1 - Interrupted Aria Read Free Page B

attempted to pry our younger sister off my neck.
    Grisella stepped back but retained my hand in hers. “So what do you think of me, Brother?”
    How old was she now? Thirteen? Grisella had certainly left the garments of childhood behind. Her dark green dress was a copy of Annetta’s brown one. Although Grisella’s shoulders were slimmer, her trim waist and swelling breasts filled out the bodice to amply match her older sister’s feminine contours. An oddly extravagant scarf jeweled with bits of colored glass, likely the source of the spat we had overheard, brushed her neckline and mingled with a luxuriant flow of red-gold hair. Where had she come by such hair? No one in our family that I could remember had such a striking mane. Her bright, dark eyes, shadowed by bluish smudges underneath, continued to question me.
    “Well? What do you think? Have I changed much?” She playacted a demure expression.
    With perfect truth I said, “Grisella, you’ve grown up while I was away.” She smiled, seemingly pleased with both herself and my statement, and let Annetta draw her away to meet Felice.
    The next to greet me was old Berta, shy and grinning in her apron and linen cap. She sidled close and said, “How wonderful you sing, Signor Tito, like the beautiful boys in church.” Lupo followed, nodding agreement with his toothless smile.
    I was wondering how Annetta managed the household with the help of only two elderly servants when the street door slammed and my father appeared at the sitting room doorway. Lupo scurried to take his overcoat and tricorne hat while Berta shuffled down the hallway toward the kitchen muttering about supper preparations. The group by the harpsichord was laughing at Grisella’s boisterous efforts to convince Felice that Venice was more of a musical city than Naples or even Rome. My father met my eyes for a brief moment before finding it necessary to inspect the carpet that had covered his sitting room floor since long before I had crawled on it as an infant.
    “We’ve been expecting you, Tito,” he finally said. His Venetian accent was softer and more liquid than what I had been used to hearing in Naples, but his tone was sharp. He held himself rigidly and fiddled with the lace at the end of his sleeve. “How was your journey?”
    “It went well, Father, only a few short delays,” I answered slowly, trying to send unobtrusive signals to Annetta, mentally willing her to turn from the harpsichord and join the conversation. But the laughter by the window continued. I forced myself to raise my chin and keep my gaze steady. With my heart pounding so insistently, I could have been a novice on the conservatorio stage in my first singing role.
    “I see you’ve brought your friend.” The slight curl of Father’s lip and his cool glance toward Felice told me what he thought of my friend.
    Now Annetta came forward leading a subdued Felice by the elbow. “Father, this is Felice Ravello. He’s agreed to stay with us until he gets settled in Venice. I’m going to have Berta air out Alessandro’s room.”
    To my great relief, my father’s instinctive good manners came to the fore. “A pleasure, Signor Ravello. Is this your first time in Venice?”
    “I’ve never been north of Naples, Signore. The conservatorio agents took me from a village near Palermo when I was very young. I’ve lived in Naples ever since.”
    “You were born in Sicily, then.”
    “Yes, east of Palermo…I think.”
    “You don’t really know?” Annetta was quick to put a kind hand on his shoulder. “But what of your family, haven’t you been back to see them?”
    “I’ve had no contact with them. After the surgery, on the journey back to Naples, I came down with a raging fever. I think the men were surprised that I survived. Maybe that is why I remember almost nothing of my life before San Remo.”
    Annetta’s questioning look prodded Felice to continue. “Only one picture stands out…my mother’s face…very sad