The Good Left Undone(122)

Family. We are the barnyard, the circus and the stage, the forum, the playing field and the track. We are the structure, the architecture, and the stronghold. We are the comfort, the solace, and the dream. Our connection is our sustenance and hope. If the survival of the family is left to whim or chance, consider it neglect and the family dies at the root. We must put the family above work, play, and ambition. There must be a plan to grow and prosper. Life is less without family, it becomes a series of events, a bore, a litany of miseries and a slog toward loneliness. Without a common goal, productivity and industry are replaced with a slow decay followed by want. When the family fails, so goes the world.

Silvio Cabrelli

1947


Olimpio went on to read Silvio’s coda.

I have told my grandchildren the story of the elephant, which was told to me by Pietro Cabrelli, my father-in-law. He heard it from a man he met in India many years ago. The elephant died at the end of the story, but through the years, I changed the ending because it seemed to scare the children, so I let the elephant live. Dear family, you are the author of your destiny. In your hands is the ending of your story and the start of a new one each time a baby is born. God knows what He’s doing.

Olimpio folded the document and placed it back in the envelope.

Olimpio filled Argento’s kibble bowl and gave Beppe a snack bone. He grabbed one of Ida Casciacarro’s sesame cookies off a tray in the kitchen and nibbled on it as he went through the apartment and turned out the lights. He made his way up the stairs to their bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and finished the cookie. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He performed the ritual without looking at himself in the mirror.

Olimpio returned to the bedroom. He folded the coverlet down to the end of the bed. He slipped out of his bedroom slippers and climbed into his side of the bed. He reached his hand over to Matelda’s side. He had kissed the same woman good night for fifty-four years, and now she was gone. All his life he had wondered what a broken heart felt like because he had never known its pain. Now he knew. He began to weep uncontrollably. After a while, he sat up and wiped the tears on the sleeves of his nightshirt. He heard Beppe scratching outside the door. He turned on the light. He got up and let the dog in, but strangely, Argento was behind him. The cat and dog had never slept in their bedroom. The dog had a bed under the stairs, and the cat, for all he knew, wandered through the house at night until she found a bookshelf to her liking.

Olimpio looked down at the dog and cat. “What are we to do, my friends?” he said aloud. Olimpio turned to go back to bed, but instead of going to his side, he went to Matelda’s. He slid under the covers. He turned off the light. He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the dark ceiling as if it were a bare stage in a theater. Young Matelda appeared on the stage. He joined her in the moment that they first met. He watched their love story as it unfolded. He remembered what she wore, how she moved, her scent and her smile. She had been the only woman in his life he could talk to; believing this might be the key to a happy marriage, he kept the conversation going. He loved one woman, and what a woman she had been.

Beppe jumped up on the bed and rested his head on Olimpio’s chest. His master was gently petting the dog when he felt four cat feet walk up his leg to his chest. Argento proceeded to take a spot on the pillow between Olimpio and the headboard. The three mourners soon fell asleep and remained together until the sun rose.





CHAPTER 38


Glasgow


NOW


Here, Nonno.” Anina unlatched the seat-back tray table on the airplane in front of her grandfather.

“Don’t baby me, Anina.”

“You should baby me. Check your ticket. It’s August twenty-eighth. I was supposed to marry Paolo Uliana today.”

“Should we turn back?”

“Not anytime soon, Nonno.”

Olimpio smiled. “Did you read the contracts that I left for you?”

“Yes. I have some questions.”

“I hope I have the answers.”

“If you don’t, the lawyers will. You’re easy to work with, Nonno. You say what you mean.”

“Do I? Your grandmother called me a mule. And I can be. My people were farmers in the Lombardia. When I came to Toscana to work, your great-grandfather Silvio gave me a job. He trained me. I started out just like you.”

“When did he retire?”

“He didn’t. But I taught him something too. Silvio would cut stone seven days a week. If he didn’t have a commission, he would take in work from other jewelers to stay busy when the shop was fallow. I tried to explain that the fallow time was the gold. Fallow is when an artist dreams. Thinks. Imagines. The constant grind of the wheel wears down the gemstone and the artist along with it. You’ll never know how hard it was for me to convince him to turn off the wheel.”

“Did he ever do it?”

“By the end, my father-in-law understood what I was talking about. I’d catch him strolling on the boardwalk, stopping to drink from the fountains. He’d play cards in Boncourso’s garden with the other old men. He learned that if you keep your head down at the wheel, you don’t see what’s up. You miss life.”



* * *





By the time Olimpio and Anina picked up their luggage and made it through customs at the airport in Glasgow, Scotland, it was early afternoon. Their first appointment with a new buyer wasn’t until the next morning. They dropped their luggage at the hotel and set out on foot to explore the city for the first time.