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Serafina Marcellioli: Episode 1.
Many years ago during the medieval era of Italiano; was she born. Serafina Marcellioli. In the beautiful sestiere San Marco of Venice, she was gifted on earth. She was an angelic being from heart to skin. Calista was born with blue eyes shining as bright as the blue moon glistening with pride in the peaceful nights at Riva Degli Schiavoni. Her pale skin was outshined by her glamorous and golden hair she took great pride in. Her tanned and pinched nose with a thin pair of lips giving all who walked past the liveliest and softest smile; making even those who despise life; feel forced to smile and enjoy. She wears on her head a blue bandanna with white crescents and stars, covering both her forehead and part of her wavy golden hair. She dresses in beautiful and heavy dresses with numerous layers of thick fabric made by her grandmother and a brown apron on top of it; as she always rolls her long sleeves to avoid them from getting dirty.
Calista lives with her grandmother; Angelina Marcellioli. An endearing woman who has great courage and did everything in her reach to raise Calista like a strong and brave woman. Nonna (grandmother) Angelina was in good shape and form from both her life and outer appearance despite her age.
Calista and her grandmother run a business that earlier used to be what her mother; a great artist had helped with too. Calista was born with a gifted talent to draw and bring emotions to life in the form of painting. Calista and her nonna took great pride in all their artworks which were sold to many from even the royal and noble families such as the Contarini and Pisani families.
Calista’s father Buonne; a strong believer of catholicism and an Italian with strong and rather racist ideas and viewpoints of not only other nations but of the same red blooded Italians in other regions of Italy such as Florence, Sicily and Rome as well, carried great prejudice wherever he went and was trying his utmost best to force those ideologies to his daughter who had a much purer heart to his disappointment. He had laid numerous rather pointless rules in the house whenever he was around. A few of them were that; no one was allowed to speak English or any other language except Italian during his presence, no one was allowed to read or learn new things or explore culture at home except himself, reflecting his idea of how women were to be at home and men were to do the hard work which without his knowing were things both Calista and Nonna Angelina; his mother, disagreed with.
As for Calista’s mother, not much was known besides the fact that she was a great artist and had ended her life two weeks after Calista’s birth in the wake of her turning to a psychotic person due to some unknown reason her father had never mentioned and wished never to do.
Perfezione.
Chapter 01.
A Brand New Chapter.
Mr. Buonne was headed off for a business trip to the Strozzi Bank in Florence for commercial trade, leaving Calista and her grandmother alone in their little house.
“Calista, vado a Firenze e voglio che tu ti prenda cura di tua nonna. Vendi i tuoi disegni e non fare nulla che sai non mi renderebbe felice. Inteso?” He asked Calista in a rather stern voice.
“Si(yes) , papa,” said Calista in a pale and innocent voice as her father kissed her warm chin with his cold lips and left in his carriage along with a few of his good colleagues.
She skipped her way to the kitchen through the narrow and short corridor with plants on either side to see her grandmother chopping some carrots.
“Now aren’t you one happy girl?” Nonna Angelina jokingly questioned seeing Calista with a bright smile on her face as she chuckled.
“Aren’t I always?” said Calista. “But I am extra happy today! You and I can finally draw in peace without papa!”
“Now, Calista, as much as you hate him, he still is your father after all. So, show some respect, will you?” said nonna with a slightly stern voice mixed with a playful tone. “So, what’d he say as he left?”
“He told me that he’s going to Florence and wanted me to take care of you, sell drawings and not do anything mischievous,” said Calista quite playfully. “Let me help you there,”
She joined her grandmother and cooked a warm Minestra, with boiled vegetables, barley, and rice in the vegetable boiled water used as the broth. They sliced some bread with cheese and roasted rabbit meat from earlier that day. She served it all on the table as she reluctantly poured a glass of Malvasia wine which had a great aroma for her grandmother who was addicted to it.
They both sat down at the table and started eating.
“I still don’t understand why Papa thinks that Venice is the best. Fighting over who has the better wine, the better art, the better everything; it’s just so ridiculous and childish,” said Calista as she helped herself to a whole chunk of rabbit meat.
“Well, I guess, your father doesn’t even have the understanding of an 18 year old,” said nonna.
“You know, nonna,” said Calista as she chucked a piece of the parmigiano-reggiano in her mouth and gazed at the sky through the broken part of their roof. “‘By God, if women hadde written stories, as clerkes han withinne hire oratories, they wolde han written of men moore wikkednesse, than all the mark of Adam may redresse.’ that was part from ‘The Wife of Bath’s Prologue’, by Geoffrey Chaucer. I read it after I found it in the attic. It’s a very interesting passage. It says that if women had the chance to tell their own stories and perspectives, they might highlight the shortcomings and faults of men, just as men's stories often portray women negatively. I realize that it’s all about perspective nonna. Right now, we may be nice people and heroes. But in somebody else’s story we are always the villain. It’s people like papa, that make the world an unpleasant place to live in, because they blindly judge and compete while criticizing people without knowing what they are going through. Not everything is a competition. It’s cruel and mean,”
Nonna had finished drinking the entire glass of wine as Calista ended her story and was too drunk to stay up and help her clean the dishes.
Calista put nonna to bed and cleaned the house as she walked out of it and through the silent night to her favorite place in all of Venice. Riva Degli Schiavoni. The beautiful blue river was as calm as ever with the peaceful moon shining down upon it.
Calista jumped onto one of the gondolas as she stared at the sky and the water, feeling a sense of safety and love she had never felt from her father. The moon felt like what she had imagined would feel like to have a mother who loved you ever so much. If that was what it really felt like, she would do anything in the skip of a heart beat to get her mother back.
“The busy lark, the messenger of day, Saluteth in her song the morrow gray; And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright, That all the orient laugheth at the sight, And with his streamés drieth in the greves, The silver droppés hanging on the leaves.” Calista murmured to herself a part from a book she adored by Geoffrey Chaucer as she admired every bit of the beautiful river when she could.
Chapter 02.
An Idea.
The next morning, drunk Nonna woke up to the smell of cheese stuffed pasta, frittata, the gritty pottage and a sallet with tomatoes Calista had grown on her own a few weeks back.
She made her way to the kitchen despite feeling extremely dizzy as she had had an unhealthy amount of wine for a 75 year old the previous night.
“Morning, nonna!” said Calista. “The pottage will be on the table in 4 minutes. I wanted to serve it hot,”
“Oh, alright, alright! Take your time,” said Nonna, nearly bumping her head on the wall in her pajamas.
They both sat for breakfast, as Calista served the food to her grandma.
“Grandma, last night an idea struck me, and I think we can make it work with some extra effort,”
“Now, what is this ‘brilliant’ idea of yours?”
“So, drawing is amazing! I love how we have the skill to bring emotions to life, you know; like making the impossible seem possible. But, what if we expanded a bit more from art?”
“I’m listening,” said Nonna rather eagerly.
“I want to start cooking.”
There was a moment of silence at the table.
“All our families have been artists, Calista, nobody dared to ever move away, or expand or try something new. We were artists then, we are artists now. But you know I’ve loved you the same way your mother would’ve loved you, dearie. I was with you when you were a toddler, and so with you shall I be for as long as I live. You can do it if you want to, I will help you,” said Nonna.
If the blue moon she saw last night could talk, its voice would’ve sounded exactly like her Nonna’s was the only thought going on in Calista’s head, as she rose from her chair with her love having been increased than from the time she sat down on that same chair a few moments ago. She walked to her nonna and said, “Ti voglio bene nonna,” (I love you, grandma)
Calista spent all day thinking for new recipes, and cuisines as she roamed around San Marco, pondering as she rowed her gondola to the other side of the bridges at Riva Degli Schiavoni, admiring the architectures of Basilica di San Marco, crossing the Ponte di Rialto near the Grand Canal, walking through the Church of San Moise as she listened to the angelic singing of the choir and enjoying every moment of walking by Scuola Grande di San Marco.
She returned home with a piece of paper wetted with large letters written in thick black ink, late in the evening.
They had some pottage and bread for dinner that night.
“So, what’d you come up with, dearie?”
“I gave it a mix of traditional culture and modern food. I’ll start making them early tomorrow,”
Dawn broke and Calista was ready for an enthusiastic day. She headed to the kitchen and realized that the weather was rather cold and misty.
She made her family’s traditional pasta dough and cut it into the classic rectangular shape, and boiled it in warm water for a while as she chopped and prepared a few vegetables such as carrots, leeks, bell peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes and washed some fresh basil leaves after plucking them from her garden.
After the pasta was boiled; she tossed it around in a pot with some tomatoes, onions, garlic and added a few slices of roasted and seasoned lamb meat while she boiled the rest of the vegetables. In another pot Calista added the boiled vegetables and mashed them a bit, creating a mushy and soft texture as she poured some milk in and sprinkled it with lots of spices. She added this gritty mixture, which looked like soup, into the pasta dish and finished it with some mozzarella, parmigiano-reggiano and the fresh basil leaves on top. She poured a bit into a bowl and left the rest in the pot.
“Nonna! Can you please try this for me?” she asked
Nonna drank a spoonful of it and was mesmerized. With her eyes widened with amazement.
“Questa è la perfezione! (this is perfection)” gasped Nonna. “You know, dearie-, your mother was never really a ‘good’ cook, neither was your fathe-, but-, but, this is just perfect! It hits the spot and it is perfect on a gloomy and cold day like today! What are you going to call it?”
Calista thought for a while still with a bright smile on.
“How about Perfezione? Because that was the first word you said when you tried it,”
“Bravo, Calista! It’s wonderful! You should sell it for at least 1.5 euros!”
“Oh no, nonna! That’s too expensive! Maybe 1 euro,”
“It’s worth more than that!” argued nonna but finally had to agree with Calista.
Calista arrived at Mercato di Rialto, one of the busiest streets in Italy. She was taken-aback by seeing a little boy shivering in the corner of the road with very little clothing and an apple which seemed to be stolen in his hand. Calista poured some of her Perfezione into a bowl and grabbed a slice of buttered bread. She walked towards the child and gave him an ensuring and kind smile, as she lent the bowl and bread to him without the utterance of a single word and left back to her stall. The boy waited for her to leave and gulped it all up in a single bite leaving no trace of food. Many of the poor people carrying large bulks of grains and other ingredients to the noble families, stopped by just to get the warmth of the pot and then loved the Perfezione.
Night fell and Calista was packing her things to go home, she had earned around 11 euros that day.
Then she saw an empty bowl on the table she used with three beautiful pink flowers and a stone which had the letters ‘G-R-A-Z-I-E’ carved on it. She felt a sense of warmth and relief that she had filled the stomach of a starving child that day.
Chapter 03.
Contarini.
Word spread about the Perfezione and eventually even the noble families of Contarini and Pisani had heard about the famous Perfezione. Inside the noble houses of the Contarini family, was the baby who resulted in making the queen severely worried; by refusing to eat or drink anything even though he was already 1 year old.
One day the nanny of the baby was to take care of him as his mother had fallen into deep sleep due to a bad headache. The nanny tried several times to try and feed the baby anything at all but found herself seated on the chair near the baby after several hours, feeling defeated. She was extremely exhausted and decided to eat the Perfezione she had bought on her way to the palace and was relieved by the fact that it was still warm and delicious. She had a few spoonfuls and realized that the baby had stopped crying and was drooling as he stared directly at her Perfezione. The nanny decided to give one last try and took a small amount of it and fed it to the baby. Surprisingly, the baby gulped it down and gave a lively giggle that echoed through the royal halls. The nanny controlled her emotions and kept her excitement compressed as she slowly gave the baby another spoon, and another, and another until the baby had eaten the entire Perfezione! The nanny couldn’t keep her excitement in anymore and started dancing up and down and clapping her hands and carrying the baby in her arms as the other maidens ran to the room with Beatrice Contarini with anxious faces.
“My baby! What happened to him?” questioned Beatrice as she took the baby out of the nanny’s hands and cuddled him tightly.
“My highness, he finally ate a full meal!” the nanny said with sheer joy and excitement.
“I refuse to believe!” said Beatrice with pure disbelief.
The nanny explained it all to Beatrice until she finally was convinced and over the moon.
“Who is this noble man who has fulfilled my only wish, to keep my baby healthy and happy? We must reward him,”
“My highness, it is not a man but rather a woman aged 18 or 19,”
“Whoever it is, must be rewarded. Bring her to the palace the first thing tomorrow morning! That is an order,”
A new day begins and Calista is greeted once again by the now healthy looking little boy whom she had once seen without a single piece of flesh in his body. He gives Calista five pretty flowers and enjoys the taste of the Perfezione.
“Oh dearie, do you have a name, I haven’t known of?”asked Calista and the poor boy blindly stared at her with confusion. “Oh, oh, right! Silly me! Hai un nome?”
“No, Signora (no, ma’am),” said the little boy.
“Va bene se ti do un nome? (Is it okay if I give you a name?)”
“Nessun problema, signora (no problem, ma’am)”
“How about… hmm… ah! Piedro! Ti piace il nome Piedro?”
“Lo ADORO! (I love it),” said little Piedro.
“Bene, Piedro, ti ho portato dei bellissimi vestiti che mia nonna ha cucito per te. Puoi lavarti nel lago e io te li presterò, poi potrai goderti un'altra tazza della mia Perfezione! (Well, Piedro, I brought you some beautiful clothes that my grandmother sewed for you. You can wash yourself in the lake and I will lend them to you, then you can enjoy another cup of my Perfection!)” said Calista and Piedro rushed to the lake happier than ever before she could even finish her sentence.
Calista felt really happy and was arranging the cups and trays for the day as four guards from the noble family made their way arrogantly through the crowd, frightening Calista as they stopped at her stall.
“Beatrice Contarini, wishes to see you today and she wants you to bring your ‘Perfezione’ and its recipe,” they said.
Calista had been lectured and taught over and over by her father to never question the noble family’s decisions and just do as they say. Although she did not wish to keep her head down to people with the same blood, she was just too astounded and afraid to speak. She was led to the noble house of the Contarini's with the four guards as she heard the hustle among people gossiping and wondering what had happened.
The house was what Calista would describe as a palace, with walls made with white marble stones, and well-maintained gardens with trees shaped like kings and other royal figures mostly from the Contarini family, along with water fountains, and flowers arranged exactly in the order of the rainbow, and doors made with fine wood and real gold and silver for every handle. Although it was true royalty, something about it was very isolated and abandoned, everything was disgustingly systematic. From the buildings and trees to the children who were ‘happy’; figures and emotions were both forced the same way how Calista looked ‘happy’ during her father’s presence although only those who truly knew her like her nonna knew what real happiness looked like on Calista’s face.
She was taken to the room of Beatrice who was rocking her baby’s cradle.
Beatrice stood up as Calista bowed at her.
She signed the guards to leave.
"Pray tell, your origins, your lineage, and the path that led thee hence, for such knowledge weighs heavy in my consideration. Yet, in this moment, my cherished offspring claims precedence, and thus must I temper my sentiments. I beseech thee, bestow upon me a portion of thy Perfezione, dear one, for my palate awaits the taste of thy culinary excellence." she said.
With even her greatest efforts, understanding Beatrice was impossible. Therefore the maid helped her to understand what she meant and asked her to lend a serving of the Perfezione which was what she did with no hesitation.
"Beholding my progeny partake of sustenance is the singular desire that has consumed my very being, for I languished in dire distress pondering the dire fate should nourishment elude him. Thus, unto thee, I extend the full measure of my gratitude, for thou art deserving of such acknowledgment." said Beatrice and with much difficulty Calista understood her words.
"Pray tell, noble offspring, by what name art thou known?"
“My-m-name is Calista, my lord,” she said as she stuttered.
"Ah, doth thou possess solely the appellation Calista, devoid of any accompanying second or first name?"
“Oh, no, no, my highness. My name is Serafina Calista Marcellioli,”
The smile on Beatrice’s face was wiped off and had turned into extreme horror. She was visibly confused and astounded. There was silence filling the whole room with only the baby’s giggling as the maidens fed the Perfezione to him.
“And your- your father must be… Buonne di Marcellioli,” said Beatrice forgetting all royalty.
“Yes, my lady,” said Calista."Your Majesty, might I inquire if my father, an esteemed merchant in question, has had the honor of conducting any business within the auspices of your realm?"
With no response in the silent air, Beatrice stood from her chair.
"I humbly request a private audience with you at your earliest convenience." said Beatrice and led her through a hallway that kept getting narrower every step they took and came to an end where it felt no longer as if you were in a royal palace but a poor peasant’s house.
She opened the doors to a hall filled with dust and webs with no sense of human touch for more than a decade. There were large red curtains on certain walls and nothing more or less than blown out candles and dried flowers in that long hall.
“Have you any knowledge of your mother?” she asked.
“That she was a great artist, and passed away from a psychological problem soon after my birth, yes, my lady.”
“LIES! LIES!” She yelled. The tone of one who has been betrayed.
“By whose lips were these tales spun?”
“My father told me so, my highness,” said Calista, extremely terrified as she started praying for her life.
“Such revelations from your father would not astonish me." she said with great rage and pain in her voice.
"Know this, the demise of your mother was not by natural means,” she said with great pain. “Her passing was a result of treachery. And the perpetrator, you may wonder? It is none other than the individual who deceives you presently with falsehoods, the very same culprit behind her demise."
“Your highness, I mean no disrespect, but I am confused,” said Calista praying louder than ever.
Beatrice walked to the center wall and pulled down the large red curtain to reveal the image of a woman with golden brown hair, blue eyes, a pink nose, wearing a royal dress in scarlet silk.
"Behold, this lady is your mother."
"It is revealed that your father and mother led a splendid life, reveling in joyous moments. Your mother, with her exquisite artistry, tended to her creations while nurturing you, and your father prospered in his commercial endeavors. However, shortly after your birth, your father sought to leverage your mother's ties to the esteemed Contarini family for financial gain in trade. Alas, this ambition clashed with your mother's principles, especially as her own father lay gravely ill. She valiantly resisted, believing it improper to pursue trade while her father's life ebbed away. Her steadfastness prolonged your grandfather's life, though tragically, after his passing, she met a similar fate. Only your nonna knew the truth, imploring us to silence. Though we honored her wish, it remains a decision I did not endorse. This revelation establishes your noble lineage."
“So, all I have ever known, all I was taught, all I believed was just a big fat lie. A lie of someone who wanted to get rid of guilt. A lie of someone who killed one who I would’ve daringly loved. A lie. A lie. A lie,” Calista started hallucinating and feeling dizzy as she contemplated all her life choices. “Even the sole individual in whom I placed unwavering trust concealed this deception from me. I have been naught but a pawn in his insidious machinations.”
Calista broke down in the middle of the hall as her tears echoed in the empty hallway. Tears fell down the cheeks of Beatrice as well, as she stared at the empathetic eyes of her sister’s image on the wall.
"I do not harbor a thirst for vengeance. Yet, you are worthy of a brighter destiny, my dear. As a scion of the illustrious Contarini lineage, I pledge to assume a maternal role, bestowing upon you the honor befitting my sister's legacy."
Calista did not respond, she ran as fast as she possibly could away from the palace and back to her grandmother. When she was running in tears, she met eyes with a fresh looking Piedro waiting for her full of hope. But she kept running despite her giving him a promise.
“NONNA! NONNA!” she yelled as she cried until her eyes bawled out.
“My dear child! What has happened to you?!”
“Do not! I said! Do not try to console me! I TRUS-TED YOU! I loved you Nonna, I loved you like I would’ve loved my mother! BUT YOU LIED TO ME! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU LIED TO ME!”
“No I didn't, my dear! When did I?”
***TO BE CONTINUED ***
© Neha Hettiarachchi
Calista lives with her grandmother; Angelina Marcellioli. An endearing woman who has great courage and did everything in her reach to raise Calista like a strong and brave woman. Nonna (grandmother) Angelina was in good shape and form from both her life and outer appearance despite her age.
Calista and her grandmother run a business that earlier used to be what her mother; a great artist had helped with too. Calista was born with a gifted talent to draw and bring emotions to life in the form of painting. Calista and her nonna took great pride in all their artworks which were sold to many from even the royal and noble families such as the Contarini and Pisani families.
Calista’s father Buonne; a strong believer of catholicism and an Italian with strong and rather racist ideas and viewpoints of not only other nations but of the same red blooded Italians in other regions of Italy such as Florence, Sicily and Rome as well, carried great prejudice wherever he went and was trying his utmost best to force those ideologies to his daughter who had a much purer heart to his disappointment. He had laid numerous rather pointless rules in the house whenever he was around. A few of them were that; no one was allowed to speak English or any other language except Italian during his presence, no one was allowed to read or learn new things or explore culture at home except himself, reflecting his idea of how women were to be at home and men were to do the hard work which without his knowing were things both Calista and Nonna Angelina; his mother, disagreed with.
As for Calista’s mother, not much was known besides the fact that she was a great artist and had ended her life two weeks after Calista’s birth in the wake of her turning to a psychotic person due to some unknown reason her father had never mentioned and wished never to do.
Perfezione.
Chapter 01.
A Brand New Chapter.
Mr. Buonne was headed off for a business trip to the Strozzi Bank in Florence for commercial trade, leaving Calista and her grandmother alone in their little house.
“Calista, vado a Firenze e voglio che tu ti prenda cura di tua nonna. Vendi i tuoi disegni e non fare nulla che sai non mi renderebbe felice. Inteso?” He asked Calista in a rather stern voice.
“Si(yes) , papa,” said Calista in a pale and innocent voice as her father kissed her warm chin with his cold lips and left in his carriage along with a few of his good colleagues.
She skipped her way to the kitchen through the narrow and short corridor with plants on either side to see her grandmother chopping some carrots.
“Now aren’t you one happy girl?” Nonna Angelina jokingly questioned seeing Calista with a bright smile on her face as she chuckled.
“Aren’t I always?” said Calista. “But I am extra happy today! You and I can finally draw in peace without papa!”
“Now, Calista, as much as you hate him, he still is your father after all. So, show some respect, will you?” said nonna with a slightly stern voice mixed with a playful tone. “So, what’d he say as he left?”
“He told me that he’s going to Florence and wanted me to take care of you, sell drawings and not do anything mischievous,” said Calista quite playfully. “Let me help you there,”
She joined her grandmother and cooked a warm Minestra, with boiled vegetables, barley, and rice in the vegetable boiled water used as the broth. They sliced some bread with cheese and roasted rabbit meat from earlier that day. She served it all on the table as she reluctantly poured a glass of Malvasia wine which had a great aroma for her grandmother who was addicted to it.
They both sat down at the table and started eating.
“I still don’t understand why Papa thinks that Venice is the best. Fighting over who has the better wine, the better art, the better everything; it’s just so ridiculous and childish,” said Calista as she helped herself to a whole chunk of rabbit meat.
“Well, I guess, your father doesn’t even have the understanding of an 18 year old,” said nonna.
“You know, nonna,” said Calista as she chucked a piece of the parmigiano-reggiano in her mouth and gazed at the sky through the broken part of their roof. “‘By God, if women hadde written stories, as clerkes han withinne hire oratories, they wolde han written of men moore wikkednesse, than all the mark of Adam may redresse.’ that was part from ‘The Wife of Bath’s Prologue’, by Geoffrey Chaucer. I read it after I found it in the attic. It’s a very interesting passage. It says that if women had the chance to tell their own stories and perspectives, they might highlight the shortcomings and faults of men, just as men's stories often portray women negatively. I realize that it’s all about perspective nonna. Right now, we may be nice people and heroes. But in somebody else’s story we are always the villain. It’s people like papa, that make the world an unpleasant place to live in, because they blindly judge and compete while criticizing people without knowing what they are going through. Not everything is a competition. It’s cruel and mean,”
Nonna had finished drinking the entire glass of wine as Calista ended her story and was too drunk to stay up and help her clean the dishes.
Calista put nonna to bed and cleaned the house as she walked out of it and through the silent night to her favorite place in all of Venice. Riva Degli Schiavoni. The beautiful blue river was as calm as ever with the peaceful moon shining down upon it.
Calista jumped onto one of the gondolas as she stared at the sky and the water, feeling a sense of safety and love she had never felt from her father. The moon felt like what she had imagined would feel like to have a mother who loved you ever so much. If that was what it really felt like, she would do anything in the skip of a heart beat to get her mother back.
“The busy lark, the messenger of day, Saluteth in her song the morrow gray; And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright, That all the orient laugheth at the sight, And with his streamés drieth in the greves, The silver droppés hanging on the leaves.” Calista murmured to herself a part from a book she adored by Geoffrey Chaucer as she admired every bit of the beautiful river when she could.
Chapter 02.
An Idea.
The next morning, drunk Nonna woke up to the smell of cheese stuffed pasta, frittata, the gritty pottage and a sallet with tomatoes Calista had grown on her own a few weeks back.
She made her way to the kitchen despite feeling extremely dizzy as she had had an unhealthy amount of wine for a 75 year old the previous night.
“Morning, nonna!” said Calista. “The pottage will be on the table in 4 minutes. I wanted to serve it hot,”
“Oh, alright, alright! Take your time,” said Nonna, nearly bumping her head on the wall in her pajamas.
They both sat for breakfast, as Calista served the food to her grandma.
“Grandma, last night an idea struck me, and I think we can make it work with some extra effort,”
“Now, what is this ‘brilliant’ idea of yours?”
“So, drawing is amazing! I love how we have the skill to bring emotions to life, you know; like making the impossible seem possible. But, what if we expanded a bit more from art?”
“I’m listening,” said Nonna rather eagerly.
“I want to start cooking.”
There was a moment of silence at the table.
“All our families have been artists, Calista, nobody dared to ever move away, or expand or try something new. We were artists then, we are artists now. But you know I’ve loved you the same way your mother would’ve loved you, dearie. I was with you when you were a toddler, and so with you shall I be for as long as I live. You can do it if you want to, I will help you,” said Nonna.
If the blue moon she saw last night could talk, its voice would’ve sounded exactly like her Nonna’s was the only thought going on in Calista’s head, as she rose from her chair with her love having been increased than from the time she sat down on that same chair a few moments ago. She walked to her nonna and said, “Ti voglio bene nonna,” (I love you, grandma)
Calista spent all day thinking for new recipes, and cuisines as she roamed around San Marco, pondering as she rowed her gondola to the other side of the bridges at Riva Degli Schiavoni, admiring the architectures of Basilica di San Marco, crossing the Ponte di Rialto near the Grand Canal, walking through the Church of San Moise as she listened to the angelic singing of the choir and enjoying every moment of walking by Scuola Grande di San Marco.
She returned home with a piece of paper wetted with large letters written in thick black ink, late in the evening.
They had some pottage and bread for dinner that night.
“So, what’d you come up with, dearie?”
“I gave it a mix of traditional culture and modern food. I’ll start making them early tomorrow,”
Dawn broke and Calista was ready for an enthusiastic day. She headed to the kitchen and realized that the weather was rather cold and misty.
She made her family’s traditional pasta dough and cut it into the classic rectangular shape, and boiled it in warm water for a while as she chopped and prepared a few vegetables such as carrots, leeks, bell peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes and washed some fresh basil leaves after plucking them from her garden.
After the pasta was boiled; she tossed it around in a pot with some tomatoes, onions, garlic and added a few slices of roasted and seasoned lamb meat while she boiled the rest of the vegetables. In another pot Calista added the boiled vegetables and mashed them a bit, creating a mushy and soft texture as she poured some milk in and sprinkled it with lots of spices. She added this gritty mixture, which looked like soup, into the pasta dish and finished it with some mozzarella, parmigiano-reggiano and the fresh basil leaves on top. She poured a bit into a bowl and left the rest in the pot.
“Nonna! Can you please try this for me?” she asked
Nonna drank a spoonful of it and was mesmerized. With her eyes widened with amazement.
“Questa è la perfezione! (this is perfection)” gasped Nonna. “You know, dearie-, your mother was never really a ‘good’ cook, neither was your fathe-, but-, but, this is just perfect! It hits the spot and it is perfect on a gloomy and cold day like today! What are you going to call it?”
Calista thought for a while still with a bright smile on.
“How about Perfezione? Because that was the first word you said when you tried it,”
“Bravo, Calista! It’s wonderful! You should sell it for at least 1.5 euros!”
“Oh no, nonna! That’s too expensive! Maybe 1 euro,”
“It’s worth more than that!” argued nonna but finally had to agree with Calista.
Calista arrived at Mercato di Rialto, one of the busiest streets in Italy. She was taken-aback by seeing a little boy shivering in the corner of the road with very little clothing and an apple which seemed to be stolen in his hand. Calista poured some of her Perfezione into a bowl and grabbed a slice of buttered bread. She walked towards the child and gave him an ensuring and kind smile, as she lent the bowl and bread to him without the utterance of a single word and left back to her stall. The boy waited for her to leave and gulped it all up in a single bite leaving no trace of food. Many of the poor people carrying large bulks of grains and other ingredients to the noble families, stopped by just to get the warmth of the pot and then loved the Perfezione.
Night fell and Calista was packing her things to go home, she had earned around 11 euros that day.
Then she saw an empty bowl on the table she used with three beautiful pink flowers and a stone which had the letters ‘G-R-A-Z-I-E’ carved on it. She felt a sense of warmth and relief that she had filled the stomach of a starving child that day.
Chapter 03.
Contarini.
Word spread about the Perfezione and eventually even the noble families of Contarini and Pisani had heard about the famous Perfezione. Inside the noble houses of the Contarini family, was the baby who resulted in making the queen severely worried; by refusing to eat or drink anything even though he was already 1 year old.
One day the nanny of the baby was to take care of him as his mother had fallen into deep sleep due to a bad headache. The nanny tried several times to try and feed the baby anything at all but found herself seated on the chair near the baby after several hours, feeling defeated. She was extremely exhausted and decided to eat the Perfezione she had bought on her way to the palace and was relieved by the fact that it was still warm and delicious. She had a few spoonfuls and realized that the baby had stopped crying and was drooling as he stared directly at her Perfezione. The nanny decided to give one last try and took a small amount of it and fed it to the baby. Surprisingly, the baby gulped it down and gave a lively giggle that echoed through the royal halls. The nanny controlled her emotions and kept her excitement compressed as she slowly gave the baby another spoon, and another, and another until the baby had eaten the entire Perfezione! The nanny couldn’t keep her excitement in anymore and started dancing up and down and clapping her hands and carrying the baby in her arms as the other maidens ran to the room with Beatrice Contarini with anxious faces.
“My baby! What happened to him?” questioned Beatrice as she took the baby out of the nanny’s hands and cuddled him tightly.
“My highness, he finally ate a full meal!” the nanny said with sheer joy and excitement.
“I refuse to believe!” said Beatrice with pure disbelief.
The nanny explained it all to Beatrice until she finally was convinced and over the moon.
“Who is this noble man who has fulfilled my only wish, to keep my baby healthy and happy? We must reward him,”
“My highness, it is not a man but rather a woman aged 18 or 19,”
“Whoever it is, must be rewarded. Bring her to the palace the first thing tomorrow morning! That is an order,”
A new day begins and Calista is greeted once again by the now healthy looking little boy whom she had once seen without a single piece of flesh in his body. He gives Calista five pretty flowers and enjoys the taste of the Perfezione.
“Oh dearie, do you have a name, I haven’t known of?”asked Calista and the poor boy blindly stared at her with confusion. “Oh, oh, right! Silly me! Hai un nome?”
“No, Signora (no, ma’am),” said the little boy.
“Va bene se ti do un nome? (Is it okay if I give you a name?)”
“Nessun problema, signora (no problem, ma’am)”
“How about… hmm… ah! Piedro! Ti piace il nome Piedro?”
“Lo ADORO! (I love it),” said little Piedro.
“Bene, Piedro, ti ho portato dei bellissimi vestiti che mia nonna ha cucito per te. Puoi lavarti nel lago e io te li presterò, poi potrai goderti un'altra tazza della mia Perfezione! (Well, Piedro, I brought you some beautiful clothes that my grandmother sewed for you. You can wash yourself in the lake and I will lend them to you, then you can enjoy another cup of my Perfection!)” said Calista and Piedro rushed to the lake happier than ever before she could even finish her sentence.
Calista felt really happy and was arranging the cups and trays for the day as four guards from the noble family made their way arrogantly through the crowd, frightening Calista as they stopped at her stall.
“Beatrice Contarini, wishes to see you today and she wants you to bring your ‘Perfezione’ and its recipe,” they said.
Calista had been lectured and taught over and over by her father to never question the noble family’s decisions and just do as they say. Although she did not wish to keep her head down to people with the same blood, she was just too astounded and afraid to speak. She was led to the noble house of the Contarini's with the four guards as she heard the hustle among people gossiping and wondering what had happened.
The house was what Calista would describe as a palace, with walls made with white marble stones, and well-maintained gardens with trees shaped like kings and other royal figures mostly from the Contarini family, along with water fountains, and flowers arranged exactly in the order of the rainbow, and doors made with fine wood and real gold and silver for every handle. Although it was true royalty, something about it was very isolated and abandoned, everything was disgustingly systematic. From the buildings and trees to the children who were ‘happy’; figures and emotions were both forced the same way how Calista looked ‘happy’ during her father’s presence although only those who truly knew her like her nonna knew what real happiness looked like on Calista’s face.
She was taken to the room of Beatrice who was rocking her baby’s cradle.
Beatrice stood up as Calista bowed at her.
She signed the guards to leave.
"Pray tell, your origins, your lineage, and the path that led thee hence, for such knowledge weighs heavy in my consideration. Yet, in this moment, my cherished offspring claims precedence, and thus must I temper my sentiments. I beseech thee, bestow upon me a portion of thy Perfezione, dear one, for my palate awaits the taste of thy culinary excellence." she said.
With even her greatest efforts, understanding Beatrice was impossible. Therefore the maid helped her to understand what she meant and asked her to lend a serving of the Perfezione which was what she did with no hesitation.
"Beholding my progeny partake of sustenance is the singular desire that has consumed my very being, for I languished in dire distress pondering the dire fate should nourishment elude him. Thus, unto thee, I extend the full measure of my gratitude, for thou art deserving of such acknowledgment." said Beatrice and with much difficulty Calista understood her words.
"Pray tell, noble offspring, by what name art thou known?"
“My-m-name is Calista, my lord,” she said as she stuttered.
"Ah, doth thou possess solely the appellation Calista, devoid of any accompanying second or first name?"
“Oh, no, no, my highness. My name is Serafina Calista Marcellioli,”
The smile on Beatrice’s face was wiped off and had turned into extreme horror. She was visibly confused and astounded. There was silence filling the whole room with only the baby’s giggling as the maidens fed the Perfezione to him.
“And your- your father must be… Buonne di Marcellioli,” said Beatrice forgetting all royalty.
“Yes, my lady,” said Calista."Your Majesty, might I inquire if my father, an esteemed merchant in question, has had the honor of conducting any business within the auspices of your realm?"
With no response in the silent air, Beatrice stood from her chair.
"I humbly request a private audience with you at your earliest convenience." said Beatrice and led her through a hallway that kept getting narrower every step they took and came to an end where it felt no longer as if you were in a royal palace but a poor peasant’s house.
She opened the doors to a hall filled with dust and webs with no sense of human touch for more than a decade. There were large red curtains on certain walls and nothing more or less than blown out candles and dried flowers in that long hall.
“Have you any knowledge of your mother?” she asked.
“That she was a great artist, and passed away from a psychological problem soon after my birth, yes, my lady.”
“LIES! LIES!” She yelled. The tone of one who has been betrayed.
“By whose lips were these tales spun?”
“My father told me so, my highness,” said Calista, extremely terrified as she started praying for her life.
“Such revelations from your father would not astonish me." she said with great rage and pain in her voice.
"Know this, the demise of your mother was not by natural means,” she said with great pain. “Her passing was a result of treachery. And the perpetrator, you may wonder? It is none other than the individual who deceives you presently with falsehoods, the very same culprit behind her demise."
“Your highness, I mean no disrespect, but I am confused,” said Calista praying louder than ever.
Beatrice walked to the center wall and pulled down the large red curtain to reveal the image of a woman with golden brown hair, blue eyes, a pink nose, wearing a royal dress in scarlet silk.
"Behold, this lady is your mother."
"It is revealed that your father and mother led a splendid life, reveling in joyous moments. Your mother, with her exquisite artistry, tended to her creations while nurturing you, and your father prospered in his commercial endeavors. However, shortly after your birth, your father sought to leverage your mother's ties to the esteemed Contarini family for financial gain in trade. Alas, this ambition clashed with your mother's principles, especially as her own father lay gravely ill. She valiantly resisted, believing it improper to pursue trade while her father's life ebbed away. Her steadfastness prolonged your grandfather's life, though tragically, after his passing, she met a similar fate. Only your nonna knew the truth, imploring us to silence. Though we honored her wish, it remains a decision I did not endorse. This revelation establishes your noble lineage."
“So, all I have ever known, all I was taught, all I believed was just a big fat lie. A lie of someone who wanted to get rid of guilt. A lie of someone who killed one who I would’ve daringly loved. A lie. A lie. A lie,” Calista started hallucinating and feeling dizzy as she contemplated all her life choices. “Even the sole individual in whom I placed unwavering trust concealed this deception from me. I have been naught but a pawn in his insidious machinations.”
Calista broke down in the middle of the hall as her tears echoed in the empty hallway. Tears fell down the cheeks of Beatrice as well, as she stared at the empathetic eyes of her sister’s image on the wall.
"I do not harbor a thirst for vengeance. Yet, you are worthy of a brighter destiny, my dear. As a scion of the illustrious Contarini lineage, I pledge to assume a maternal role, bestowing upon you the honor befitting my sister's legacy."
Calista did not respond, she ran as fast as she possibly could away from the palace and back to her grandmother. When she was running in tears, she met eyes with a fresh looking Piedro waiting for her full of hope. But she kept running despite her giving him a promise.
“NONNA! NONNA!” she yelled as she cried until her eyes bawled out.
“My dear child! What has happened to you?!”
“Do not! I said! Do not try to console me! I TRUS-TED YOU! I loved you Nonna, I loved you like I would’ve loved my mother! BUT YOU LIED TO ME! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU LIED TO ME!”
“No I didn't, my dear! When did I?”
***TO BE CONTINUED ***
© Neha Hettiarachchi
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