Page 53 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

A silence, then an amused, ‘I think so.’

‘Paulie, you little devil!’

‘Might as well make the most of it, right?’

‘I want every little filthy detail when you get back,’ I said and hung up, turning to my housekeeper. ‘Rosina, please prepare rooms for yourself and Martino – you’re not going anywhere in this mess.’

Rosina nodded and shuffled off.

Having left our dinner on the patio table on the terrace, we all now sat down at the table in the kitchen, where I hauled stuff from the refrigerator and pantry and my aunts busied themselves slicing crusty bread,parmigiano(Parmesan) and pecorino cheeses, and prosciutto andfinocchiona, my favorite type of fennel salami. I fished inside the refrigerator and brought out mypanzanelladish and rice salad. And why the hell not? A huge tiramisu I’d been saving for the weekend. This was, in one way or another, the end of something, so we might as well face it on a full stomach.

As we sat and munched away without any appetite, Martino and Julian giving each other slight shakes of the head and sighs, my aunts and I did our best to cheer up the kids and Rosina, who knew that tomorrow there would be one hell of a clean-up to face.

But that was not the only thing that had been destroyed in the blink of an eye. My bookings would now have to be canceled and totally refunded, because thanks to the hunger and devastation of the locusts, our property, Colle d’Oro, looked like the surface of the friggin’ moon.

As we chatted away, a loud bang shook the kitchen, and the board covering the opening in my pizza oven shook as Maddy screamed.

Julian jumped to his feet and with Martino’s help, pushed it back into place.

‘It’s OK, sweetie,’ I assured her as she climbed up my lap like when she was younger. ‘It’s just the wind. Tomorrow, it’ll be over.’

‘You promise?’ she squeaked.

‘I more than promise. I cross my heart. Now, let’s finish our dessert, OK, sweetheart?’

Zia Maria looked at all of us around the table and topped everyone’s glass up with wine. We drank in silence, fortified by the warmth it gave, and by the strength that can only come in numbers.

‘Don’t worry, Julian,’ I said when we were alone for a brief moment. ‘Everything will be OK.’ If he was down, it was up to me to put aside my fears and doubts and pull him up, no matter what was going on in my mind. The devastation, my fear, my sorrow had to wait.

He exhaled deeply, as if he’d been holding his breath all evening. ‘I know, love,’ he said, patting my hip. ‘It’s just that… little Gracie – there’s no way I can even get to her. I hope they’re all OK.’

‘I’m sure they are. The stables are secured. Everything will be fine, you’ll see. Tomorrow morning we’ll get up early and check the situation. There’s nothing we can do now and worrying yourself sick won’t help.’

I was right in theory, but images of the damages hurt my heart. Julian had put his whole life into the property.

‘The crops – the vineyard was so promising…’ he continued, and I held his shoulder.

‘Julian, it’s not the end of the world. Most people will fare much worse than us. Look at Renata and Marco. At least we have assets to fall back on.’

He exhaled again. ‘You’re right. I should stop being so despondent.’

I studied him. Had he suddenly tired of being strong and depending on nature for his livelihood? After all, he’d never been a country boy. Was he tired of what I’d called The Good Life?

‘It’ll be OK,’ he agreed finally, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. ‘Let’s be upbeat about it. Actually, tomorrow I’ll go see if Marco needs a hand.’

‘Good man.’

But all the same I wondered if, besides an unexpected swarm of insects feeding on our crops, there was something else – something he didn’t feel comfortable telling me.

*

After an almost sleepless night, the next morning the farmhands came in extra early to assess the damage. Julian had run out across the derelict, once verdant fields to the stables just before dawn and was relieved to see the horses were perfectly fine, if a little rattled. He nestled on the floor and let Gracie, the newborn, nuzzle his head while he wrapped his arms around her midsection, talking to her softly. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, I got a view of the tender boy he must have been.

Luckily, Marco’s crops weren’t that affected. Ours had taken a bigger hit, having been practically decimated. We surveyed the lands by jeep, taking the time to check everything and take stock. Almost everywhere we looked, the crops had been razed to the ground as if an invisible acid had dissolved everything in its wake. How were we going fix this? The crops were not only ruined, but they’d also… disappeared almost completely.

And so had Julian’s serenity. I could see it in his slower gait, in the clenching of his jaws. Read it in his eyes and on the contours of his lean face. It was going to take a lot of work to replant everything.

In the last few decades all over the globe, nature had gone completely berserk; almond trees blossoming in December, hailstorms in July. But this could have happened anywhere in the world. It wasn’t Tuscany’s fault. So why did I feel I’d personally broken Julian’s heart?

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