The secrets of the lake

Santa Croce del Lago

He took a log from the basket. She was extremely surprised by the man's action performed with confidential gestures, as a habit consolidated over time. Alexander placed the piece of wood on the brazier. Then, as if pushed by that impulse, with difficulty kept in check, he decided to tell.

- Well, actually, I came all the way up here looking for a person, er ... a girl I met a long time ago. Almost thirty years have passed and many things have happened in my life but certain encounters, even if brief, indeed, very short, leave a sign that time does not diminish, rather, it increases its intensity.Looking down and rubbing his hands nervously, he admitted, "My wife died five years ago."

At those words Marina gave a start. He gave the man a false look of compassion.

- Oh, Alexander, I'm very sorry.

- Thank you ... In these five years of solitude I have often thought about that meeting. I am now retired, my only daughter lives in the United States and I have a lot of time on my hands. A couple of months ago, driven by an unstoppable desire that never subsided, I went to the computer to do a research. I didn't have many clues, in fact, to tell the truth I had very few, a number: forty-four. And the name of a place: Santa Croce del Lago.

On hearing those words Marina opened her eyes and mouth wide.

 At the same time. He fixed his stunned gaze on the man's face. He noticed the small lines around his eyes, he also noticed that he was constantly rubbing his hands. The serious expression made him even more attractive. Marina has always been attracted to men older than her. But that revelation hit her like a whip.

- I met that girl on a warm Roman evening, it was August 21, 1990, my then girlfriend and I had a fight. That evening I was walking home when I was stopped by a young woman, she told me that she was from Veneto and that she was in Rome, with her parents and her sister. I have such a lucid memory of that scene that it seems impossible to me so many years have passed. A frame that will remain forever nailed in my mind. She was beautiful!

Alessandro stopped, asked for a glass of water which Marina promptly handed him. The tremble in his hands made the water overflow.

- Marina, are you okay? I see you agitated, please tell me if I'm boring you with my words. It is not my intention to make her uncomfortable or worse, to annoy her ...

- How? What a nuisance, go ahead with the story, for a moment I thought ... no, nothing would be absurd. But the coincidences are incredible. 1990 was a terrible year. Please continue.

- Okay thanks. Unfortunately it didn't occur to me to ask the girl what her name was and what hotel she was staying in, I was too angry with my fiancée. I remember that he stopped me for information: he was looking for Piazza dei Sanniti. When the case starts, everything is to be expected. At the time I was living in those parts, I offered to accompany her. During the short journey he told me that he was in Rome to celebrate his birthday, the day after, that is, on 22 August; laughing, I told her that I too was celebrating my birthday on the 22nd, but in January. I remember his expression astonished and amused at the same time. He had a splendid smile. Twenty-two plus twenty-two is forty-four. My house number! He said in a cheerful voice. I barely had time to ask her which street that number was on. And in which city. She, greeting me, replied: Lake of Santa Croce.

Marina jumped up. Without saying a word he left the room. He ran up the stairs. His heart was racing. A flurry of memories and thoughts flooded his mind. His memory. She went into her room, opened the drawer where she kept all the photographs of her and her sister. Confidently he took one and came back down as if something invisible was pushing it.

- This is me and this is my sister Elisa, the photo was taken by our father in Rome in August 1990 ... here, look behind what is written, it is Elisa's handwriting.

Alessandro turned the photograph now faded by time. Pencil the numbers in an arithmetic composition 22 + 22 = 44 and, in parentheses, a note in childish handwriting: house number.

The man's hands had shown a slight tremor as he looked at the image of the two girls.

- Yes, it's her, she's the girl I met that night in Rome. She was wearing this dress, I remember it well because it left her shoulders bare. You look a lot alike.

The man, overwhelmed by emotion, peered deeply into Marina's eyes. 

- I had noticed it before, same color, same shape, big eyes that look like two lakes. You look like twins.

Marina took the photo again, the expression on her face suddenly changed. Lips tightened, forehead furrowed. It became serious. Melancholic.

- My mother gave birth to two twins, Elisa and Rosa, unfortunately Rosa died just two days after birth. I was too young to understand, only many years later my mother told me about that mourning.

At that point Alessandro got up from his chair, the lack of cigarettes had never seemed so unbridgeable as in that moment. He took a last bite of the cake and fixed his gaze on the fire.

- Elisa, her name was Elisa.

It had taken a long time to pronounce that name. He did so by looking out the large window. His eyes were bright. The lake, gripped by the grip of the ice, had plunged into darkness but he thought he saw a figure. A woman was smiling at him. With closed eyes.

- Alessandro, please, tell me more about that evening, about that meeting, tell me what you remember of my sister, for me ... well, it would be important. Really very, very important.

The man turned to Marina, Iris meanwhile had resumed her place on her mistress's lap.

- Why do you want to know?

- Because I haven't seen my sister since that evening.