Home to Italy (2 page)

Over the next few days,
people came and went. Relatives, friends, fellow parishioners. They'd stop by, talk for a little while, see if Peppi needed anything, and then be on their way. It was nice of them. As the days went by, Peppi continued his work in the yard. He mowed the lawns, trimmed the hedges, and raked out the gardens. He weeded all the flower beds and wrapped burlap around the more delicate bushes to protect them from the cold weather to come. It was a lot of work, but soon everything, at least on the exterior, had appeared to return to normal. Just as soon, the flow of daily visitors slowed to a trickle until one day no one came.

That day, Peppi chose to relax by spending the afternoon in the garage working on his bicycle. Peppi's garage was a bicycle lover's dream. From the rafters hung racing wheels of every description. On the wall Peppi displayed an old Italian-made bicycle frame, the one he had used as a boy growing up in the Abruzzo foothills. It was his favorite, a bright red Bianchi frame, the same type used by his boyhood hero, Fausto Coppi,
Il Campionissimo,
the champion of champions. A picture of Coppi, as well as one of Gino Bartali and dozens of others of all the great European cycling champions, adorned the wall above the work bench in the corner. There Peppi kept the collection of bicycle tools he had acquired over the years.

Peppi's latest bicycle, a beautiful blue Colnago, was suspended from a hook in the rafter. He took the bike down and mounted it onto his work stand. The shifting had not been working quite the way he liked it back at the end of summer when he last rode the bike. He turned the pedals over and pressed the shift lever on the handlebar; the rear derailleur snapped inward, moving the chain across the cogs of the wheel with each successive shift.

Peppi kept turning over the pedals, spinning the wheel while he made delicate adjustments to the derailleur. The whirring of the drivetrain and the distinctive ticking of the wheel as it spun gladdened him. It was a happy sound for Peppi that recalled to his mind the endless miles he had ridden over the years, the thrill of racing in his younger days, and the many friends he had made along the way. Save for an occasional spill onto the pavement, rarely resulting in more than a few scrapes and some torn bike shorts, nothing could diminish the pleasure he took in riding a bicycle.

Peppi paused and looked over to the door that opened to the back hall. As always, Anna stood there in the doorway, quietly watching him. In her hand she held a cup of coffee she had just poured for him.

“How long do you plan to stay out here ignoring me?” she chided him playfully. “I swear you love that bike of yours more than you love me.”

“I'm just adjusting the derailleur,” answered Peppi, smiling from ear to ear.

“Ayyy, that's how it always starts,” said Anna. “First the derailleur needs adjusting, then you have to true up your wheels—whatever that means—and then you have to fix something on the bike of one of the kids from the neighborhood, and then before you know it you've spent the whole night out here, leaving me all alone. I'm beginning to think maybe you've got a girlfriend out here someplace.”

“I do,” Peppi chuckled. “She's hiding in the rafters right now.”

“Well, you'd better watch out because one night you might come in and find out that I've got a boyfriend of my own.”

Peppi pretended to frown before breaking out in a mischievous smile. “Well, I could live with that if he knew how to replace a bottom bracket. I think the one on this bike is shot.”

Shaking her head, Anna came closer and handed him the cup of coffee. “Here,” she told him, “drink this to stay warm. And don't be out here too late, I've got a cake in the oven, you know.”

“I can smell it,” said Peppi, dreamily. “I love that smell.” He closed his eyes and breathed deep. As he did so, he felt Anna's warm hands caressing his face.

“Who needs children, eh,
carissimo,”
she told him gently, “when I already have a little boy to take care of…”

The wheel of the bike had long stopped spinning by the time Peppi realized that he was alone, still staring at the empty doorway to the house. He bowed his head for a moment and took a deep breath before looking back at the bike. Ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks, he turned the pedals over again. Round and round they went, turning the chainring that pulled the chain, turning the cogs that kept the wheel spinning. Over and over Peppi turned them, cycle after cycle, always spinning in the same direction, for that was the way things worked.

One December morning,
Peppi awoke very early. The sun was just creeping over the horizon when he parted the curtain to look outside. Everything in the yard was bathed in the dawn's soft glow. Looking up, he saw that, save for a few patches of gray drifting off toward the east, the sky was cloudless. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Peppi sat up and yawned. He stayed there for a time, looking at the empty space beside him on the bed. He turned back to the bedside table and gazed at the picture of Anna. It was an old photograph, a closeup he had taken of her years ago during one of their many trips to Vermont. Peppi loved the highlands of Northern New England. The few hours of driving it took to reach them from Rhode Island were more than worth the effort to him, for the mountains there reminded him of his native land.

The picture of his wife had always been Peppi's favorite. He loved the way Anna's dark, luscious hair framed her face, the mountains behind her a
sfumato
blaze of red and orange and yellow. It had been a sparkling fall day, Peppi remembered, the kind that made you feel that everything in life was at its best. They had been strolling along a road overlooking the valley, soaking in the beauty of the trees aflame in all their autumn splendor, when they stopped and sat for a few moments on a stone wall. When Anna had turned and smiled at him, Peppi couldn't help but snap a picture of her. The beauty of the moment was much too precious to let slip away.

In some ways, as he sat there in bed, it all seemed so long ago to him now; but at the same time it was like yesterday, almost as if it were part of a very pleasant dream from which he had just awakened. Slowly, Peppi pulled his legs out from beneath the covers and set his feet on the floor. With another yawn he arose and walked into the bathroom.

When he was done Peppi came out and stood for a moment at the dresser, wondering what clothes to put on. The yard work was completed, so he wouldn't be working outside. Except for Thanksgiving dinner at Angie's, he hadn't left the house since the funeral. He wasn't planning to pay anyone a visit nor did he expect anyone to visit him that day. He had no errands of any import to run, so Peppi glanced once more out the window at the brightening sky before opening the bottom drawer where he kept his cycling clothes.

 

When Peppi rolled up to the barber shop he could see through the window that Tony was already working on his first customer of the day. Despite the early hour, Gino, Sal, and Ralph had already installed themselves on the benches in the little waiting area off to the side. There the three sat, as always, hidden behind the pages of the morning newspapers, voicing their opinions on whatever issues of the day happened to interest them.

Peppi leaned his bike against the wall of the shop and opened the door. The cleats on the bottoms of his cycling shoes made a familiar clack clack sound as he stepped inside. Upon hearing it, everyone in the shop looked over at him.

Ralph squinted at Peppi through his Coke bottle eyeglasses.

“Peppi!” he cried. He tried to stand, but the arthritis in his hip was acting up that day, so he collapsed back down and gave him a wave with his cane.

“Hey, Peppi!” called Tony. “Good to see you!”

Before Peppi knew it, Gino and Sal were beside him, patting him on the back as they guided him to the bench.

“Peppi, Peppi, come and sit,” said Gino. “Right here, your old spot.”

“We've been saving it for you every day,” said Sal. “We were beginning to get worried that maybe you weren't planning on coming back.”

“I wasn't,” said Peppi with a shrug, “but I had nothing better to do today.” They all laughed because that was what Peppi said every day when he stopped by the shop to kibitz with his cronies.

“How far are you riding your bike today?” asked Ralph.

“Not far,” answered Peppi. “Twenty or thirty miles maybe. It's cold out there today. We'll see how it goes.”

“Twenty or thirty miles,” cried Sal. “I'd croak if I rode a bike twenty or thirty feet!”

“You're due to croak any day now anyways,” Gino needled him, “so what difference would it make?”

“Ayyy, I got a good twenty years in me,” said Sal, patting his well-rounded midsection with his pudgy hands. “Don't worry about me, boys. I'll be coming to the funerals for all you guys.” As always, Sal was wearing his jogging outfit and sneakers even though it was obvious he had not run a step in years. He tugged up the elastic waist of his pants and sat back down.

Peppi settled in on the bench next to him and reached for a section of the newspaper. “So what's in the news these days?” he said. “I've been out of touch lately.”

“Ayyy, just the usual,” said Sal.

“You haven't missed much,” Gino agreed. “Trust me.”

“All bad news,” added Ralph, shaking his head. “The whole country's going down the drain, if you ask me.”

“So who's asking you?” Tony chimed in. He had just finished with his customer and sent him on his way. He grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the hair around the barber's chair. Tony looked over to Peppi and gave him a nod. “What's the news with
you
?” he asked. “That's the important question. How are you doin' these days?”

For a moment they all fell silent and listened intently to what Peppi had to say. Peppi squirmed a little bit and looked down at the floor.

“I don't know, Tony,” he finally replied with a sigh. “It's hard to explain. It's like every day is dark, you know? Even when the sun is out it doesn't feel warm to me. I bathe myself, put on clean clothes every day, but I really don't care how I look. I eat, but I don't taste the food. People talk to me, but I don't really hear them. It's like I'm walking around half asleep. Nothing gives me any pleasure anymore, or any pain for that matter. It's like I can't feel anything.”

Peppi stopped and looked about at his friends. They were all looking down now too. Sal was the first to look up.

“Well, thanks for brightening our day, Peppi,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I think maybe now I'll go out and throw myself off a bridge someplace.”

At that they all cracked up, even Peppi. It was the first time he had truly laughed in many days. When they finally quieted down again, Tony came and sat down to take a look at the newspaper.

“Best thing for you to do,” he said, flipping through the pages of the sports section, “is to find yourself another woman.”

“He's right,” said Gino. “You can't go through life all alone. It's no good. You need somebody.”

“What are you talking about, Gino?” said Sal. “Your wife's been dead twenty years and you haven't remarried.”

Gino smiled and ran a hand across his slicked back silver hair. “What can I say?” he joked, admiring himself in the mirror for the benefit of the others. “I like to play the field now.”

“What field is that,” said Tony, “the cow pasture?”

Gino laughed. “Hey, don't kid yourself. It's a rare night that I sleep alone.”

“That's because your cat sleeps on the bed,” said Ralph. “But he's right, Peppi. Give yourself some time, then go out and find somebody.”

“No,” said Peppi, shaking his head. “Not to darken your day any more, Salvatore, but I don't think I could ever love another woman. Never.”

“Why not?”

“Eh,” Peppi said with a shrug. “What can I say? It's like my heart is dead inside of me, you know?”

Peppi couldn't begin to put it all into words. He had loved his wife with every ounce of his being, but even he was astonished at how desolate the world had become for him without her. It was as if Anna had filled up everything inside of him, even the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. Now, with her gone, it had all been drained out of him, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. How could he expect someone else to just come along and fill that terrible void?

Peppi paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “Besides,” he went on, “it's way too late for me now anyway.”

“What are you talkin' about?” cried Ralph. “It's never too late. You're still a youngster, believe me. Wait till you get to be my age. Besides, the way you ride that bicycle of yours all the time, you're in better shape now than most of the guys half your age, and a lot of guys half
their
age. Believe me when I tell you, you got a lot of life ahead of you.”

“Nah,” said Peppi, shaking his head. “It'll never happen.”

“So what are you gonna do with yourself,” said Gino, “just mope around for the rest of your life?”

Peppi turned to the window and gazed out into the distance. “I've been thinking a lot about that, actually,” he replied.

“And?”
said Tony.

“I've been thinking that maybe I'll go back to Italy,” said Peppi.

“Italy?”
they all cried.

“Che bozz',
what do you want to go to Italy for?” said Gino.

“Eh,” said Peppi, “I was born there. I might as well go back and die there.”

“But where are you gonna go?” exclaimed Tony. “Where are you gonna live?”

“Il mulino,”
Peppi replied, a faraway look in his eyes.

“The
what
?” said Tony.

“That's right!” said Ralph. “The family
mulino.
The little mill attached to the house you grew up in. I remember you talking about it a long time ago.”

“That's the one,” said Peppi. “It hasn't been used in years and years, but it probably still works.”

“But what the hell are you gonna do living next to an old mill all by yourself?” said Tony.

“Grind some corn, maybe?” suggested Sal.

“That's right,” Gino said, laughing. “Then you can invite us all to come over and stay and you can cook us some homemade polenta.”

“Ooh, I love polenta,” said Sal, “with some
sausicc'
and some nice rabes.
Dio mio,
why did you have to say it?
Mannagia,
you got my mouth watering now!”

“Seriously,” said Tony, “can you still live in that place? And is there anybody around there who'll even remember you if you show up someday?”

“I don't know,” Peppi admitted. “But Luca will be there.”

“Who?”

“His best friend,” said Ralph, “the one from Villa San Giuseppe. The one he used to race his bicycle with.”

“What is this, you know his life story?” said Gino.

“What do you want?” said Ralph. “I remember when people talk about things. It's about all I remember these days.”

Gino turned back to Peppi. “So what do you think?” he said. “Is this Luca still around? I mean, how do you know he's not dead or something? Remember, you've been gone a long time.”

“He's not dead,” Peppi chuckled. “I'd know.”

“But how can you be sure?” said Tony. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“I haven't talked to him since I left Italy.”

“Then how will you find him!”

“Easy,” said Peppi. “I'll just show up at the piazza one Sunday morning on my bicycle and he'll be there with the others, all ready to ride just like every Sunday morning. He's a cyclist. That's what cyclists do.”

“What a surprise that'll be for him!” said Ralph.

Peppi shook his head. “No,” he said, “he won't be surprised. Luca's been expecting me for a long time.”

“And I think all those miles riding your bike have finally gone to your head,” said Tony, ducking once more behind the sports page.

Later, Ralph left for an appointment with his orthopedist and Sal went to shop for groceries with his wife. Tony was busy with another customer and Gino was getting ready to go to the pharmacy. Peppi decided it was time for him to go too. He walked out the door with Gino and stood by his bike for a few moments.

“Where are you going now?” asked Gino.

“I don't know,” said Peppi. “It doesn't really matter. I'll just let the wheels roll wherever they want to go. I've been off the bike for quite a while now.”

“Well, it's good to see you back on it,” said Gino.

Peppi smiled and mounted the bike. He gave Gino a wave and pedalled off down the road, thinking all the while about Italy and Villa San Giuseppe and Luca and the mulino. Little by little, as he gathered speed, turning the pedals over faster and faster, he began to notice the glare of the sun, the contours of the road, and the feel of the brisk wind in his face.