Pretty Little

by Corinna Carlotti, Spring 2023

The southern Italian sun illuminated the summer sky as I laid with Enzo under its apollonian light. Grass beneath us itched but we ignored the sensation. My fingers traced the edges of an empty orange peel beside me. I couldn’t help but shovel the slices into my aching belly. The fruit had given me brief pleasure under the searing beams of heat. Hunger and thirst quenched with sweet nectar. A few minutes later, I found myself craving again. My mind reminisced of the pulp that exploded under my tongue in orange rays. Juicier slices had left a trail of sweet liquid that ran from my mouth down my chin and found a resting place between my breasts. I took my two fingers and lapped up the excess before sticking them between my plump lips, sucking them dry. 

Propping himself on his elbow, Enzo dragged his thumb across my chin saying, “You missed some amica.”

My eyes struggled to meet his amidst his thumb quickly entering his mouth to finish off any lingering juice. There were many times when I wanted to tell Enzo what he meant to me. More than just a friend from primary school, he was my first love. No matter what boys tried to flirt with me in class, he lingered in my mind like a statue, so perfect and pristine. Everyone knew he was the most attractive boy in our grade. They thought it was so weird that I was his best friend. I wasn’t the most social girl in the school. Infact, people called us Apollo and Selene for how opposite we could be, the sun-god and his nocturnal friend. 

My Nonna sat in the corner of the garden under her pergola. She collected the dried herbs in her withered hands and started to sort out leaves from stems. Then with purposeful strokes, ground the dried leaves in her marble mortar with the long and curved matching pestle. Her arms pushed down into the bowl and a soft crunch fluttered throughout the garden. A swift rotation of the pestle’s nub cut through the air shortly after. The noises became a meditative background for my lounging. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the boy lying beside me. 

Even in my resistance, he found a way into my daydream. The stories in my head started with an innocent peck on the cheek. From there they metamorphosized into flashes of limbs, sweat, and cries that echoed from here to the houses around us. When my mind naturally wanted the stories to reach a climax, I opened my eyes. The sun would scorch any sins lingering in my mind and make me clean again. 

“Emilia,” Nonna called from under her vines. “Come bring these jars into the kitchen for me.” 

I moved from my spot in the grass, wiping my skin free of any dirt. As I approached Nonna, my skin started to prickle with sweat. My shins burned but it felt like penance. Shame crept across my cheeks under the pergola. Wanton fantasies subsided under my grandmother’s holy gaze. Nonna placed the jars in a basket and set it in front of me. 

“You look flush, bimba! Go in and get some water from your Mama. Get some for Enzo too!” 

“Grazie, Signora.” He called in response. 

“Anything for you,” Nonna replied. 

Enzo was a golden child. Anytime he came over, he had some accomplishment to share, and everyone would gush. For anyone else this would have seemed great considering my infatuation with him. My fear was if he didn’t feel the same, I would be broken and so to Nonna and Mama. 

I carried the basket into our house. The tiled floor relieved my sensitive feet. They clapped on ceramic like a pigeon in the piazza before it takes flight. Mama was in the kitchen preparing to marinate chicken for Wednesday night. The process of making her chicken was simple. She would first make the pesto from Nonna’s freshly ground herbs before taking the sauce, massaging it into the chicken breast with gentle motions. Her hands were already coated in oil and garlic when I arrived. Up and down her strokes circled the thick of the breast.

            “Ciao bella,” Mama said cocking her head back towards me as I sat the herbs on the table. “Has the sun drained you yet?” 

            “Hardly.”

            “And Enzo? Comè? Is he seeing anyone?” 

            “Ah, Mama, why do you always ask as if we have a secret to tell you?” 

            “Well would it be that surprising? You’ve only been friends since you were bambini and I think he is a good boy.” 

            “You know what I think? We are both hungry for your chicken.” 

“Cara mi, go eat something from the garden. Dinner will not be ready until after sundown.” 

“Mama, it’s only noon! I am starving.” 

“Go eat something from the garden and distract yourselves. The best things take time. Now, go!” 

Mama traded out my basket for a knitted grocery bag to carry my harvest. She shooed me out of her workspace but not without using a rag to spank me like a misbehaved cow. The sun had greeted me again with a hot pinch on my skin. Nonna smiled at me from her shaded spot. Enzo was in the chair next to her, wooing Nonna as per usual. My feet burned on the hot pavement as I quickly crossed to the garden. Mama had many plants growing simultaneously along with a large lemon tree which had been planted in the corner shortly after I was born. As a girl I used to climb its fragile branches and pluck the fruit from high up so Mama wouldn’t notice their absence. Now the tree was so fertile that we struggled to eat the fruit before it fell and rotted in the grass below. 

Enzo approached me, smiling brightly, “Nonna is laying down for a nap, but I was thinking we could go to the sea.” 

 My heart started to quicken. Nodding gently, I continued to hunt for ripe lemons.  The skin was pimpled on the outside in a bright yellow color that only the Sorrento fruit could bare. I palmed the middle and gave it a light squeeze. It’s insides gently compressed inward- a sign of ripeness. The hard tip raised from the bottom. I thumbed it for a moment recognizing my own body reflected in its shape. Sensing that there was a watchful eye still upon me, my hand tightly gripped the fruit, plucking it from the branch. The leaves whispered pleas as their sister fruit left a hole in its wake. 

Moving to the peppers, I selected the reddest of them, dreaming of their sweet taste on my tongue. Adding in a sprig of rosemary, my harvest was done. Enzo wandered over to the most sacred of all the plants in the garden. The tomatoes scarlet skin dripped from the green vine in plump sacs. Most meals in our house were made from this one fruit. Its flowers have fed our family since before I was born. Only Mama and Nonna plucked from the ancient stems. His greedy hands rubbed the bottom of the fruit. 

“Basta! Enzo we are not allowed to pluck from that vine.” 

“Perché?”

“Because only Mama and Nonna are allowed.” 

“Who says?” 

My eyes rolled automatically in response. 

“What makes them able to pluck from it and not you?” 

“Because you and I are not adults. We do not know when to take the fruit, or how without damaging the vine.” 

“When will you know?” 

“Know what?” 

“When you are ready to pluck.” 

“When Momma and Nonna tell me I am.” 

“And what if you feel it sooner? What if you wanted to pluck right now? They aren’t watching you know.” 

“Stop, Enzo. It’s not funny.” Finding my shoes in the grass, the conversation came to a swift halt. Though he thought his language was coded, I could read right through it. He wasn’t suave with me like he was with the other girls. Enzo often forgot that I had known him before the gods gifted him the art of flirting. “Andiamo.”

The walk to the sandy beach was quite peaceful. The old stone buildings were lined with terracotta roofs and had all their shutters open. Some people sat with their heads out of the windows, faces sagged with heat exhaustion trying to catch the swift breeze. Streets nearer the shore were lined with stone statues; curved bodies beckoning for admirers to stop and stare. Men and women alike immortalized in marble glory. Though their hands had been knocked off, they still had a hold on the people who lived here. 

Enzo ran up to one of the statues, copying its pose. He made faces as he mimicked the contorted shape. Girls our age giggled as they sat on the wall that lined the beach’s walkway. Old couples smiled humorously at his antics. Always the crowd pleaser, Enzo chuckled at himself, and I couldn’t help but let my lips curve towards the sun. A street performer began to unpack his chitarra and set up. It was moments before he was strumming a tune under the heat of the afternoon sun.

“C’mon, Apollo, shows over.” 

I started walking towards the walkway when something ran into me from behind. I almost fell when a hand wrapped around my waist and spun me around. Enzo’s face was inches from mine. 

“Dance with me, Selene.”

A thumping echoed in my chest at his words while my forehead began to prickle, skin searing beneath his touch. The crowd was now not just watching him. They were watching me too, awaiting my answer. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re my best friend.” 

His brow scrunched. Letting me go, he stepped back, “I don’t want to be friends, Emilia.” 

“You just said you wanted to dance.” 

“Well, apparently friends can’t dance, so just forget about it. You don’t see it do you?” 

A group of classmates were walking towards us. Their loud conversation made Enzo turn his head. The boys all chanted his name when they saw him. Our time alone was dwindling. I tried to search his face for any drop of sunshine. It seemed his demeanor had shifted entirely. 

“What am I supposed to see, Enzo?” 

“I’m not spelling it out for you this time, amica.” 

Antonio ran up behind Enzo and rubbed his hair in a rough manner. Suddenly Enzo was once again playing the role of Apollo, entertaining the group of boys in front of him. They all started running down the walkway towards the sand. Antonio threw a volleyball at Enzo who then threw it to another classmate of ours. I stayed in my spot, too stunned to follow. 

“Pretty, aren’t they?” 

Greta, a girl from my school, approached me. Her tall body rested on the wall. She had nothing on but her swimsuit. Her goldened chest was barely supported by the top. Its strings wrapped tightly around her curvy frame. Looking at her felt like looking at the statues come to life. Her waist was wide and supple. I hadn’t ever seen her outside of our school uniforms. She seemed so grown up without the pleated skirt and tie. 

“Yeah, gorgeous.” 

Greta smirked and walked towards me. Her eyes found themselves on the nearest statue. It was a man with no arms, though his torso and leg muscles made up for what he lacked. Right between his legs, a crumbled mess. She traced his knee and let her finger slide up his thigh. Her pointer rested on his hip. “It’s sad, isn’t it?” she laughed as she flicked the wreckage of the statue’s crotch. “He’s missing his cazzo.”

I didn’t quite care. 

“Headed to the beach?” 

I nodded, “I was, but it seems Enzo and I are in a tiff.” 

“You don’t need him to enjoy the beach, Emilia. Here, come with me instead.” 

She held out her hand. I took it because it felt like the natural thing to do.

We started towards the shore together. The sun was just below its apex as it shimmered on the waves in the distance. Greta and I weren’t close friends, but it didn’t feel wrong to walk beside her. I could hear the laughter and splashing water of the boys from where we were. At the cool sand on the shoreline, I set my bag on the ground. 

“Are you not coming to hang out with everyone?” 

“I think I’d prefer to stay here.” 

I wasn’t prepared for her to say, “Ok, I’ll stay here then.” 

A sigh left her lips in a breathy release. Before I could stop her, she was digging through my satchel of fruits and veggies. Greta had a curiosity I felt I couldn’t stop. Even if I could, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Like a splash of cool water, she was a relief to the whiplash I was feeling with Enzo. 

“You brought a lemon to the beach?” My head dropped and she grabbed my shoulder. “No, it’s fine! I just don’t know many people who would eat an entire lemon alone. The peppers I get- wait… is that a sprig of rosemary?” 

I looked at her as my face warmed. She chuckled and I couldn’t help but join her. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“Looks like you were hungry and couldn’t decide how to satisfy it.” 

A feeling crept around the corner of my mind. It loomed, a statue. Real and unmoving, and in the shape of a boy. My stomach ached but it wasn’t the only tension I felt in my torso. Greta’s eyes floated between my mine and what lie beneath. I watched as her gaze grazed my nose and then down to my lips. She abandoned her gaze the moment I parted them to speak. 

“Are you ready for our final year?” 

Greta laughed. 

“The real question is are the nuns ready for their final year with me?” 

            “I think they will be happy to see the dress code restored to normal after you leave, Greta.”

            She smiled, “You don’t approve of my fishnets in the winter?” 

            “Oh Dio, Greta! I think Sister Anne almost had a heart attack when you wore those.” 

            We both chuckled at the memory. 
            The sea gently swayed onto the shore in small waves. Foam collected at our feet, cooling our toes. Birds flew in erratic patters trying to find their prey in the depths below. Everyone at the beach was either lounging or running about. The elderly let the sun wrinkle their skin while the young crowd gave that power to salty water. 

            Looking back to the boys, they all were preoccupied with their volleyball match. Enzo shouted and jumped after scoring a point. The boys rallied together in their triumph as if nothing else was happening around them. 

            “What’s going on between the two of you?” 

            I didn’t know how to answer her question. We were friends. Potentially not friends after our disagreement. I still loved him, more than he could comprehend. 

            “I said I didn’t want to dance with him in the piazza.” 

            Greta had the same reaction as Enzo, “And why is that?” 

            “Because I told him ‘Friends don’t dance’.” 

            “Huh,” She glanced out towards the distant horizon. “You are in love with him, aren’t you?” 

            “He’s my best friend.” 

            “That doesn’t answer my question, Emilia.” 

            “I feel like you are asking me because we both know the answer, but you just want me to say it out loud.” 

            “Would it be so bad?” 

            My throat gripped what was lodged between my chest and my mouth. It was a ball of possibility, but also of fact. Greta didn’t know me well and yet she had figured me out in a few moments together. If she had seen through me, how many others had as well? I always figured I was safely hidden. It seemed that the more time I spent with Enzo, his ability to capture attention was bleeding onto me, painting me a bold metallic shade of apollonian gold. 

            After letting me ponder my thoughts, Greta insisted we walk more southward. It hadn’t occurred to me that she was slowly kneading me, softening me for answers. 

I had seen her hang out with the boys for years. She never liked to be with other girls unless they were also athletic. Though Greta liked to get rough on the football field, there was nothing gruff about her appearance. Her body was carved like the marbled women of the piazza, and her face painted by the gods. The sun tainted her hair as it casted down from the heavens. She was telling me some story about a boy she went to a dance with last year. He was a ‘blubbering idiot’ who, according to Greta, could not kiss. My cheeks lit up in personal embarrassment. I had dreamed of the moment I would be able to kiss Enzo, or any boy for that matter. Having never had the chance, it was a foreign concept. Girls like Greta seemed to be doing more things than just kissing, the things I had daydreamed about in Mama’s Garden. 

            “You’ve gone quiet, Emilia. What is going on?” 

            “I… it’s nothing.” 

            “No, come on! Dimmi! I won’t tell anyone else!” She held out a fist, her pinky finger raised to the sky. “Please.” 

            It felt so rare to be able to have a friend like Greta. Enzo was my only link to the high school social circle. I was a loner without him. My window of opportunity with other kids at my school was slim to none. I took a chance and wrapped my finger around hers. 

            “I haven’t done anything.” 

            “You haven’t had sex? That’s fine. Have you ever… you know? Given a blowjob?” I shook my head. “Emilia! Tell me you’ve at least kissed someone?” 

            I shook my head a second time. 

            “Well, that needs to change right now.” 

            Hooking her arm around mine, she started dragging me away from the shore and back to the boys. I tried to dig my feet in the sand. 

            “Greta I am not going to go kiss Enzo right now!” 

            She stopped and squinted. Pivoting, she now was leading me towards a changing booth by the walkway. My heart was thumping along its rib cage as Greta pushed us into the small box made for patrons. 

            “Don’t worry my friends and I do this all the time to get our nerves out.” 

It was quiet and dark. The sounds of the sea felt muted amongst the rustling of the curtain she drew to give us full privacy. Greta grabbed the sides of my face gently. A smile swiped across her lips as she started to lean in. I knew what was going to happen, but I didn’t want to stop it. I really wanted to believe that this would boost my confidence with Enzo, even if it potentially unlocked something else. 

            As her lips met mine, my lungs expanded, inhaling all the air around us. They were soft and gentle but confident. Something clicked into place in my mind. The statue that lingered in the corner was now on fire. Its marble body was freed with an intensity that I had never thought possible. As we kissed, I imagined the body folding like melting wax into the crevasses of my mind. It slipped and slithered into oblivion but not before painting everything a tarnished shade of white. 

            When Greta pulled away, my lip twitched, wanting more. 

            “See,” She giggled. “Now you know what to do.”

            “You do this with your friends?” 

            “Only special friends.” 

            “I am special?” 

            “Of course,” she opened the curtain to go back towards the sea. “If Enzo can’t see it, just remember I did… I do.” 

            Her lighthearted smile darkened into a melancholy one. 

            Slowly, we traversed back to the volleyball game. The boys were the same, showing off their physiques like ancient romans. Greta and I did not hold hands like before. The energy between us had changed. I feared that if I touched her, I would not be able to stop. It wasn’t just her, however, because the entire world around me had shifted. I looked upon the boys with less annoyance than before. I needed an outlet to put energy into that had been ignited by Greta.  

            She ran over to join them and tagged herself into Enzo’s spot. He shook the sand out of his hair and made his way over. Watching him walk now, I couldn’t help as my fantasies manifested physically. Now that I knew how it felt, my body ached in a way it hadn’t ever. The grip I had on my bag only tightened. My toes dug into the sand to stop me from touching him. My gut clenched in, afraid to graze his skin with mine, knowing what it would do to me. 

            “I think it’s best if I head home soon,” my gaze never reached his. 

            “I’ll come with. I promised Nonna I would stay for dinner.” 

            So, we went home.

 It was good to not feel like Enzo was some perfect figure in my mind. Greta had showed me my perceptions of want could change. My release didn’t have to be brough on by Enzo, but I wanted it to be. Still, there was a lingering feeling of unfulfillment. My body was keenly aware of how close he walked with me, the heat of his shoulder when it neared mine. I even smelled him in a way I never had before. The air was thick and suffocated by his cologne. It wasn’t just my body I felt, but his as well. 

            Mama and Nonna were setting the table when we came back. Enzo immediately jumped in place for Nonna, and I for Mama. Thoughts riled up in my brain, hypothesizing the future, Enzo, and his place in it. Would we set tables together forever? 

            The lighting in the cucina was low and warm. We were quiet as we set the table. Instead of moving in harmony, our bodies preferred to be separated. He was avoiding conflict; I was avoiding my conflicting feelings. We could work through our fight earlier. Whether we could work through my romantic feelings or not was to be seen. 

            Mama’s chicken was good as usual. She and Nonna talked about the garden and how the harvest was better than last year. Mama thought it was because she was using a new fertilizer. Nonna thought that it was because we had more rain. They were both probably right. Still, they chatted as I kept my head in the chicken and insalata Nonna whipped up. Mama would glance my way, but I tried to not make too much eye contact. 

            Mama could always tell when I was upset. Even if I tried to hide it, she would find out. I’m sure her suspicion was only furthered by the fact that I hadn’t spoken to Enzo at all during our meal. A part of me hoped Mama would mistake my blush for sunburn. Either way, the blinding sunlight had caused my cheeks to turn rosy. 

Enzo chimed in that everything was perfect “as per usual” and Nonna squeezed his cheek. 

            “Emilia,” Mama called from the other side of the table. “I noticed that there were a few tomatoes missing from the vine.” 

            “I didn’t pluck anything, Mama. I swear.” 

            “Well, it wasn’t me,” she countered.  

            “It was me,” Enzo pipped up. My eyes cut to him with his head hung. “Mi dispiache. I was hungry and I took without asking.” 

            Mama raised her brows. 

            “I am surprised, Enzo. You know those vines are like my children.” 

            “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” 

            “It is not me, but the vines you have stolen from who may feel disrespected.” Mama looked over to me and back to him. A smile forced its way onto her face. “I am sure they will find a way to forgive you, Enzo.” 

            He softly raised the corners of his mouth, “I hope so.” 

            Later on, after we had cleaned dishes, Mama told me to escort Enzo out. Her and Nonna had gone into the living room to watch the nightly news. Stepping outside, the air had cooled dramatically, though there was a lingering humidity that clung. The moon was well into the sky, illuminating the garden path. Working my way through the motions, I headed towards the garden gate. 

            Enzo’s hand hooked mine and led me to a secret corner of the garden where he and I used to play. We would plan out grand heists, new games, and anything we could imagine.

            “Talk to me,” he begged. 

            I was really feeling it, rooted in my body, spreading, and growing like a vine. 

Our fight was over these feelings, not anything he did. Anything that happened before was flying far away with the western wind. Here and now, I was going to go for what I wanted, and I wanted this badly enough to risk it all. 

I kissed him, he stilled. I opened my eyes to his which were wide. 

            “I don’t want to just be friends,” I breathed. 

            “Me either,” He kissed me again before he leaned his forehead into the wall behind me. Enzo’s breath fanned my shoulder. “You think your Mama will forgive me for taking the forbidden fruit?” 

            I laughed and hugged him tighter to me. 

            “It’s you, Enzo. She forgave you before you even stole it.”