THE BIG FISH
by Joyce Rose-Rodgers
Gabriella hurried to the house and kicked off her sandy shoes before entering the kitchen. She had stayed too long in the garden, trying to coax life into the flowers clinging to the dry sandy soil. They were the only beauty in her life and she could not bear to let them die.
She pulled the rag from her head that held her hair in place and threw it on the back of the chair, then she began to gather up the few dishes to be washed before her husband got home. He would beat her if the house was in a mess. He would probably beat her anyway, he needed no reason at all. According to him, it was just what a man did to his wife to keep her in line.
She had heard this many times but it still made no sense to her. What line is it I am supposed to walk? Just let me know what it is I am doing wrong and I will not do it again, she thought. I hate these beatings. It is making an old woman of me. I fear I will die of old age before I am forty. Why did I ever come here? Why did I marry this awful man in this horrible place. She had asked herself this question a thousand times, but the answer would not come.
Gabriella was very young when she first came to the fishing village that was now her home in southern Italy. She came with her parents when she was sixteen or seventeen, she could no longer remember. Her parents were from Milan and had taken their two children to the coast of the Mediterranean for a combination holiday and business trip.
They had a small art shop in the city and often went into the country to find local artists who would sell their paintings and sculpture for a low price. These could not be sold for as much as the art of people with famous names, but they could buy it for less and the profit was much greater when it did sell.
Gabriella was young but she seemed a sophisticated woman to the young men of the village. She was tall and blond and had the good manners her parents had worked to hard to instill in both their children. They were intrigued by her slight build and blond hair. Most of the women in this part of Italy were solid and dark and not so innocent to the ways of men. They did not flirt or even consider a man as anything but a part of life. There were no illusions about romance or passion. You grew up, you got married and you had children. That was life!
But this girl had a different life. Her family was not wealthy but they made a good living and they were not broken down by the hardships of the people in this part of the country.
On one particularly beautiful day, Gabriella’s parents went on a side trip and she and her brother were left at the hotel with little to do but swim and bake in the hot summer sun. A group of local boys came toward them on the beach in search of old nets that often washed up on the shore and they stopped to talk for a few moments. Actually, they came to talk with Gabriella but made a good effort to include her older brother who watched them with suspicion and apprehension. He did not want anything to happen to his sister while she was in his care.
Gabriella was completely taken with the good looks of one boy in particular by the name of Victor. He was a head taller than the rest with a lighter complexion and beautiful white teeth. She later learned that his father had been an American student from Iowa who came to Italy to study for his theses on Italian culture. He said he preferred to learn the country first hand than to learn it from books. He stayed with a local family just long enough to get their youngest daughter pregnant. He went back home a month later, never knowing that he had fathered a child in this far away land.
The boys left after a few minutes. Victor hung back a little and watched Gabriela as she stood up, adjusted her bathing suit, and ran toward the waves of the great sea. He thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and vowed he would never rest until she was his wife.
Victor came to the beach every day for the remainder of their stay and completely charmed Gabriella and her whole family. They invited him to come to visit them if he ever had the opportunity. Victor thanked them and promised he would.
And one day he did. He showed up at their door and announced that he had taken a job in Milan. He was staying with relatives on the other side of town but his job was quite close to their home so he thought he would stop by and say hello, he explained.
"Why don’t you stay for supper," her mother asked, more out of courtesy than anything else. He did, and kept coming back almost every night until a month later, he proposed marriage. Her parents were apprehensive, but Gabriella seemed so happy and in love that they consented. After a proper church wedding and with the blessings of her family and his, they set up housekeeping in a small apartment near by. Soon afterwards, Victor quit his job in the city and brought his bride back to the town where he was born.
Gabriella tried to adjust and fit in but it was almost impossible. The women treated her well enough but they did not understand her. They thought of her as a foreigner and they were convinced she thought of herself as better than them. They resented the way she dressed and the fact that she liked to read books. If that wasn’t bad enough she even liked to write poetry and paint. These were trivial pastimes, they thought. For them, there was no time or energy left at the end of the day for such things. Soon Gabriella learned to hold her head down, more to avoid them than to imitate them. She covered her head with a kerchief when she went outdoors and began wearing the coarse dark dresses and heavy cotton stockings that were so common to the women of the town.
She hid the few books and magazines she had and did not let her husband know she was still writing. She had put her feelings and observations down on paper for as long as she could remember and could not bring herself to stop, especially now that she had no one to talk to about them. These things were the only link she had with her past other than an occasional letter from her family. Victor had no interest in leaving this town and would not hear of Gabriella going anywhere alone, so visits to her family were out of the question. Her family knew they were not welcome and it only made things harder for Gabriella so the letters were the only contact she had with them.
Gabriella heard the old wagon outside and the sound of Victor’s heavy boots coming up the steps as she put the last of the dishes on the table. She put three pieces of meat in a pan to go with the potatoes and tomatoes that would be their supper.
"Why isn’t supper on the table?" he asked her with a scowl. "Can’t a man ever eat on time. Have you no feelings for a hard working man, woman? If I wasn’t so tired, I’d show you who is in charge around here."
Gabriella’s body went rigid with fear but she knew, from experience, that she must act normal. To show fear, or any other emotion would be asking for trouble.
"I’m sorry," she said. "I didn’t want the food to be cold when you got here. It won’t be long. Let me have your boots."
Victor held out one foot, then the other, allowing Gabriella to remove his boots which she placed on the patio under the roof.
"Was the fishing good today?" she asked.
"The fishing was good, but that bastard at the market cut the price by ten percent. We got less today than we did yesterday and we brought in more fish. Here, put this in the money box. There’s a thousand lire there. That should be enough to get what we need, eh? Give me the change back tomorrow. Don’t forget."
Gabriella took the crumpled bills and the coins. She hoped that he had given her more than he thought, as he sometimes did, or that she could manage with less so that she could save the rest in the baking powder can she kept hidden behind the stove. She thought of it as her get away money. She didn’t know how or when but she knew she must someday leave this place before it, or he, killed her.
Gabriella managed to get through supper and the evening chores without incurring her husbands wrath. When they went to bed, he had his way with her but she had long ago learned to feel nothing. It was as if it was happening to someone else in another room.
Victor had been romantic and a passionate lover when they were first married. He was truly in love with Gabriella but, in time, he succumbed to the ways of the other men who told him if a man loves a woman too much, she will make him weak and soon her will would win over his. There was pleasure, for him, in knowing she must give in to him. And the more she resisted, the more he enjoyed the act and so she learned to be still until he was finished.
They had no children and he berated her for it. He blamed her when the other men in the village chided him for not being man enough to make a baby. "It’s her," he would protest. "She is as hollow as an old barrel. She has the soul of a fish and the mind of a slug! God would not send a baby to such a woman." Then he would come home and beat her because of the ridicule he had to take from the men whose words meant more to him than anything she might say.
The sea was a dangerous place and all the women of the village were held together by that common bond. They talked about the men who were lost at sea and wondered which of them would lose a husband, brother, or son next. Some of them feared it would happen and some wished it would. It was impossible to tell, when a woman stood staring at the sea, whether she was praying for her man or putting a curse on the boat that carried him.
When they woke up the next morning, heavy clouds and the sound of thunder in the distance put Gabriella’s nerves on edge. She hated the days when he could not go out to sea. He would come home drunk and beat her for no reason at all and then he would degrade her in bed. The smell of wine and salt air would almost gag her.
"Perhaps you should not try to go out today," she told him. "It looks too dangerous."
"We’ll see," he said, eyeing her sideways. "What do you care. You would like it if I were washed out to sea. You would bless the wave that swallowed me and raise a monument to the fish who ate my flesh."
"No, Victor," she said. "Don’t talk like that. I don’t wish you dead." "Yes you do. Then you could go back to your precious family and have them make a big fuss over you. You would tell them what a terrible life you had and what a terrible husband I was. You would go to the theater and drink wine in the café and go to bed with some fine gentleman with smooth hands and soft lips. Don’t try to fool me, woman. Nothing would make you happier than to get away from here."
"Victor, please. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t ask you not to go," she told him.
After Victor left, Gabriella did her chores, then went to the shore to see if the boat was still in the harbor. It was gone and she breathed a sigh as she trudged back up the hill to get a few things before heading back home. She could see the storm clouds coming and hurried in order to get back home before it got to shore.
Her first stop was the at the post office where she checked the mail. She was glad that Mrs. Minchetti, who took care of the combination post office and grocery store, was sympathetic to her. Gabriella wasn’t sure why but the old woman never told Victor she was receiving mail from her parents and from her brother who was now attending the university in Milan.
There was no mail from home, but there was a new issue of a magazine her brother had subscribed for her. She hurried through the market, picking up everything she thought she would need and then put the house in order so that she would have time to read the magazine. She was intrigued with the cover picture of a local poet. She was anxious to get to know him from the sleek shinny pages of the magazine. She looked up at the clouds forming over head and hurried all the more so she could get home before the rain began.
After she had put the few groceries away, Gabriella poured coffee into a mug and cut a slice of bread and another of cheese which would serve as her lunch. She settled herself at the kitchen table and was soon lost in the interview with the poet. It gave her a chill to learn that he would be doing a reading of his poetry at a hall in the next town. She wondered if she dare slip away while the men were out to sea. She decided there would be no way for her to get back in time and even if she did, Victor would surely know. She was not very skilled at deception and he seemed to be able to read her thoughts. She would have to be content with reading the poems herself. There were a few at the end of the article.
Gabriella jumped from her chair when she heard a thump on the back steps. She tried to stuff the magazine into the silverware drawer, but it was too late. Victor was glaring at her with a glazed expression on his face. He was weaving on his feet and the smell of old wine and fish reeked from his body.
What do you have there, girl?" he bellowed.
Nothing… it’s… it’s just a magazine," Gabriella said as she clutched it to her chest.
Give it to me! Give it to me, I say!" he bellowed.
Victor staggered toward Gabriella. He snatched the magazine from her with one hand and backhanded her with the other.
Victor, please," Gabriella begged. "I get so lonesome when you are gone. I just need something to occupy my time. I don’t mean any harm."
Victor tore the magazine in half with his enormous hands and Gabriella cried, "Don’t! Please, Victor, don’t!"
Victor grabbed a knife from the table and started toward Gabriella cursing her. "One day, I will kill you," he vowed. Gabriella backed up as far as she could. When she could go no further, Victor grabbed her by the hair and pressed the knife to her throat. He threw her to the floor, and in his drunken state, he lost his balance and came tumbling down on top of her still clutching the knife in his hand. She could feel his coarse beard on her face and then he drooled a little and passed out. With a gasp of relief, she pushed him off her and sat on the floor wondering what she should do next. From the way he was breathing, Gabriella knew he would be out for a while.
She scrambled to her feet and went to the stove to get the baking powder can. The then picked up the two halves of the magazine from the floor and made her way up to the bedroom and quickly closed the door behind her. She put the magazine on the bed, dumped the contents of the can on the old quilt and began counting the money. There was not nearly enough to go anywhere and Gabriella looked frantically around the room. Her eyes came to rest on a picture of the Virgin Mary above the dresser. She took a match from the dish below the picture and lit a candle. She fell down on her knees and with tears streaming down her face, she prayed, "Please, Mother of God, tell me what to do."
Soon a calm came over her and she pulled the bottom drawer of the dresser out and placed the magazine on the floor underneath the dresser along with the others she had hidden there. Then she went to the kitchen and put the can and it’s contents back in it’s hiding place behind the stove. She picked up the knife and laid it in the sink before she went to her husband still passed out on the floor. From experience, she knew he would not remember what had happened and her only hope of avoiding another beating was to get him undressed and into bed before he woke up.
After she did this, she went to the kitchen, picked up his boots, which she had pulled off of him and put them out on the patio. When she did, she found a large flounder which he dropped there before entering the house. She picked it up and prepared it for baking in the oven. She then prepared a pan of zucchini and began frying some garlic in olive oil. Victor liked thick slices of bread fried in the flavored oil and she cut off five large hunks from the fresh loaf she bought at the market earlier that day.
Just as she was finishing setting the table, she heard Victor stirring in the room above and knew he would soon be up and looking for his supper. She turned the pan back on, placed the bread in it and took the fish out of the oven. She almost jumped when he came into the room but managed to act as if nothing unusual had happened. "Sit down," she told him. "Supper is almost ready."
"Good, I am starving," he said. "Did you cook the fish I brought home?"
"Yes, it is right here. I baked it in lemon juice, just the way you like it," Gabriella said with all the self control she could muster. "I picked some zucchini from the garden and found some very nice ripe olives that the market today."
She placed a cold pitcher of water and a bottle of wine on the table then put the fish in a large platter which she had warmed in the oven. Victor ate in silence but Gabriella knew her efforts were a success because here were no complaints and he grunted in satisfaction as he reached for the last of the fish in the platter.
"Be careful of the bones," Gabriella warned.
Victor stopped chewing and looked at her. "Do you think I am stupid?" he asked. "Do you think I don’t know how to eat fish?"
"No, of course I don’t think you are stupid, Victor. It’s just that the bones break off so easily."
Gabriella began clearing the table as Victor stuffed a large piece of the fish into his mouth and sopped up the juice in his plate with a piece of bread. He began to cough and Gabriella turned to look at him. His back was to her but she could tell he was choking. He turned half-way around in his chair and his face was beginning to turn blue. Gabriella took a step toward him, but stopped and just stared at him instead. He held one hand on his throat and reached out to her with the other. His eyes were pleading with her to help him, but she could not move.
She continued to stare at him and, after what seemed an eternity, his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor. His skin was the color of ash and he was not breathing. After another agonizing moment, Gabriella finally came out of the trance she was in and bent down and touched him. She put her ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat, but the only hear beat she could hear was her own. She put her hand under his nose but could feel no breath and she knew Victor was dead.
Gabriella went to the bedroom, knelt down and lit another candle to the Blessed Mother as she said a silent prayer. Then she put a kerchief on her head and went to the church to summon the priest.
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