“You seem to have a problem with moving on,” says Erich, placing his hands in his lap and leaning back in his chair to examine the other man.
It is strange and awkward. Stefano wonders about this relationship, if he can name it anything. Erich seems to have accepted this connection as something not extraordinary, and he seems to be attempting to leave little space for Stefano to hate him. The German is disarming, yet Stefano feels it is too soon to form any sort of alliance, to remind him that he worked for the regime that broke apart Italy and his family and nearly destroyed him. That Stefano must hate him and that he must not forget why.
“No, it is just unusual. Germans aren’t known for their sharing capabilities. They wanted Germany and most of Europe all to themselves, I seem to remember.”
“The past is done with,” Erich says, downs the drink, and holds the empty glass forward to Stefano, as if in some kind of challenge. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Stefano swallows some whiskey. The liquid is warm in the back of his throat, and the warmth spreads farther down his limbs.
“Rosalind said you have known each other a long time.”
“You saw Rosalind?” Erich says, his eyes locking onto Stefano’s.
Stefano explains the attempted stealing of the goose.
“It is not wise to give to beggars, not now.”
“They were harmless.”
“Then you have not been out on the open roads for very long. Out here, they can be just as bad as desperate people during the war. Charity does not return what it used to. It does not necessarily lead to gratitude anymore. Most who receive it feel they are entitled to more, and people will do anything for food. Besides, Rosalind can take care of herself.”
“She is lonely, I think. She is missing her cousin.”
Erich’s expression is unflinching, yet there is something there—a darkness to the look that wasn’t there before.
1941
A new subtitled American film had just arrived at the cinema, and Stefano took Nina to meet Beppe and his girlfriend, Sonia, and their friends Antonio (Toni) and Fedor. Stefano couldn’t help but notice the lengthy and appreciative stares by the men as he introduced his younger sister. Nina had grown into an attractive girl of seventeen, more confident and less in her older sister’s shadow. She had also grown interesting to talk to: she was socially conscious, curious about the war, and eager to be part of Beppe’s somewhat elite group of friends that she had until then been excluded from.
The previous year Stefano’s family moved even farther north, to follow Serafina and Enzo again, to support the government, to be closer to opportunity. Enzo had grandiose plans. There was business to be made in war. The North was where they would make their fortune, be close to greatness. In Verona, Stefano had leased a small town house for his mother and sisters, much smaller than their wealthy cousin’s.
After the film, they all went to Beppe’s apartment, and several other friends joined them. Beppe had moved out of his father’s house several months earlier when the tension of their relationship became unbearable. What little time Beppe would have on leave would be spent arguing with his father about everything. After the move, he rarely returned to his father’s home, though Serafina often stopped by to bring food and beg him to come home, but without success.
At the apartment, they opened wine and drank and talked. Beppe had served two tours of duty before the start of Germany’s war and one since, and he was losing some of his former interest. He tended to talk against the government. They weren’t supplying them with enough men, enough ammunition. Their captain made ill-informed decisions. The government was a mess. They were ill prepared to fight the British, and he didn’t like fighting the British. He had friends who were English. It didn’t seem right they were on opposing sides.
They talked about their dissatisfaction with the current government, and even Nina joined in, suddenly outspoken, and agreeing with the other men, while taking sneaky glances at Toni, who met these with just as much interest.
Toni was still recuperating from a shoulder injury and would not be returning to war straightaway, but he had other ideas, believing that their country’s alliance with Germany was wrong. It was dangerous to talk of war with anything but pride and loyalty, but the wine was opening everyone up to find mutual agreement.
One of the men was more serious than the others. Fedor and his older sister had been born in Russia. Their mother, a Russian widow, had met and married a handsome Italian foreign minister during his friendship talks with Russia just prior to the formation of the Soviet Union, and Fedor’s new stepfather had brought the family to live in Italy. Fedor’s sister had not forgotten her Russian friends and had later returned to the Soviet Union to marry an army captain before the idea of war had even surfaced. Fedor had only recently lost his two young brothers in this war that neither parent had supported. He had heard from his stepfather that many in the government didn’t like their leader. He had heard that some were planning to switch sides, to follow those in opposition and avoid further fighting.
Beppe, having drunk too much, was suddenly enraged by other news, of Jews in other countries being sent to foreign camps, of the deaths of other soldiers he had known for years, and he became especially vocal about his hatred for Hitler. Stefano suddenly worried about the darker tone their conversation had taken and pulled Beppe aside.
“Are you certain you can trust these people? Mussolini has spies everywhere.”
“Yes, of course! And, young cousin, I will do anything to keep you out of war,” said Beppe.
“But it is too late now! Tomorrow we leave. It is my first tour of duty.”
“That is why we must trust these people. By the time we come back, I am confident there will be progress made here, and you will not be returning for a second tour.”
“Your mother would die if she knew what you were saying.”
In fact, thought Stefano, Serafina was so fiercely loyal to Mussolini she might disown Beppe if she knew.
“My mother doesn’t need to know anything.”
Stefano did not feel so confident. He was not willing to make such a change. He felt betrayed in a way. He was following Beppe into war, and yet he had now learned the full extent of his cousin’s true feelings. He hoped that it was merely alcohol. That with his next tour he would feel renewed loyalty. Not that Stefano was overly loyal or supportive, but all this was for Italy. He had to believe it even if his mother, Beppe, and others didn’t.
It was time to leave when Beppe and Sonia disappeared into his bedroom, and Stefano had to drag Nina away from a close and private conversation she was having with Toni. On the way home, Nina talked excitedly about the night, while Stefano’s alcoholic high turned into a throbbing headache.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice your attentions, little sister!” he said to Nina.
Stefano had not been expecting the welcoming party on his arrival home. Teresa yelled at both of them as they entered the house, the shrill sound of her voice hurting his head.
“What kind of son are you? You should have been home. Mamma made a special dinner for you. You should have been here. She will not see you for months. And you, Nina! Where have you been? A single girl should not be out so late with those men. You will gain a reputation if you haven’t done so already.”
Nina was about to protest, but Stefano interjected.
“It was not Nina’s fault,” said Stefano. “It was all my influence. I kept her there. And those men are our friends.” He had thought about his mother during the night, but the alcohol and the discussions of subversion had distracted him.
“It is that rogue, Beppe!” continued Teresa at Stefano, while Nina snuck away, safely out of Teresa’s sight. “Always leading you astray.”
Stefano had then gone into his mother’s bedroom and turned on her lamp at the side of the bed. She was still awake, lying quietly in the dark and listening to the shouting.