Love in the Venetian province

Chapter 3

World War II, between dreams and memoriesMia was the name of the girl Marco fell in love with that summer.

It was now the end of August and she had just finished the fifth grade. That summer had been hot and sultry, but just lately a slight breeze had started blowing.

Mia lived right in front of the schoolyard, which was a big, gravel-covered court bound by huge elm trees. Only the side facing Via Roma was delimited – and still is today – by a tall fence and a big gate which always remained open, even when the school was closed.

Mia had watched the leaves of the trees rustling in the breeze, then crossed the road, went in the playground and rested against the fence, in the shade.

On that hot summer afternoon some boys who lived near the school had decided to meet in the playground to play “World War II”. In the gravel, they’d traced a big square with the tips of their shoes, then they’d divided it in two. The boys had then formed two teams of five players each.

The game consisted in hitting the opponents with a ball without leaving the team’s rectangle, while at the same time trying to avoid being hit. As the boys got struck they had to leave the rectangle, and the team that lost all its players lost the game.

It was simple, with just one additional rule: a player who had not yet been hit could ‘give his life’ to another member of his own team who had already been hit.

Mia, a brunette with flowing hair and brown eyes, was following the game closely. Marco’s team had already won both the first and the second match.

Marco was a tall, slim boy with fair, long, curly hair; he was good at the game, throwing the ball vigorously and hitting the opponents while dodging the ones thrown at him.

Right before the beginning of the third match one of the boys had to leave to go back home. Marco and the others wanted to continue playing, and it was then that they noticed Mia.

They asked her to join them but she wasn’t sure she wanted to; she didn’t know any of them. The wind blew her hair in her face and she tried to pull the stray locks behind her ears. Marco approached her, smiled, and took her by the hand.

- Come on, – he urged her, – you’ll be on my team!

His friendly tone and warm touch convinced her and she accepted.

- Ok, now there’s five of us again. – he declared loudly, – Let’s play!

Both teams threw themselves enthusiastically into the third match. Marco and Mia were like two ferrets, fast and impossible to strike. Toward the end they were the only ones left on their team, until Marco lost his concentration and was hit. Now Mia was alone and thanks to her agility she still managed to avoid all the balls thrown at her, but in return her shots were weak, giving the opponents all the time they needed to get out of reach. It wasn’t long until she realized that she would get tired soon and become an easy target.

So, when it was her turn to throw the ball, she stopped and yelled:

- I’m going to exchange my life with Marco. - so loudly that all boys stared at her.

Marco reentered the game as concentrated and determined as if his life depended upon the result of the match. He hit his three remaining opponents, one by one, until the other kids on his team cheered:

- We won! We won!

Marco and Mia hugged. This unexpected gesture caught the others by surprise, and they stared for a moment, before their enthusiasm won over and they joined the two.

There were many more matches that summer. Some were won, others were lost, but Marco and Mia were inseparable, always on the same team. By now Marco’s thoughts no longer revolved around the game, but around that little brown-haired girl, with her sweet smile and soft voice. When school started again – the eighth grade for Marco and the sixth for Mia – their whole world quickly changed. They weren’t just two kids playing in the long, hot summer days anymore. He usually got out of school an hour later than her, but when he did, Mia would be there, waiting for him, leaning against the fence almost entirely covered by the jasmine hedge. Marco didn’t need to see her entire figure to recognize her, just spotting her eyes was enough. Marco’s and Mia’s fingers brushed and their conversation was simple:

- How was your French lesson? Did you study Math?

Wednesday was the only day Mia got out of school after Marco. On those days Marco rode his mom’s Graziella bicycle to school, to wait for Mia and take her home while she stood on the back rack, holding Marco’s shoulders for balance.

Marco never kissed her, not even on the cheek: he had no clue about boys kissing girls.

In the following months things got worse for them. Every time Marco stopped at the fence to say hello to Mia his schoolmates teased him, and the same happened to her every time she waited for him. Mia was the first to give in to the embarrassment and soon she asked Marco not to wait for her anymore. Gradually, they saw each other less and less often until, finally, they stopped altogether.

Also, Marco now had to concentrate on school since he had neglected it during those first months when his thoughts had all been devoted to Mia. He’d spent hours and hours writing poems and short stories hoping one day to read them to her, but his shyness had always been too strong to overcome.

But then, spurred by his teachers and parents, who expected better results from him, he made an effort to focus more. He successfully passed the eight-grade exams, so his parents enrolled him in the Gymnasium in Conegliano.

When Mia, too, started high school, they would sometimes meet on the bus for Conegliano. Their encounters, though, never went beyond the exchange of a greeting and a smile, despite the tiny trace of regret that appeared in Marco’s eyes.

It wasn’t until years later that Marco realized Mia had been his first true love, a love that he had unfortunately been unable to nurture.

For years Mia had been the only girl in his heart, but now he was married and with twin daughters who were approaching their graduation. And now he was lying on a bed next to a woman he’d met only a few hours ago. He moved closer to her and at last he fell asleep.

Anna opened her eyes. The house was still dark. She could feel Marco’s even breathing on her neck and hair, and his warmth on her back and left breast, where he’d rested his hand as he’d fallen asleep.

Anna wasn’t used to being held while she slept and she liked it. She put her hand on Marco’s and her face brightened as she thought about how lucky Marco’s wife was. Sergio, instead, rarely hugged Anna, even after making love: it was Anna who sometimes rested her head on his chest.

Now, surrounded by Marco’s arms, she closed her eyes and fell asleep again.