The Ocean in the Well

By Nino Famà and Damiano Pietropaolo

This is the story of a struggle between love for God and love of a woman. The reader is immersed in the whirlwind of passions, upheavals and feelings of guilt that overwhelm Stefano, the novel's protagonist. What happens when a dream becomes a nightmare? Stefano is put to the test in a series of events that toss him from the seminary to a great love story, from Italy to New York, from a humble job to the clutches of the American underworld. The emotional disturbance created in Stefano's mind pushes him to re-evaluate the meaning of things, of life itself. For him, these are times of profound and heartfelt reflections on human relationships, on one's existence, on the before and the after, on the self and on the other. He asks himself: “Am I the criminal lying in this cell, or the shy, generous and selfless boy from the seminary?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Guernica Editions
• Release date: May 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781771836418

Book preview

Embers

I

The exhaustion from the long flight had shaken his soul. But now, seeing the city in the distance, he felt a lump rising in his throat. He could finally admire the skyscrapers, those mirages that had always fuelled the imagination of an entire people. His generation had forgotten the sailing of ships crowded with peasants with bewildered eyes who, not so long ago, had landed on Ellis Island. The new generations were seduced by the images of the mythical skyscrapers, the glittering shops, the wide streets and the welcoming parks. There were no limits, everything was possible here, and even the most extravagant desire was attainable. He left the airport and moved the hands on his watch back six hours. A sea of cars stretched out before him as far as he could see. He took a few steps and then turned to the right. It was late afternoon. The sun was setting behind the skyscrapers. The horizon, as he had often seen pictured in postcards, was glowing with the yellow, orange and red colours of the sunset. He crossed the street and approached one of the many taxis parked in a row. Without saying a word he showed the driver a piece of paper with an address on it. The driver got out of the car, took care of the suitcase and motioned Stefano to sit in the back seat.

The taxi pulled out of the parking lot at full speed and slid onto the highway, while Stefano looked out of the window at the approaching city tinged by the waning colours of the twilight. From time to time the taxi driver glanced in the rear-view mirror at the passenger, who, with his eyes glued to the glass, tried to reconcile what he was looking at with the images of the city stored in his head. As the taxi approached the centre of the city, everywhere Stefano looked, he could see masses of people, and skyscrapers. Rivers of cars flooded the streets while crowds of people running in all directions piled up in front of a traffic light and rushed to the other side as the light turned green. Stefano let himself be charmed by this first encounter with the city. He could hardly believe his own eyes; he was in the centre of the metropolis that had nourished the dreams of an entire generation.

The taxi stopped in a street flanked by old terraced houses on both sides. Looking out from the car window Stefano could see that the house number in front of which the taxi had stopped matched the one he had written in that piece of paper. At first glance the house, with its façade of orange bricks and small front porch leading to the entrance, seemed shabby and dilapidated. He got out of the car, put his hand in his pocket, took out a fifty-dollar bill and gave it to the driver. He took it and gave him the change, after which Stefano went to knock on the door. The woman who opened the door was of medium height and robust build, but with a rather neglected appearance. He showed her another piece of paper on which his name and other necessary information were written. The woman forced a half smile and, with her right hand, motioned for him to enter. A long corridor led to the rooms on the ground floor, while a wooden staircase led to the upper floor, where additional guestrooms could be found. Stefano followed the woman along the corridor on a carpet whose original colour was no longer discernible. Then she took him upstairs, to the room that had been assigned to him. The young man entered and thanked the woman. "De nada," she replied as Stefano closed the door.

Despite the fatigue of the journey and the change of time zones, he could not fall asleep. Lying on his back on the bed, locked in that room, from time to time a memory lit up his mind and, where there was darkness, a face now appeared. In fact, many worries prevented him from falling asleep. Confused images gathered in his head as he meditated on what had been his life. He remained sleepless until dawn.

When the sun’s rays beamed through the window, Stefano looked around. His room was small, with barely enough space for the bed, a tiny round table and a chair. The shared bathroom was located at the end of the corridor. He looked out the window. The roar of engines and car horns shook his nerves. Despite his determination to always look to the future, his head was crowded with people that had remained on the other side of the ocean. He thought of Milena, whose love and affection he pined for with a painful urgency.

On his way down to the basement for breakfast he listened with some apprehension to the clamour spilling out from the room, but he marched on with a firm step. It was a semi-dark place where, in addition to the small room set up with tables, there was a small kitchen, a nook that served as a laundry room and, at the back, another room where the woman lived. Sometime later Stefano learned that Señora Conchita was not the owner of the house, but a Puerto Rican woman employed to do the cleaning, prepare meals and look after the guests. He entered into a place that was so crowded he had to wait for someone to leave before being seated. A small table became free in the dark corner of the room and he made a run for it. The clamour of loud voices and the steady rumbling of incomprehensible words created a bedlam in which the stagnant air reeked with the smells of bacon, fried eggs and sausages. The guests washed down the food with glasses of orange juice and gigantic cups of coffee; frequent burping sounds hovered over the steady din. Stefano asked for two orders of toast and a coffee. While he waited for his breakfast, he noticed that the men sitting at the tables were wearing ragged clothes, but they were in good humour. They joked among themselves and laughed out loud. They all wore a baseball cap, which they did not remove even in the unbearable heat of the basement. Stefano sat quietly at his table, while the men were leaving the room.

A young man with a long, scraggly black beard, who was passing by to collect the dirty dishes, stopped at his table and, when he learned that he was Italian, he pulled up a chair and sat beside him.

I too am Italian, the boy stammered. In his own mind Stefano had already christened him as Blackbeard. I was born here, but my parents came from Molise, he said. He expressed himself well in Italian, thanks to language courses he had taken at the university, which he left before graduation to join a group of friends who had embraced the hippy way of life. Now he helped the Puerto Rican lady with the daily running of the rooming house. He set and cleared the tables, washed the dishes and cleaned the floors in exchange for room and board and a token weekly stipend. Stefano, who had always believed that one of the reasons emigrants had left their homeland was to secure a better future for their children, found the situation of his compatriot ironic. Gino, this was Blackbeard’s actual name, said that one day, once he had saved enough money, he would like to visit the place where his parents were born; but, for now, that day seemed very far away. Stefano asked him about the city. The waiter explained that it consisted of five boroughs: the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island and Manhattan. Then he added that for foreigners Manhattan was New York. It is the navel of the world, the capital of modern Western civilization. In addition to the highly visible Puerto Rican community, many Italians, Asians, Blacks and Jews also lived here. There was no country or ethnic group that was not represented in the city. It was an authentic microcosm, the perfect example of the American melting pot. Stefano listened with keen interest although he had not seen the things Gino was talking about.

"More caffè? Another coffee?"

No thanks, Stefano replied, while he perused the grey walls of that basement.

Why did you come to New York?

Many consider it a kind of mecca of Western culture and believe that, at least once in a lifetime, it is obligatory to come here.

Stefano had wanted to disclose his past, to tell his story, to talk about the real reason behind his journey: his escape from his own country. Instead, he replied that he had come to experience life abroad. Now I have to find a job to provide for my livelihood, he said.

Gino got up. He had to finish clearing the tables, he said. If you need anything you can count on me, he added as he picked up the cup and the plate from the table. Stefano returned to his room, lay down on the bed, and again tried to sleep.

II

The decision had been agonizing. He was torn between his love for a woman and his devotion to God! Stefano had spent his youth in the seminary, although not in answer to a deep desire for a spiritual life or a vocational call. Family circumstances and social conditions had led him to choose the religious life; the sad story of his family, of those whose livelihood depended on the land, and for whom survival was a never-ending series of sacrifices. It was an escape from the life of the peasantry, a reaching out to a more comfortable life, according to family members. Stefano had thought about the obligations, needs and changes that this decision would entail. He had hesitated, but in the end he had accepted the family’s will.

Once inside, however, he had willingly conformed to the life of the seminary. He had immersed himself in the study of theology, Thomistic philosophy and in-depth readings of sacred books, for which he had felt a profound affinity of thought. In them the young man had also found a model of life suited to his character and temperament. He had spent the first few years in the most placid contentment. In his last year, when he believed he had totally identified with religious life and that he had definitively shut the doors to temptations, moments of doubt and feelings of being lost had taken him by surprise. Stefano had interpreted the doubts that tormented him as the incursions of the devil. Thus, whenever disturbing ideas began to swarm in his mind, he recited a prayer and went to bed to dispel those thoughts that were turning his life upside down. But as time went by his anxieties, unlike what he had hoped, had intensified.

What was happening to him? He felt a deep longing to talk to someone about that fateful Sunday in April, when he had gone to the midday mass in the church in his hometown. After the consecration of the Eucharist, just as Father Tindaro began serving communion, Stefano was getting ready to leave his pew.

It was at this precise moment, as he was about to leave the pew, that he was pierced by the captivating glance of the girl standing next to him. From that moment on his life would never be the same. After Mass, the young man had stayed in front of the church to greet some friends. The girl came out of the church with her mother and, as she went down the steps, turned and smiled at him. Stefano had looked at her, speechless, and then followed her with his eyes down the street, until she had turned left and vanished around the corner. Her name was Milena. Stefano had seen her grow up, like so many other children in the village. Now she had become a beautiful woman. She was of medium height, had shoulder-length brown hair, and, when she walked, swayed her body in such a way as to drive the town’s young men crazy.

That evening, when he returned to the seminary, he felt numb, as if he had been run over by a train. He lay on the bed with his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling, thinking to himself that life is a tortuous path on rough terrain, with the devil waiting in ambush around every corner. His soul was in turmoil and he felt an urgent need to pray out loud until his exhausted mind was overcome by a profound drowsiness.

The next morning he woke up sad, depressed by the bustling of worries that clung to his mind. He had spent the day in anguished torment, confounded, as he thought back to the words of Father Adelmo on the temptations that undermine our resolve: As if God puts us to the test to see if we are worthy to be the bearers of His word, to spread His voice.

Meanwhile, Stefano’s weekends at home were more and more frequent and with each new visit his feelings for the girl intensified. He was so infatuated that he could not expel the image of Milena from his mind. How is it possible, he thought, that a feeling so sincere, so natural, could break divine law? If Christ had become man, had he not done so to understand the needs and problems of man?

He had sought Father Adelmo’s counsel in the hope that he might help him resolve his dilemma. The reverend had always been open-minded in his singular human understanding of the relationship between spiritual life and human nature. He had recently celebrated his birthday, half a century of life on this earth. His hair was still thick, though totally grey. He was short in stature, with a prominent belly, a face as round as a full moon, and walked with a slightly arched posture that made him look older than he actually was. Father Adelmo had mastered the art of listening patiently to the problems of others and always offered good counsel, without ever embarrassing anyone.

Fearful, hesitant, Stefano entered the room. Father Adelmo was sitting at his desk. He got up, offered the young man a chair and moved another one next to the seminarian’s.

To what do I owe the honour of your surprise visit, to some bad dream? The teacher asked jokingly.

A real nightmare, the young man said, but unfortunately it’s not something that happened in a dream.

Father Adelmo straightened his back and, looking directly into Stefano’s eyes, he could see the anguish printed on the young man’s face.

I’m here to listen, son.

Stefano lowered his head, mortified. He could not look his superior in the eye: he was tongue-tied.

Son, do not be afraid, you know I will only try to help you.

Father, my mind is in chaos.

My son, in life, at one time or another, we will all have to cross treacherous forests and walk in dark paths, but we also know that they are temporary things, and that sooner or later the light of the Lord will shine again.

I hope so, Father.

What do you mean you hope? We who believe in God know that it is so.

You’re right, Father, but lately I don’t know what’s happening to me.

Explain yourself, tell me, do you have any doubts?

I met a girl who turned my life upside down.

Listen to me, son. These temptations are meant to stir up our resolve, our commitment, as if God put us to the test.

But for me everything has changed, Father. I am no longer the same as before.

Weaknesses of the flesh, but you will see that everything will pass.

My fear is that, in my soul, I don’t want it to pass.

Son, are you aware that your words are an affront to our faith, to God?

My deepest desire is to follow the path of faith, but without having to give up my love for that girl.

Are we or are we not rational beings? Let’s not get lost in meaningless arguments. We are well acquainted with the Gospel and the precepts and directives of the Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic Church. Think about it. Let a little time go by and you will see that everything will work out by itself.

I will follow your advice, but I do not believe that the solution can be easy when you have to choose between love of God and passion for a woman with whom you are in love.

Think it over, son. I will always be here for you, should you need me.