Chapter 22 Loretta
L ORETTA
After Alberto has a nap, with Loretta lying next to him awake, he goes to the window and comments that the rain has stopped, so they’re able to go for their afternoon walk. She doesn’t think Alberto should be heading out at all so soon after his heart attack, but he says he’s going with or without her, so she joins him to at least keep her eye on him. They leave the hotel arm in arm, walking at a slower pace than usual.
Even outside, there’s no escaping the smell of cigarettes on Alberto’s breath.
Last night, Loretta threw out his cigarette cartons, along with his lighters and ashtrays, but he’s obviously found a way. She suspects his supplier is that good-for-nothing Eduardo from the cafe around the corner, who Alberto visited this morning.
‘Are you tired?’ she asks as they stroll through the lanes, manoeuvring their way through the swarms of tourists and waving to the shop owners they know.
The smell of dough coming from a waterfront pizza cafe makes Loretta’s mouth water. ‘We can stop for a rest in here if you need to,’ she offers, seeing some empty tables inside.
But Alberto says he feels good and wants to keep walking.
They make their way to Piazza San Marco, past the tourists lining up outside the Doge’s Palace and more tourists posing in front of the Bridge of Sighs. The cool wind blows strands of Loretta’s hair into her eyes and she regrets not wearing a headscarf. Her exhaustion as they walk makes her grateful for the easy dinner preparations this evening. All they need to do is throw together the salad and grill the fish. Did Rocco choose today’s menu deliberately to ensure an easier day for her or is she giving her son too much credit?
The extra pair of hands from Sophie also made an enormous difference. That girl is a godsend – fast, neat, a quick learner, competent – all the traits Loretta appreciates.
Sophie has a lovely nature; she’s sunny and quick witted. She’s not a pushover either, and Loretta likes that. With her peaches and cream skin, long blonde waves and light green eyes, she’s very pretty too. And she dresses beautifully – her navy polka-dot dress today, bright red lipstick and fingernails, and pearl-drop earrings were as if she’d stepped out of a 1950s fashion shoot, not the dull copycat wardrobe of most women these days.
But Sophie’s hiding big secrets, that much is clear, with the way her eyes darted all over the kitchen when Loretta asked about her life. Rocco’s a sensitive soul, he’s fragile and vulnerable. Loretta’s worried for him. Despite how lovely Sophie appears to be and how helpful she is in the kitchen, Loretta wishes Sophie would board the next flight back to Melbourne where she belongs. There’s trouble brewing for her son with that girl, she can feel it in her bones.
As if reading her thoughts, Alberto says, ‘I like Sophie.’
‘So does your son.’
‘It’s the other way around. Have you seen how she blushes around him? Our boy’s a good catch.’
Immediately Loretta’s thoughts turn to Gabriella, Rocco’s ex-wife, who would certainly have laughed in Alberto’s face at the suggestion of Rocco being a good catch.
‘They like each other. It’s mutual.’
‘No, she’s not his type. Too fat.’
Loretta rolls her eyes. ‘He’s bewitched by her, I know my son. Now to see if anything develops before she leaves.’
‘Don’t meddle, Loretta, I know what you’re like.’
‘Rocco’s a grown man. Why would I meddle?’
Alberto sniffs and doesn’t reply.
They stop in front of Hotel Danieli, where a large sculpture has been erected on the stone pavers. The sculpture is made entirely of painted aluminium. The detail is minute, a feat considering how large it is, almost half as wide as the hotel itself. Lying face down, with pained expressions, are sculpted gondoliers wearing wide-brimmed hats and striped jumpers, waiters in white tailcoats, artists with paintbrushes and Venetian masks in their hands, and chefs holding ladles. The metallic people are piled on each other, as squashed together as the sardines in their paper wrapping from the market this morning. On top of the bodies of the Venetian workers is a stampede of aluminium tourists, with exaggerated smiles and their arms raised holding phones. At the front of the sculpture is a metallic tour guide, waving a small yellow flag high in the air for the masses to follow her. The tourists’ aluminium shoes dent the bodies and faces of the Venetians lying prone beneath them.
Alberto drops his arm, letting Loretta’s drop too. They stand together in silence, staring at the sculpture. All around them, real-life tourists take selfies with it.
‘Let’s go home,’ she says. ‘I don’t want you overexerting yourself.’
‘Okay.’ Alberto pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it.
She gives him an incredulous look, but he holds up his hand. ‘Don’t lecture me. What’s the point of living if I can’t enjoy life’s simple pleasures?’
She’s too fed up to argue so they walk back towards home in silence.
They pass Magdalena standing in the tank. The water reaches the tops of her thighs now. Each day the crowd around her gathers in size, morbidly looking on.
What’s the point of Magdalena self-flagellating this way? It will achieve nothing. For years the people of Venice have been screaming into a void. The world is a slave to fossil fuels, and nothing will change that. Every day the cruise ships still come, dumping thousands of gallons of waste into the canals, literally shitting on Venice. Loretta remembers the blue canals from her youth, when it wasn’t unusual to see swans gliding on the water. Even dolphins swam there. Nothing can survive in the toxic water now. The acqua alta, which used to be a once-every-few-years phenomenon when she was growing up, has struck six times since November.
She turns her back to Magdalena, who’s shivering with the dirty water swirling around her stained white dress. No tokenistic exhibition, none of this feel-bad art will change the fact that the world doesn’t care about the death of Venice. Nobody cares.
The disgusting smell of Alberto’s cigarette hangs in the air between them. She thinks of Flavia waiting for her at San Zaccaria.
I’m sinking, right along with this cursed city.