Chapter 3: Hushed Confrontations
Dear Luca,
We always wondered where I came from. I still don't have an answer, but things have been happening at Portorosso that I can't explain. Someone spread rumors that I'm a siren. At first, I didn't believe it could be true, but now it seems like pretty much everyone in Portorosso believes it, so here I am trying to figure out if it's true. I say that because I honestly don't know. It could be.
I have a favor to ask you. Your nonna gave me something, saying it was given to her by someone from the open ocean, like me. I can't wait to show it to you when you get back, but anyway there's a message inside that's written in a language by my people. I can't read it, and neither can your nonna. Do you think you could do some research about it and look for any clues on how to read it? Thanks.
Here, the handwriting is lined more regularly compared to the rushed, slanted writing of before – indicating a long period of time passed between writing the two sections.
School sounds hard. Being unable to swim while living in Genova must really suck. We can definitely hang out in the ocean when you get back.
From the Best Fisherman Out There,
Alberto Scorfano
Luca re-folds the letter on his desk with a sigh. He's covered in dry sweat from an hour of aerobic dance practice after school and still in his stretchy, elastic uniform.
Sirens… He'd heard the term before, but oddly enough he never connected it with his own people. I guess it's because I'm a reef dweller, he reasons. But if Alberto really is one, does that mean I could have that power too? He waves the thought away with a shake of his head. Impossible. My parents should know about it if that's the case – right? Well, they'd been ignorant and wrong about other things concerning their history before – but if Alberto went to see his nonna, then she should have told him if the Paguro family had that power. So it was unlikely.
Giulia's voice calls from the hallway. "Lucaaa, mamma wants to know what you want for dinner. Oh, is that a letter from Alberto?"
Suddenly she's at his shoulder, and Luca spreads his fingers over the words protectively as he leans over the desk, obscuring her view.
Her fiery red hair is glossy from having taken a shower after their class. Giulia asks in an unamused tone, "What? Are you guys talking about secret sea monster stuff or something?"
"Yes, actually," Luca retorts. "It's not something you need to –"
Giulia rolls her eyes and snatches the letter from under Luca's fingers. She gives an exaggerated scoff. "You guys always think you can hide things from me. I'll find out sooner or later."
"Hey!" Luca exclaims, trying to snatch the letter back, but it's too late.
"Una sirena?" Giulia questions, her eyebrows strewn together.
Luca finally gets the letter back, holding it possessively against his chest. "Who would start such a rumor?" he ruminates aloud. "Portorosso hasn't had much issue with sea monsters since three years ago, after we won the Portorosso Cup."
"The people there are more prejudiced than you think, Luca," Giulia says, waggling a finger at him. "There may be more sea monsters around town now, but I can think of more than a few villagers who wouldn't want to let go of their tradition that easily."
Luca bites his lip, his head rolling to the side. He knows she's right, but he doesn't want to believe it, for Alberto's sake. There's probably a lot more Alberto is hiding about what's going on, unable to say it in a letter due to his lack of writing and vocabulary skills, and well, being Alberto. If what Giulia said is true, Luca doesn't want to think how Alberto will react to the situation. He wants to sit down and write a letter in return, quickly, advising his friend not to do anything stupid or think too hard about the implications of his new discoveries about himself, but it will have to wait.
Dinner and homework come first.
. . .
Ercole Visconti is generally frowned upon by the populace of Portorosso, by bigots and well-meaning moms alike, but that was nothing new even by the time Luca and Alberto first arrived. Louder than anyone else about his opinions of sea monsters, the other residents merely disagreed with his level of outspokenness about it. In any case, the Paguros and Marcovaldos – Alberto being part of the latter – were glad to see Ercole publicly excluded after the events that transpired three years ago, which led to him spending little time in town at all since. Given the town's revelation over the last few weeks, though, the aggressive teen's behavior was welcomed for the first time.
"C'mon, if it isn't true, then why not prove it?"
Ercole looks terrible, honestly. His jet-black hair is slicked back in a grimy wisp, the bags under his eyes somehow darker, close to a sickly greyish-green. It was clear he came back to life and crawled out of his hole the moment he heard the rumors about Alberto, that hole being his family's seaside mansion higher up in the hills. Knowing he could get back on Alberto's nerves, it was his new mission, having nothing else in his sorry life.
"Even if I had the power to lure people into the sea," Alberto declares through gritted teeth, loud enough for their onlookers to hear, "I wouldn't use it against anyone." It's been a few weeks of people treating him like a bomb about to explode. A few weeks of hushed conversations, halted once his presence was known, and not being able to move forward until something is done about it.
Fine, if that's the case, perhaps he would become a bomb about to explode.
Ercole spreads his arms to the audience. "Hear that? He might actually have the ability to drown your children at will." Ercole turns back to Alberto and sneers. "C'mon, sea monster. Try it."
Alberto rolls his eyes in disinterest. His skin tingles with all the ways he'd love to clobber the pathetic young man before him. They're almost the same height now, but Alberto has clearly gotten stronger in the last few years, while Ercole has only grown thinner and scrawnier, even more rat-like – or catfish-like – since they met. "I don't have time for this." He tries to walk past Ercole, but he's grabbed by the arm. Alberto glares, fire in his eyes. If he snaps now, it will only work against him. He knows that. Violent, reckless, and possessing a voice that could lure people to their deaths? What a great combination.
"Don't forget, bambino," Ercole says in his ear. "You'll never be one of us. You'll always be an outsider."
Alberto shakes his arm out of Ercole's grasp. "You tried to kill me," he says, not as loudly this time. He really doesn't want to make a scene out of this, something that still fills him with fear. He still has scars from the men who saw a child and wanted to murder him. Harpoon lines gouged into his skin forever. Had Alberto been less conscious and Ercole more so that day in the piercing orange sunset on the beach, perhaps he wouldn't be standing here right now, able to have this conversation in the first place.
"So what?" Ercole snarls back. "You want to fight over it?"
Alberto shakes his head in incredulity at Ercole's levity, swallowing his fear. "Get lost."
This time he pushes his shoulder into Ercole as he passes. He doesn't care how their confrontation appears to the other residents of Portorosso anymore. The situation keeps getting more and more out-of-hand. Once, Ercole was just a kid, a bully with a posse of other bullies to project onto and release his pent-up self-deprecation. But his reappearance here, now, without objection from anyone in the town, means something more profound than his words – and it shakes Alberto to his core.
He isn't safe here anymore.
Ercole shouts slurs at Alberto's back but he tunes him out as best he can until he gets to the Marcovaldo house. His fists are clenched in pent-up rage as he storms across the piazza, and immediately when he enters, he runs his hands through his hair, kicking and screaming and shaking in their small kitchen.
Signor Marcovaldo's voice is firm but gentle around the corner. "Alberto."
"What?! You know what they've been saying about me! Why did Signor Bargani – why did he – why did everyone –?! AHG!"
Alberto's emotional outburst has Signor Marcovaldo at a loss. He can't singlehandedly change the public's opinion in Portorosso, though try he might. He doesn't know what to say to assuage Alberto's fears – only a combination of his acceptance and a display of the true hideousness of the oppressors' violence had done that three years ago.
"Alberto, it doesn't matter what they say about you. You know their opinions aren't true." He rests a hand on Alberto's shoulder, but the teen briskly shoves him off.
"You don't know that! What if I do have this power?! Then maybe I am a danger to everyone in town!"
In the last few weeks, Alberto has avoided revealing his worry over what he doesn't know about himself. It catches Signor Marcovaldo off-guard.
"If I really can lure people into the sea, then I –!"
"Then so what!" Signor Marcovaldo bursts over him. "You think people didn't fear me when I was a boy? What with my one arm and my large, silent demeanor? Of course they did."
Alberto's shoulders drop, registering the helplessness in his adoptive father's face.
The man's head drops, and he sighs, seeing Alberto's shock. "Nothing can make what you're going through any easier, il mio ragazzo. But don't allow these fools to convince you that you're something you're not. Someone you're not. Doubting and blaming yourself isn't the answer."
"But what am I supposed to do?!" Alberto cries, fighting the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "If I can use this power without even realizing it, then I – I really am… a monster!"
"Alberto, calmati."
Signor Marcovaldo places a hand on his shoulder, one that anchors him to this moment, and only this moment. He's standing in the Marcovaldo kitchen with the father he loves very much, and none of the rest of the world exists outside. Not Portorosso, not the reef dweller village, nor anything beyond.
Alberto's chest heaves; his mind screams; and finally, without restraint, he cries. He lets it all out, the fear and confusion and pain that's been building inside him not just for the last few weeks, but since he secluded himself on that island so long ago, away from sea monsters and humans alike, seeing as they were all his enemy, fearing his appearance and his way of life. They were wrong. "Papà, I… I really shouldn't be here."
He whimpers with childlike fear, like the many nights Signor Marcovaldo has stayed up with him before, listening to his confusion and loss. Things he couldn't fully understand, but wanted nothing more than to show Alberto that his father from back then – the reef dweller village – moving around and getting nothing but cold shoulders and stares from the humans and sea monsters he encountered while being tugged along – weren't what it had to be like anymore.
"Alberto," Signor Marcovaldo says. His voice cracks. "That isn't true. Who cares what Signor Bargani thinks? What anyone thinks! Luca, Giulia, and I – we believe you. We know who you really are."
Alberto wants to ask, And what am I?, since he doesn't really know himself. But Massimo's face envelops him in its warmth and sincerity. He stays quiet, opting to bury his face in the man's shoulder instead.
It's midnight when Alberto sneaks out of the household again, when the streets are silent and empty. Away from the place he's felt safest these last three years, Portorosso is now a place that many other sea monsters had come to accept as their home too. He knows, deep down, this conflict won't last forever. The rest of the sea monster population will fight for recognition and respect should things escalate any further. Le signore Aragosta, the Paguros – they weren't too far from looking more archaic and siren-like themselves. If their prejudice didn't stop with Alberto, it wouldn't stop with any of them.
The tower stands looming above him. White anchovies – sorry, he means the stars twinkle around the foliage and stones, distinguishing its outline in the darkness. The only thing guiding him in the night, his skin refusing to dry off in the lingering mist, are his scales shining in the dark. He clings to stones as he squabbles up the side of the tower, hands slippery from the moisture, tail hanging loosely below, scraping stone and mortar along the way, providing more balance and also more weight. When Alberto finally reaches the top, out of breath, he nearly slips all the way back down so he swiftly lurches himself up onto the wooden slats. He digs the oyster shell he received from nonna Paguro out of a pile of other cherished relics he's kept here for when he needs them, things that don't fit in his and Giulia's room, things he can't explain to her and Massimo – perhaps not even Luca. Alberto opens the oyster. He twists it back and forth to catch a glimpse of Cari Mirzaei's portrait on the pearly inside. His rugged brow, his handsome smile…
Alberto remembers Signor Bargani's terrified scramble back up the beachside, so many doors slamming in his face. Ercole's threats, mirrored against those from three years ago. It's like he's taking on the world all over again.
Except this time, he is doing it alone.
Alberto stands there in the dark tower. His scales weigh him down so far above land, away from water. The mist won't allow him to shake off his dark, iridescent blue, open ocean skin. Stars shine like glitter over the hilly coast behind and around Portorosso, circling enticingly, calling to him. Alberto leans through the window he and Luca peered through years ago, when they first conspired to visit the human town.
There are a few lanterns lit between the hills. An occasional vecchio uomo dips out of his house under the night sky to light a cigar, inhaling and looking up, soaking up the view. Alberto is doing it now. He chuckles softly at how the human world sounded utopic to him before – Portorosso the most glamorous establishment in all of Liguria (or Italia for that matter). He laughs at how the reef dweller village once seemed so distant and flickering in his periphery, as if he were a mere blip in its orbit.
"So what?" Alberto murmurs aloud. A slight breeze stings the soft fishy flesh on his face. He focuses on Portorosso as he says it, gaze gravitating toward the caves where he was caught singing and playing his mandolin weeks ago.
"So what if I have this power?" he says again. He grips the stones lining the bottom of the window. Feeling a rush of passion, he dashes up the stairs, to the rooftop, throws his head back to the mist and the night. "If I can sing people into the ocean using nothing but my voice and make them see its beauty, I'll do it against whoever I want!"
He spins, oyster in hand, until he can't spin anymore. When he stops spinning, the stars glitch back and forth from dizziness up above. His smile fades.
No, nothing he could do or say would change others' opinions or minds about him. He feels small looking up at the sky, wondering how much he could never hope to influence across his lifetime, just like the unfavorable circumstances that got him here.
Overwhelmed, he returns to the thing in his hands, running over its rough, calciferous outside with his webbed fingers, its interior artistry evened out by the rough edges and unpolished portions of pearl. Without the hard exterior, there would be no way to preserve the beauty found within.
He brings it to his chest, breathing deeply until dawn.
. . .
A few days later, Alberto buys a train ticket for the first time in his life.
Portorosso has been his home for the last three years, but it isn't just the townspeople or the scenery that made him feel that way.
When pale, rosy cheeks and large, brown eyes focus in Alberto's view, his entire face lights up.
"Ah – Alberto?! What are you doing here?!"
Giulia smiles proudly as Alberto mawls Luca in a huge bear hug. He crushes the smaller boy with his now rather beefy fisherman arms. Luca gags from the force of it, almost tapping out to Giulia for help. When Alberto lets up, and Luca has a chance to squeeze him back, it takes a few more moments of gaspy almost-sobs before they finally pull apart.
Luca is still in disbelief that Alberto is even there. "Alberto, wow, you're finally in Genova! I got your letter a few days ago but haven't had a chance to send my reply. Are you okay?"
Alberto smiles, the biggest, broadest smile he's had in a while, not even realizing they're holding hands. He's unable to look away.
"Yeah. It's…" He sucks in a breath, steadying himself. "Everything, it's… it's been a lot." Before Luca can voice the question arising on his face, Alberto hooks an arm around his shoulders. "Now, what about school? You said you were having issues?"
"Just homework. Same old stuff." Luca is bashful as Alberto drags him toward Luca's room. Giulia scoffs endearingly at them.
"Hey, fishbrains, I'm here too, y'know."
"Yeahyeahyeah, nice to see you too, Spiulia," Alberto says over his shoulder, waving her off with a flick of his wrist – which earns him an eye roll.
"Oh! I have something to show you," Alberto says excitedly. He gestures to a mandolin in Luca's room covered in barnacles, sitting by the windowsill in the faint afternoon light.
I've had most of this chapter written since last August and figured it was better to finish it than not. This idea is something I wrote completely on-the-fly without any notes, inspired by discussions with other Luca fans over the summer, so I was delighted just to get this far with it! Apologies to anyone hoping this would turn into a longer story. As of right now, I'm not planning to write any more, but perhaps if more Luca content is made in the future, I shall return to this story. Until then, shine brightly, my little fishies~
