Rewind and Play

2014

---

Alice

By the time we are back at the restaurant, it’s snowing in full force. It takes us two hours when thirty minutes would normally do to come back with the small Ka packed with big tins of paint, of good quality and at a half price thanks to Samuel’s presence. After that awkward start, we have chatted animatedly about music throughout the duration of the trip. On the way back, we chat about everything and nothing, the conversation easy. We clearly are on the same page wanting to keep things nice and neutral, avoiding getting too personal.

I find myself just enjoying Samuel’s company. I have rarely found someone so attuned to me, and I don’t want to spoil it with weird vibes.

Aunt Daniela and uncle Gio live across Il Cavallino, in what most likely used to be the gatekeeper’s quarters. A couple of years after opening the restaurant, they were offered to move in for a low rent by the owner of the place, the heir to the whole plot of land, such a good job they were doing with the restaurant. They have their own chickens and rabbits, and a small vegetable garden that produces the nicest tomatoes I have ever tasted.

After parking the car, I turn to my co-pilot: “Sami, do you think she is going to be ok with this idea? Am I being completely crazy springing this up on her?”

Samuel turns to me and smiles: “She is going to love you even more for it. Also, you are not springing anything on her. If she doesn’t like the idea, I can keep the paint, pay you back and no harm done. But if she likes it, we can go back to my place, get the rest of the stuff together and you can start working on it today if you wish. I understand the need to do something and not waste time. Let’s go, I want to come and say hello.”

My original idea was to just go in, ask for the keys of the restaurant, tell Daniela about my genius idea and then do a walk around with Samuel, who could give his professional opinion.

I am starting to doubt my instincts now, but Samuel pats me on the knee and says: “Come on, she’ll love it. Let’s go.”

We get out of the car and walk the few meters to the door. I ring the bell and wait, snow already accumulating silently on my head and shoulders. Samuel is just behind me, a reassuring presence.

Aunt Daniela opens the door, her glasses slightly askew on her nose, flour on her hair.

“Alice! To what I owe this surprise on our day off…” she trails off when she sees Samuel.

“Goodness me, is this Samuel Marchetti? One of my most faithful customers!”

Before I have time to say anything, she pulls us both in the house: “Come in come in, I am just about finished to prepare some lunch for the two of us. You are going to stay for some fresh pasta, aren’t you? Wait, what are you two doing, together and here? Come in, sit down and tell me all.”

Whirlwind Daniela ushers us both down a short, dark corridor, after taking our coats and hanging them at the entrance. At the end of the corridor lies a kitchen, its warm light spilling out in the unlit entrance. The building is old but under the care of Daniela and Giovanni, it feels homey. The kitchen is spacious, with a big table in the centre, half of which is occupied by tea towels. I peer under the towels and see a veritable sea of fettuccine. My belly grumbles when I smell a mushroom sauce of some depiction being prepared on the hob. The windows are covered with condensation, hiding the snowy landscape outside.

Samuel glances towards me, lips pressed together, trying not to smile, clearly enjoying the whole situation. I forget for a second why I’m here and glare at him.

Then, my silly, uncalled for, butterflies of uncertainty return. Samuel, as usual, sees right through me and, just before sitting down at the table, pats me on the shoulder, giving me an encouraging nod.

Daniela, who was stirring the sauce, turns around just in time to clock the gesture. She waits until we are both sitting down and leans on the stove with a smile: “I didn’t know you two knew one another! I am full of questions here…”

I love my aunt so much: she’s always been a very gentle, nice person, never one to say a word out of place. Samuel is smiling too, sitting comfortably in his chair: “You probably don’t remember, but Ali and myself knew one another when we were younger. We used to sit together on the bus to school. But I suppose, why would you know about it? We never advertised our friendship, I suppose.”

“Oh, that is lovely. Were you close?”

“More than anyone or even ourselves thought, I believe.”

Samuel doesn’t seem to be coy around my auntie, which makes me wonder. I turn to him: “One second here, before we get really personal… How come you two are so familiar?”

Daniela smiles again and starts moving the pasta onto trays quickly and expertly. She places them carefully on another counter, setting the table: “He is one of my best customers. Used to come all the time when he was laying bricks and starting the tattoo place, and even now that he has got a girl to cook for him at home, he finds the time to come once in a while for a pizza or some pasta.”

She comes over and pulls Samuel up. It’s quite funny, the tiny lady forcefully pulling up the tall man to wrap him in a tiny-bear hug: “Congratulations for your nuptials, Samuel Marchetti. I hope you are happy. Consider this a congratulatory lunch. You will have to share it with my niece and not your bride, but I am sure you won’t mind.”

The kind words still feel like a small, very sharp, dart shot directly under my sternum. While Samuel returns the hug thanking Daniela in a somewhat flustered way, I get up automatically to help her with plates and cutlery: “There is no need to invite us for lunch, auntie. You already put up with me every day!”

“Nonsense. I am delighted to have you back and I want to enjoy every moment you are around, before you go off gallivanting around the world again.”

“Amen to that” pipes up Samuel, who’s sitting down again, red in the face.

I shoot him a “Shut up” look that makes him grin.

Daniela follows the exchange: “You both have yet to explain why you are here. I can keep the questions about the rest for another time. Gio!”

Even for a mild mannered, quiet Italian, the shout is ear-piercing.

Uncle Giovanni comes into the kitchen from upstairs. Cousin Michele, the couple’s son, has been living away long enough that the second bedroom is basically a study with a spare bed. Giovanni stops for one second on the threshold and laughs: “What is it I am looking at?”

“They knew one another in secondary school. More details to follow.”

“Maybe, another day. Or not at all if you keep being nosy!” I interject, a small, self-conscious, laugh escaping me. I have never felt uncomfortable around them, always willing to share stories and being fully myself in their company, but this is weird even for me.

Giovanni smiles and takes a seat at the table: “First of all congratulations, Samuel.” My friend nods in acknowledgment. “Now. To what we owe the pleasure of seeing one of our favourite customers and our favourite niece together?”

Samuel’s knee bumps into mine playfully under the table and I almost fall off the chair. He is not not enjoying this, the prick.

“So, I was thinking, since I have a lot of time on my hands these days, of taking up a small personal renovation project with Il Cavallino… With your permission, that is.”

Daniela looks at me, her interest piqued: “Go on…”

“Well, you see, I have been thinking for a while if there was anything that I could actually do to help you guys. I am terrible at cooking…”

“… Oh, we know!” mouths Daniela to Samuel, who chuckles.

“…As I was saying, I can’t cook, but I am good at sorting shit out and organising things and I like painting, so I thought it could be a good idea to give the place a fresher look. Surely it won’t hurt, and thanks to Sami I will have the brushes and paints for free, and, also thanks to him, I got a big discount at the paint store… And time, which is something that you need for painting, we don’t lack, so I thought I could start maybe tomorrow? A room at a time, so that if we need the space, it won’t have a massive impact on the running of the restaurant… If that’s ok with you two, of course.”

I have been fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth, while talking, feeling a little like I’m fifteen again and in front of an examination panel.

I look up to see Samuel smiling kindly and my relatives positively beaming.

Daniela says: “That’s such a nice thing to do, Alice. Why wouldn’t we be ok with it?”

Giovanni puts one of his paws on my shoulder and gives me a one-hand shoulder hug: “You are such a nice girl, Alice. Of course, we will pay you back for the paint…”

“There’s no need for it, it’s really little money and I have some savings! Also, Sami got me a really good price.”

“Let’s move away two seconds from the paint, here. Sami? Anything you want to say?”

I look in his direction blushing like a schoolgirl.

Fortunately for me, Samuel’s easy-going personality comes to the rescue: “Sami met Alice at Una’s bar some time ago and Sami and Ali have been chatting. Ali is going to help Sami out with his spreadsheets because she’s a nerd and Sami is going to help Ali in the painting department.”

“There’s no need to underline my nerdiness every step of the way…” I mumble, throwing him the last of a long series of dirty looks.

Daniela is looking on with something of a smile on her lips: “And that there?” She asks, pointing at my wrist, where the new tattoo is poking out.

“That is a welcome gift. You wait until you see the sleeve I am going to do on her, I am planning the masterpiece at the moment. Don’t worry, she is going to pay me in full for that one, no amount of spreadsheet work will save her.”

Samuel gives Daniela a cheeky wink.

“Is the questioning finished for now? Thank you for the invitation but if the inquisition continues throughout lunch we might just get on with it and get the rest of the stuff done.”

“Nonsense! Questioning over, lunchtime to start in ten minutes if you are all happy with some fettuccine al sugo di funghi. I made it for tomorrow’s lunch service but I always have some spare.”

Giovanni disappears again to come back with a bottle of red wine and we all finish setting the table. Daniela produces, some minutes later, a mountain of fettuccine which she deposits, steaming, on the plates.

We talk about the latest town gossip in the calming golden glow of Daniela’s kitchen; all of us, in different ways, carefully tip-toe around any subject that could upset the moment of respite we are building around ourselves from the worries that no doubt will still be waiting for us all outside.

Full of lovely food and wine, I throw a look around the table. Samuel is laughing at something Daniela is saying, Giovanni is looking in with a smile on his lips. Everyone looks as relaxed as I feel. Samuel’s hand finds my knee under the table and gives it a light squeeze. How can he know what’s going through my head at all times is a mystery, but I can’t refrain from lightly squeezing his hand in return, finding his warmth under my fingers. I would love to leave it there, but it’s not wise, is it?

I let go of him as quickly as I have held him.

A slight flush covers Samuel’s face. Good, at least I’m not the only one feeling flustered.

“Coffee, anyone?” asks Daniela, getting up from the table and starting to prepare the moka.

“Yes please, auntie. Then I think we’ll try to get going before it gets late, I would like to let Samuel go back to his life at some point.”

“I am sure he is quite happy where he is at the moment, darling.”

Samuel face turns a deeper shade of red but he wisely holds his tongue.

I concede myself a smirk.

Who’s laughing now, Marchetti?

---

“Uh-oh.”

We open the door to the courtyard and everything is covered in a thick blanket of snow.

“But… It’s been only what? Two hours tops!”

“It’s ok, Ali. Let’s offload the paint and go home. We are basically in Castelnuovo after all. We will take it slow.”

It’s three o’clock at this point. Despite the fact that it’s not going to be dark for another two hours, there’s barely any light, the clouds low and full of snow which is still falling unperturbed.

“Yeah, fuck it, I’ve just had a lovely lunch and I love snow. I shouldn’t be angry at it the one time I get to see it.”

“Come two seconds, then.” Samuel moves towards the rear end of the courtyard, where a small country lane cuts through the expanse of the fields.

We look out onto the plains.

It’s so peaceful, in the way only falling snow can make it. Everything is white and the only sound is the hushed sigh of the falling flakes.

I take out my phone and, following a sudden instinct, gesture to Samuel to come close.

I snap a photo of our faces, the background a blurred canvas of whites and greys. We look happy, our noses are red, and it’s the only proof I’ll ever had that this moment is real.

We stay there for a minute or two longer, in silent contemplation of the darkening world. Then, I murmur, not wanting to break the spell: “I will send you the photo later on. Thanks for the day.” I lift my face to the sky, feeling the ice falling gently on my eyelids: “Now, let’s go before our feet get frozen. All-Stars don’t make for good footwear in these conditions.”

We make quick work of opening the back door to the restaurant and storing the paint in the garage of the place.

When we are back in the car, reversing slowly into the courtyard, Samuel says: “It’s gone well, don’t you think?”

“It’s gone great, I am not going to complain! Now I only have to get some shit done for real.” I think back for a moment at the nicest lunch I’ve had in quite some time: “My aunt seems very fond of you, and very suspicious of seeing us together, don’t you think?”

“Your aunt has seen me much more often than she’s seen you over the last fifteen years. I found it hilarious, the way she was looking at us like we were a puzzle.”

Well, there’s no way I can avoid it, now.

“I have to ask, Sami. Is eh, everything ok with Vittoria? You rarely mention her, despite the… Eh… Wedding.” The word comes out like it’s been stuck in my throat for a while. Which it has.

Samuel’s face suddenly loses all its brightness and he becomes tense.

He nods once, silent, giving me permission to ask: “How did you get together, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Samuel looks out of the window, his demeanour changing into something resembling defeat: “Well, I’d better get it out, I suppose. As you know, our first dating experience didn’t go very well, but then, it didn’t matter much because we were just teenagers and it was for a very short time. When we got back in touch and started dating again, I came to enjoy her quiet personality, her reliability, her no-nonsense-ness. She has never been the soul of the party, but you will always be able to know what is going on in her head and how she is going to react, what she is going to say. After dating some dreadful girls out there, I suppose I was relieved when I found her. I don’t mean this in a bad way. She is a great person, and she balances me well.” He sighs: “Things have been slightly off for the last year… There have been instances in which we have not been on the same page. I feel like she doesn’t like my job, for example. I think she would like me to find something more “serious”, like what she does. She is an architect; you probably won’t know that. Anyway… Sometimes I struggle to talk and let her know what is happening here,” he taps his head, “and that probably doesn’t help.”

“Yeah, I can’t blame you. I do that all the time with my mom. That’s probably why I was a bit nervous with talking to my aunt. I suppose I am always expecting somebody to tell me how stupid what I am thinking is.”

I feel Samuel’s eyes on me, studying me, when he answers: “Well, excuse me if I say, Anna might have traumatized you for life, because you are one of the smartest people I’ve ever known.”

Without thinking, I reply: “And Vittoria doesn’t know how to talk to you.” He never seems like he’s struggling to talk about himself with me, and that makes me stupidly protective of him.

“There, that tone has never changed.”

“What are you talking about, Marchetti?”

“You have a particular tone for when you get annoyed, and you just used it.”

“I’m not annoyed at you!”

“I know and I appreciate the sentiment, but my relationship with Vicky is my problem, not yours.”

That hurts in more than one way. It’s so bizarre, how I’ve just met him again and all I want in the world is for him to be happy, with or without me.  

I try my best to bite the retort down and not reply in a way that will make me the asshole of this conversation.  

Samuel stays quiet for a heartbeat: “I’m sorry, Ali. People have been meddling a lot with this and I tend to get quite defensive.”

“It’s ok, you are right, you don’t have to explain anything, or, even less, justify it. It’s just that… Shit!” The car slips under me and before I can do anything about it, we slide bonnet first into the ditch.