Passeggiata (complete 2016)

So much life dancing in the night. So many souls basking in starlight, and Goodwin felt a certain clinging past in the air as he looked up to the stars. He wondered if the stars had a music all their own, and what it would be like to drift out there, among such a symphony.

Mary Ann led the group, or perhaps it was Elsie who led them now, out along the quay towards the winding road that stretched out to the cape, out to the far horizon and the call of wild things in the night. Elsie scented her way with nose to the ground and as one they followed, following old roads to new, perhaps, because there was something new and alive in this evening. Elsie stopped from time to time, caught the scent of something interesting on a wayward breeze, then as suddenly, as if heeding distant calls from other lives, she led them further along the lane. She looked up at overhanging branches, stars now hiding behind their vast traceries. There was, the pup felt, something very unusual in this night air. Wild dancing spirits wove furies on these unseen breezes...

Goodwin felt the wildness, too; it was as if Walpurgisnacht filled the darkness around the group with Dionysian purpose -- and he looked at the pup, wondered if she could see it too.

These spirits were beyond her, yet she recognized them. She could feel them now, and they grew closer as her group walked along. Yes, it was purpose that drifted on these unseen, seaborne breezes. She could feel them now, as plainly as she could the sea ahead. She lifted her nose to another passing gust and blinked as memory drew close around her...

Margherita walked beside her mother, their estrangement passing into the deepest reaches of memory with each step they took away from their home; Tom Goodwin walked beside Margherita, looked at her from time to time when she asked a question, hoping she would look at him, speak to him in her own voice, but he listened to her mother's questions and answered them as best he could.

"Were you happy in Boston?"

"Did you enjoy medicine?"

"Why did you choose to leave?"

All these questions he had avoided asking himself for quite some time, yet now he answered them without hesitation: the where of her questions, the who and the how all came so easily -- yet none of the old woman's questions seemed to get to the point, the point Mary Ann had shown him earlier that afternoon.

"Perhaps it was foolish to think you needed to run."

Isn't that what she had said?

Indeed. Why had he run?

And did those reasons really matter anymore, now that those other worlds were so far away?

And he had held that world in abeyance ever since, so what was left -- exactly -- that held relevance in the rapidly morphing kaleidoscope of his life?

Perhaps it was just the woman's sense of propriety, but there was a boundary in this night, a sense of the finite defining the contours of their passage. He had seen how far she was prepared to go to get at his truth -- and, it seemed, no further.

But without truth, there is nothing. He heard that in her voice, too. Then...

"Tell me about your father..."

But they had come to a large tree, it's overhanging branches reaching out to the sea, and the road looked to make a hard turn to the left. But the way was wild and dark down that road.

Too dark?

The old woman looked at the tree and peered into the darkness, then pulled her shawl close -- like an unwelcome memory had crossed her path, and this was a boundary she was unprepared to cross this night.

"Toni, take me home now. I am growing tired."

Elsie looked at the old woman, and now she too saw angry shadows dancing on her sea-borne memories. She came close and circled nervously...

Toni came to her, knelt by her side: "Mama, come with me, sit down here, on the bench."

"No, Toni. I must go home now." Shadows gathering, waiting for her...somewhere out there, in the shadows beyond the rocks...

"Okay, Mama."

"Paulo, you stay with your sister, keep her company. Now go on, or you will never catch up to that dog!" She turned and her youngest son took her arm and walked with her back to the village.

Paulo shrugged. "She used to be able to go further, often all the way out to the point."

"She has aged so much, Paulo," Margherita said. "I felt frightened when I saw her. Frightened that time passes so quickly for her now."

Goodwin listened politely to this exchange -- in Italian, of course -- yet it was as if he could understand every word, and indeed, he could feel the contours of their feelings by the way their words ebbed and flowed. Remorse, regret, the passing of time, the coming of night -- these are the universals of life, and they sound, don't they, the same in any language?

"Has she been seen be a cardiologist?" Goodwin interrupted.

"What?" Paulo Morretti said, startled by his words.

"Has she seen a cardiologist, a heart specialist?"

"Not that I know of," Paulo said.

"What do you see, Doctor, that makes you ask this question?" Margherita asked. She was looking at him directly now, and he turned to look at her in kind.

"Her lips were turning blue, and her fingernails. And her ankles are swollen."

"But this is what it means to grow old," Paulo interjected.

"Shut up, Paulo. You were saying, Doctor Goodwin?"

"Well, it may well be congestive heart failure, right side, but it could be mitral stenosis. That could be fixed, easily. How's her memory?"

"Poor," Paulo said, though he was listening attentively now.

"Has she been tested for Alzheimers?"

"No, at least I don't think so."

"Had an ultrasound of her neck?"

"What is this, this ultrasound?" Paulo asked.

"Check the carotid arteries, in her neck. If there is blockage in these vessels, that could hurt her mental ability, and this, too, could be easily repaired."

"But she is more than eighty years old!" Paulo said.

"So?" His sister cut him off. "Would it be hard to get this information? These tests?"

"Oh, they are easy and inexpensive. One visit to a specialist ought to provide the answers."

"Could you go with us?" she asked. "To see this type of doctor?"

He looked at her, at the concern in her eyes, and he felt their relationship being redefined by his past, redefined in ways he neither liked, nor wanted. Yet he was aware that his past was growing increasingly more relevant with each and every step he took with this woman by his side.

'Because I am who I am, and what I am,' he said to himself, remembering the look in Mary Ann Doncaster's eyes earlier that afternoon.

'And there are things you will never understand,' he heard an unseen voice saying, 'because you've never had the eyes to do so!' He looked around at these unseen voices, unsettled by their insight.

"Let's continue walking, shall we?" Paulo said. "That dog will have dragged the Doncasters all the way to to the sea if we don't get along!"

Margherita still held Goodwin in her eyes, but she turned to walk, as if she too turned to the dancing spirits in the dark.

Goodwin turned too, but he held her eyes in his as they walked. "If you need me, of course I'll come with you."

To Paulo these words meant nothing, but to Margherita -- they simply shattered her world. She felt weakness overcoming her ability to speak, or even to walk. She was Gretchen to this Faust, lost to the wild magic of his night -- even as it unfolded around her and pulled her deeper.

"Thank you, Doctor." She looked ahead but the memory of the look in his eyes dominated her sight, left her unsteady as she walked. Paulo moved ahead as if without a care in the world, leaving his sister adrift in wandering eddies of hope and confusion.

"Do you live in town?" he asked her after they had walked another few minutes.

"Yes, not far from the piazzetta."

"What an amazing village. It's as though time has somehow stopped here."

"Ah, yes, it is now. But two months ago, you would not say so. Portofino was then full of the beautiful people, the very rich, and all through the summer. The town has become pretentious, the flow of money overwhelming. Too many people trying to impress one another, too many people trying to be anything but what they really are."

"Oh? What is that?"

"Pardon? Oh, just an expression. I don't know. Perhaps there are too many pretenders, all trying to impress one another. Too much money and so little understanding leads to worlds of illusion. The reality of our lives grows lost in endless charades, and money fuels the moment. That is my village in summer."

"I guess it's just a sign of the times. So few, with so much."

"I think this is not a very good time, no? For the many?"

Goodwin laughed. "I think that about sums it up. So, do you work in town as well?"

"Yes," then she bit her lip and laughed. "And I saw you go swimming this morning!"

"That figures. I'd be surprised if you hadn't."

"Actually, I saw you come in this morning. While I walked to work. Your boat is very nice, almost, I don't know -- is pretty the correct word? Can you call a boat pretty?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Anyway, I watched, then as you fell asleep. You looked very tired."

"I still am."

"Oh, excuse me. Do you want to return?"

"No, no, the air feels wonderful, like it's full of something, I don't know, something wild and special." He felt stupid, unable to understand what was happening to his thinking as they walked.

"So many stars out tonight. Ah, look!" she said, pointing to the eastern sky. "The Hunter."

"Oh yes, Orion, the hunter. This is his time to come back to the sky."

"Are you a hunter, Doctor Goodwin?"

He slowed, looked away for a moment. No, he wanted to say, I'm the prey, and I have been all my life. "Miss Morretti, I suspect, well, I've hunted Death all my life, tried to push Him away from people for as long as possible."

"But Death hunts you too, does he not?"

"He hunts of all, Miss..."

"You must call me Margherita. Please."

"Alright. I like the name, by the way. It's -- pretty."

"Ah, yes, I guess I deserve that! So, you hunt Death. Then there is something I don't understand. Why have you stopped? Why did you retire?"

"Oh, I think it's the other way around, really. Medicine quit me."

"Excuse me? What does this mean? How could something so vital grow so corrupt?"

He laughed again. "I don't know, but that's a very good question."

"And, there is a very good answer?" Her voice held him -- soothed him...

"When I figure that one out, I'll let you know."

It was her turn to laugh. "Yes. I will look forward to hearing this."

"Are you two going to catch up?" It was Paulo, already lost in the darkness ahead. They could hear Elsie barking in the distance, Mary Ann calling the dog's name. "That dog is almost out to the cape!"

"Go on ahead, Paulo," Margherita called out. "We'll be along."

Goodwin stopped, looked east across the bay toward Santa Margherita Ligure and Rapallo; the loom of their lights had settled over the distant hills as an amber mist. "My God, what a sight."

The waters seemed to breathe with magic now.

"Do you know, the worst part of living here is taking all this for granted. When the newness leaves, so too will it's hold on your heart."

"But don't you find some measure of that feeling once again, when you experience newness through the eyes of another?"

"Perhaps I have lived too long here. I traveled from here but one time, a long time ago, yet it was not a happy experience."

He watched the darkness fall over her, saw her recede from the present back into the pain she alluded to -- a pain that obviously still maintained a deep hold on her.

He started walking again, and she fell in beside him, though she walked a little further away now. He bent down and picked up a flat sock and tried to skip it across the water. He laughed when it plopped noisily into the blackness, but he watched as ripples slipped into the distance.

"I had a boyfriend, you see," she began, out of the blue. "A musician. My father liked him, but my mother said he was no good. We ran away. To Fiorenza, eh, Florence. That was the beginning of all my bad times."

"What happened?"

"Oh, it is not important now. Papa died, mother refused to see me for years. I came home, found work, and so has it been ever since."

"What happened to the boy?"

She looked away, walked along silently. Then: "Have you been to Florence, Dr Goodwin?"

"Yes, twice, but long ago. The first time with my father, the second...I was in college. I went with friends -- but I don't remember much beside the Duomo."

"Is it not a most beautiful city?"

"Yes, I would say so. I would love to go back someday, see what I missed."

"You should."

"What about you? Would you ever return?"

"No, not ever."

This boundary was clear; he felt no need to ask more.

"Mrs Doncaster thinks I should get a dog. To keep me company."

"I find it strange. Yes, strange in the correct word -- that someone would sail so far, and for so long, and to do so by one's self. Have you had one before?"

"I, well, yes. I had a Springer Spaniel, like Elsie. She died a year ago."

"Ah. That explains it."

"Explains...what, exactly?"

"You do not want to dishonor her memory, do you? Take another so soon?"

"I suppose, but I don't know how well a pup would do on a boat, on such a long crossing. I know of people who have taken cats on such trips, but dogs are another matter. I think it might be more than just a little cruel."

"Perhaps, then, you should find a woman?"

"Ah, well, perhaps, but I think a dog would be a lot less trouble!"

They laughed. Her cares, he saw, seemed to fall away when she laughed.

"You are right, and most wise! Yes, we are too much trouble to love."

"Oh, I don't know. It's a matter of finding the right person, don't you think?"

"Yes," she said. "No easy matter, to find that person." She looked away again, her head fell.

"And I guess you have to be open to love, when it comes." He found he could not look away from her, but he disliked staring and turned to face the sea again.

"Open, yes. And to follow. Follow with your heart." And then she turned to look at him.

There it is, Goodwin told himself, the meaning of this night. Would she listen, could he see, would they follow?

He heard panting and light paws running their way, and soon he could just make out Elsie running towards them through the darkness. She came up to them and circled them, then she sniffed his legs. He bent to rub her and felt she was soaking wet.

"My-oh-my, Elsie, but you've been swimming!"

"Oh, Lord!" Margherita exclaimed. "I hope the Doncaster's are not, how do you call it, skinny-dipping again!"

"You've got to be kidding me! Aren't they a little old for that kind of nonsense?"

"Old? Why do say that, Doctor Goodwin? Why would it be any less fun tonight than fifty years younger?" She was smiling, but she was serious too. They resumed walking, the trees had given way to rocks, and now the sea beyond was still. Soon they could hear people ahead, splashing and laughing in the water.

"Well, for one thing," Goodwin continued, "the water's too damn cold!"

"And if anyone should know, that would be you!" Another laugh, another smile.

"Oh, thanks so very much for reminding me once again!" he said while looking at her dark hair flowing in the breeze. He could feel himself getting lost in that hair, of wanting...

Elsie ran back through the rocks as they caught up to Paulo; and Goodwin saw the Doncasters had rolled up their pants and were wading in a large rockbound tidal pool. Then Elsie jumped back into the water -- and Mary Ann yelped when the wall of spray drenched her.

"So how is it?" Goodwin called out. "Cold enough for you?"

"Come on in!" Malcolm replied "Again!"

"No thanks, I'm trying to quit."

"Bah! Paulo? What about you?"

Elsie climbed out and jumped up on a rock, then shook herself off, drenching the Doncaster's once again.

"Good girl, Elsie," Goodwin said, "you go get 'em!"

"Eh, no thank you, Dr Doncaster," Paulo said. "Once today was enough. Perhaps tomorrow I will feel the need to make a fool of myself again."

"You are not a fool, Paulo." Margherita said as she took off her shoes and rolled up her pant's legs, then she walked from the path down to the little pool and walked in. "It is not so cold! Come, Paulo!"

Goodwin walked down to the water's edge and reached down to feel the temperature. "Bullshit!" he cried, just as Elsie sprung from the rock back into the water. A wall of spray rose and coated both Goodwin and Margherita; now everyone laughed and cheered, even Paulo, who had escaped most of this drenching.

Goodwin started to unbutton his shirt and Margherita stepped back, watched him cast it aside. He undid his belt and pulled his trousers off and threw those up on the rocks as well, then walked past the pond and up a low wall of rocks along the edge of the sea. The water in front of him was deep, he saw, and he dove into the water and came up floating on his back; he paddled around for a moment -- then looked up at everyone, looking at him...

...but Mary Ann Doncaster was buck-naked now, and she came out to the rock and dove in as well, then swam out to Goodwin.

"See what you've started!" she said. "My, it is a bit brisk, isn't it?"

"I think I'm going to wish I'd brought a towel," Goodwin said, then he turned at the sound of another large splash.

"Bravo, Paulo," Margherita shouted, and sure enough Paulo Morretti burst from beneath the waves and paddled over to Goodwin and Mary Ann. He said something quite unintelligible into the night, but Mary Ann laughed, replied to him in Italian and they both laughed.

Malcolm was next. Goodwin watched is the old man's pasty white body emerged from the pool, and laughed expectantly when Malcolm held his nose and hopped into the water like a small boy.

"Bravo!"

"Good show!"

"My God in Heaven!" Malcolm shouted when he burst to the surface. "I think my balls just scooted up somewhere around my nose! It's bloody cold in here, Mary Ann!" He too paddled out into deeper waters.

Everyone turned to Margherita.

"Well?" Paulo called out.

"Well, what?" she called back.

"You too must come in!" her brother replied.

"And you are crazier than you think!"

"Come!"

"NO!"

Elsie came to the edge and looked at the four of them treading water, then back at Margherita; she barked once then hopped off the rock into the water and swam out to Goodwin. His feet were firmly planted on a slippery rock, his head well above the water's surface, so he was able to hold Elsie when she came alongside. She looked at him and licked his face, and he looked into her eyes now madly in love with her.

"My God," he heard Malcolm say, "I do believe..."

Goodwin turned and watched as Margherita, her nude form a moon-silvered-glow, dove into the sea.

Everyone hooted and hollered and splashed about as she stroked out to the deep water, and Elsie added to the commotion by howling -- at the rising moon.

Goodwin looked at Margherita as she came close; her hair was sleek and shiny now, the water had pulled shiny strands into a black jet that fell straight down the middle of her back, and now little drops of water on her forehead caught the moonlight. Goodwin thought they looked like diamonds scattered in the night.

He heard a thrashing in the water behind him, and someone gasped.

"Quiet!" Malcolm said. "Everyone be quite still."

Goodwin turned, saw the fin slicing through the water, then another, and another.

Elsie barked. The fin turned towards the sound.

The fin arced lazily forward, then a dolphin's grinning face broke the surface and rose into the moonlight. The pod came forward and slipped among the humans, members breaking the surface from time to time just long enough to look at the amazed people before slipping back under the water. The first one, however, remained near Goodwin, indeed, this one seemed to be staring right into Goodwin's eyes. Elsie let slip a low growl, and yet the dolphin drifted even closer.