Matilda || H.S.

2

<<So, my grandma was british too and she basically learn italian listening to italian music. Since you're a musician, I think this is my best shot to teach you some italian>> not even an Hello or Good Morning. These were the first words that Sara said to me when enter the place at stupid early in the morning the next day. It took me a couple of minutes before what she said registered: so she knew who I was. Instantly all Jeff's calls started to worry me. What if she wrote something on Twitter and now everyone knew where I was? Cause here's the thing about being me. I came to terms with it a long time ago. But that doesn't mean that I liked. Also, it was important for to be left alone during this trip. Especially here. Sara was starting to list some of the italian artists her granma used to listen before I abrubtly stopped to say <<So you do know me>>. She immediately stopped, almost shoked by my harsh tone. She then composed herself, aswering <<If you're asking me if I recognised you, the answer is an honest no. You kind of remind me of someone that I saw on tv playing with a watermelon. Then you introduced yourself and, after seing again the song's video yeasterday afternoon, I kind of put the pieces together.>> to which I nodded, understandingly. She seemed genuine and I had no reasons to doubt her. She had been nothing but kind to me since I stood outside her Cafe. So that's why I was hesitating in doing what I hated to do <<Can you please not saying anything? About me being here, I mean>>. And again, the shoked expression crossed her features <<Why should I say anything? I mean, why should anybody say anything? It's rude and out of place. >> she then added, making me giggle <<Plus, I have no intention of having this bar fool of screaming girls, These are my last days here, I don't wanna spend them putting fances outside>>. I laughed too at her joke, relieved that she confirmed to be who I initially thought her to be. I'm a pretty good judge of character: since yeasterday morning, I couldn't help but notice her natural insting of being nice. Along with the fact that me, a stranger, was helping her repainting the place before her leaving it. <<You may be singing about watermelong as your job, but not today>> she added, with a smile, handing the roller to paint. I chuckled, taking it and immerging it in the white paint- guess she really wanted to give this place a fresh start, erasing its past. <<So, about those italian singers you were talking about..bring them on>> I said, trying to settle the mode where it should have stayed all along, while starting roll out the paint on a small portion of the downside of the wall, kneeling. She excitedly squealed, before pondering what to say <<Ok, so, I think we should start whit my nan's favorite. Have you ever heard of Mina?>> to which I almost choked on my own breath, shaking my head incredully. <<Yeah, I think I heard of her>> I said, deciding not to reveal that one of her cassette was stucked in Robin's car and I had listened to it for the majority of the trip. <<Perfect. I'll put on my personal favourite and by the end of the day you're gonna know the lyric, I promise you that>> she clapped her hands, before reaching for her phone in her pocket, linking it to a bluetooth speaker. <<This is called Se Telefonando>> and then she pressed play. I would never admit it, but she did it. By the end of the day, I knew the damn song.

***

It was my sixth day here. One day before I would have left. I started this trip a couple of weeks earlier, my focus on reaching this place, getting lost here, as Robin would have wanted to do. And I did. I let myself be transported by every single detail of this town, every smell, every view, every person. I spent my days exploring the same spots that my mom and Robin visited and helping Sara with the Cafe while she repayed me with loads of cups of teas and toast and the Dolce della Casa. We had finished repainting the palce a couple of days ago. Since then, I helped her loading the boxes left in my car - since she didn't have one working at the momen- to her place or, as she explained immediately, her grandparents old place that was now hers. It was a beautiful ancient italian house, three floors, brick red coloured. with a rich garden that opened to the town's view from the above. . As perfect strangers, the conversations between Sara and I were mostly small talks, never too deep. She managed to teach more songs, giving me the lyrics, both in english and in italian and even some basic italian phrases that I could use even on stage, when I would be back at it in Italy. Even though we didn't really know each other, I could say that I got to know her a little bit better each day, even just by observing her.  Even though she knew who I was, she never treated me differently, making me feel out of place. And she didn't say anything, as she promised she wouldn't. That was confirmed when I finally returned Jeff's calls yeasterday. He was calling to urge me finish this trip soon cause I got the part in Olivia Wilde's new movie. As much as I was I was excited to be playing the character of Jack, I couldnt help but feel sad to be leavign. It was like right there, in that moment, I was somehow at home because of the memories that that place shared within my family and, at the same time, I was discovering something new, a new me, the real me, the normal me, far from the scenes. And it was liberating. After the call with Jeff, promising him I would leave after Sara's goodbye party - that I called "an important event that I couldn't miss" in order for him to let it go- I stopped by the Cafe, founding it opened. I let myself in, founding Sara in the middle of the room, observing what was left of it. Now white walls were sorrounding her, no more books, just the dark wood tables and the jasmine flowers outside. <<Hey>> I said, to caught her attention. She turned around, smiling when she saw it was me.  <<Come on, I owe one last meal>> she said, gesturing for me to sit ouside, under the jasmine flowers. She came back with the usual plate of toast on one side, and the Dolce della Casa on the other, accompanied with a hot cup of tea. The first time I asked her, she just said "That's what my grandma used to make me whenever I came here as a child. <<You know, I'm about to ask you something just beacause it's my last day as your official handyman and because my mother would kill me if I won't try since she failed when she did it>> I started my rambling, while we were both eating that delicious super secret cake. Sara looked at me quizzicly before realizing what I was asking her. <<She was the one in the picture you had with you the first day?>> she asked, naturally. I just nodded, feeling comfortable to tell her, a perfect stranger, why I was there <<Yeah, my mom and my stepdad. He passed away a few years ago. He never got the chance to come back here. So I did>>.After the first day of repainting, I had told her about my mom being there for her honeymoon and her obsession with that homemade cake I even told her that she tried to get the recipe, but the old woman who was running the place at the time couldn't give it to her cause it was some sort of secret, a "family recipe". The soft, bittersweet smile that grew on her face when I told her that was explained by her telling me <<Typical of my grandma>>. It turned out this Cafe has been her family's business for decades: it was her grandparents' and before them, her granddad's family. <<This is actually the place where my grandparents met. My grandpa was working here and my grandma was a british girl who got lost in the Tuscany countryside.>> I almost choked myself when she told me that. How come that everyone seemed to find their way there after being lost? Something about this place made people gravitate towards it, with all the stories in the books that adorned every single surface available. It's like, with all these written adventures in it, this Cafe was like a different home for every single person who stepped foot into it. That's why I was gutted that day. It felt surreal how I felt safe in that place, being able to recollect my thoughts without thinking of the outside world. I didn't wanna leave, although I had to. Right when I was paying for what I ordered, I could clearly see Sara opening and closing her mouth before finally deciding to speak <<So I'll see you at the Goodbye Party tonigh? I know you're leaving tomorrow, but if you want one last piece of cake, feel free to come by. It may come with the recipe too>>.  I simply told her I wouldn't miss it, finding it the perfect way to end my stay there.