my family's wishes. Though I could sense this was causing some internal tension with Zio Massimo. He took another hasty bite of paste. "There aren't too many fishermen in this village. Best to cast your net out a little wider." "Ah," fishermen metaphors.
Another pause fell over us and my uncle was watching me again. His eyes were as soft and soulful as someone like his could be. "Well, like I said, there's time. Why don't you focus on getting to know the village and the water this summer? You don't…. need to rush anything so soon." Understanding completely what he met, I flashed him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Zio. I'll do that. What else would you like me to do this summer?" "Huh? Oh, well uh… I don't know?" "Would you like me to help you with your fishing boat?" "No. You need good, strong men for that. You'd be pulled down to the depths in a heartbeat," he shook his head. "That wouldn't be good, considering I can't swim," I chuckled softly, glancing down at my plate. Man, did this guy pile on the food; there was no way I could eat all of this!
Uncle wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes still on me. "Thank you for coming, Ilaria. I know… this is a far cry from where you're used to." "Oh no! Not at all, Zio! You need someone to take over the family business for you, and if I can't do that the least I can do is…. help." "Portorosso is your home now. In time it'll get used to you as you get used to it." "Oh, I'm sure you're right. The local just need… some time to get to know me. They have to. My future husband is among them, after all." After I said this he didn't reply and the mood suddenly got awkward again. I sat up straight and straightened out the surface of my dress, trying to banish the unwanted feelings.
"Don't worry, Zio. I'm happy to be here; I've always wanted to see where Papa grew up. He used to tell me such wild stories about this place." "Yes, your father and I did have some good times here," my uncle's head gently nodded. My grin returned, pointing in his direction. "By the way, would it be ok with you if I wrote to my father? Just to let him know that I arrived safely and tell him how you are and how the village is fairing? I know postage isn't cheap, but….." "No, no; that's fine. You may write your father. Just tell me whenever you'd like to send a letter; I'll give you the postage fee." "Thank you, Zio Massimo. I'm sure he'll really appreciate it." "Well, it's the least I can do…. considering that his only child is going to be living with me from now on."