The Proposition

When two people make a decision to start something with conditions, how long do the conditions last? I have been in Sicily for exactly one week and have started seeing someone, x. I met him last December.

Our second night out, he set it all out straight for me — nothing serious. He is six years my junior, living in a small farm town with no intentions to move, and I live in Florence and will only be visiting for a month. That considered I gladly accepted his terms after setting down some of my own rules: He cannot see someone else and when we are together, in love or not, I need a lot of attention. Agreed.

Last night he asked me to go out. When I answered the phone, I did not hear a “Ciao.” No. I was greeted with an abrupt, shout of “Oh.” A lot of people in Sicily use this word or expression, I do not even know how to categorize it, to get attention, express dislike for something, and as I learned today to say “hello.”

I accepted his invite. “Yes, but I have to eat dinner first,” I said.

Of course he had to eat with his family also. Dinner is a big deal in Italy, but I think especially in Sicily. At the time he called, Nonna was preparing mine. I was at one of a hundred cousins’ home and they insisted that I stay and eat with them. Nonna would kill me if I ate somewhere else.

Every day she asks me what I want to eat, and tries her best to fulfill my order. If I bail, I know she would be disappointed. So I declined but stayed a bit to chit chat.

When x. called me, I really could not have a full discussion with him. My cousins were around and believe me they listened to my conversation.

The other conditions of the relationship, is no outright public affection. People in the town of Maniace talk. Besides smoking, playing cards and farming, there is nothing else to do except gossip.

They are already talking.

“She was with x. last night,” said for no reason my cousin’s 16-year-old “newlywed” wife to her mother-in-law. I say “newlywed” because they are not legally married, instead they ran off together and now the whole town considers them man and wife.

“Who?”

“Her.”

“Her? She was with x.? Which x.? “

“Yes. Her. She and x. were at the festival together last night.”

“ Oh x.”

They were discussing me as if I was not there. Then it was silent and they were all just staring at me. Yes x. and I hung out at the La Sagra, the pear and peach festival; however we were with about 10 other people.

x. was right. They will think we are fidanzate, boyfriend and girlfriend, if they see us kissing or holding hands. I hate this. One of the reason I love Italy is because it is a place for lovers. A piazza would be bare if there were not at least two couples necking. In Florence, most of my dates with D. consisted of eating pizza on the crowded church steps in Piazza Santo Spirito, followed by passionate kissing.

But this town is about 1,000 years behind in mentality and technology. x. was also thinking of my reputation when he vetoed public affection. Reputation has worth in a town of about 4,000 inhabitants, where the lines between men and women are thickly drawn. If I am not careful I could be labeled as promiscuous – just for going out alone with a guy.

At 10:30 p.m. I had finished my meal and I called him to ask when we will go out. He said he was running late and in the middle of eating. Midnight is when he would finish. Fine.

I waited, waited and waited . . . and am still waiting. He never called back. Do I say something? Is last minute plan breaking outside of the conditions we set? I am debating. Maybe our agreement had already expired.