The Keystone at Chiusi

FICTION

A place of understanding

The idea was to get away with my wife, Lisa, from the dutiful monotony of home and work, and from the lies we told ourselves. It’ll be okay. The grief will pass. It’s all for the best. He’s in a better place. They had become less comforting and more like small tortures. Picking at scabs.

Signor Gennaro was our host at the tiny rental villa in Tuscany, just at the border with Umbria, called Villetta La Boncia. He was also our tour guide for the nearby historical sites, mainly in the ancient village of Chiusi Città which sits atop the adjacent hill. The old Italian gentleman was stern and formal, always wore a suit and tie, and he spoke not one word of English.

Neither Lisa nor I had had the patience or inclination to learn the language before traveling to Italy. We just showed up and hoped to learn enough expressions to get by. That made doing the paperwork to check into the villa a challenge. Our host sat expressionless across the table in the tiny kitchen with his hands folded and pushed papers across to me, pointing his finger where I needed to sign. When I wrote down our address, Texas, he spoke for the first time. “Ah,” he said, “Joan Ween?” I faked my biggest, friendliest smile and nodded as he pointed his forefinger at me, thumb sticking straight up. With no hint of mirth, he pulled the make-believe trigger.

Even in late Spring, the Tuscan countryside was cool at night. Although our host had given us a quick tour of the villa, explaining where everything was and how to use it, we didn’t understand any of it. The only source of heat I could find was a small fireplace in the kitchen that looked as if it might be ornamental, part of the decor rather than a functioning appliance. Nevertheless, I found a couple of sticks of firewood and some old newsprint and did my best to get a fire started. The whole villa immediately filled with smoke.

“What the hell did you do?” Lisa demanded, emerging from the bedroom where she had been unpacking.

“I don’t know,” I said, looking around for something that might be a flue or something. “Sorry.”

“Our first damn night here and now every piece of clothing is going to smell like…

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