Catharsis (Conclusion)

Here comes the conclusion of catharsis as part of Tidal Lock. Stay tuned for the next chapter: “The performance“!

This is the continuation of Tidal Lock as follows:

Tidal lock:

        a. The story of Giselle, Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3,

        b. The dark side of the sun, Part 1, Conclusion

        c. There is no such thing as everlasting love

d. Back where we belong

e. Catharsis, Part 1

Children at play – Agua Caliente Park – Tucson, Arizona, February 2022

Catharsis (conclusion)

Thus, at age nineteen, Giselle was a prima ballerina. Madame Petrova became de facto her agent and the Maestro her guardian angel in the formidable circle of performing arts.

***

Inexorable, time passes. Sometimes it flows down the watershed of life towards uncharted dark blue seas, other times it flies as an unreachable eagle. Little can be done to capture the moment as life freewheels like a whimsical butterfly. Yet, in rare circumstances, time solidifies into a vivid memory that sculpts the rest of one’s life. So was that night at the veranda of Ristorante Belvedere at the Isola dei Pescatori. A lazy breeze was stroking the few trees of the tiny island, rippling the surface of Lake Maggiore and, carrying the scent of nearby gardenias, it caressed the cheeks of the patrons. Giselle was splendid, donning with unpretentious elegance a colorful cotton dress that delineated the exquisiteness of a perfect figure. The black eyes shone through long dark eyelashes contrasting the pallor of the face, which was framed by glistening black hair tightly twisted into a floral bun where petals of a white camelia danced at the rhythm of the zephyr. But it was Giselle’s smile that, whenever it shone like a sunray through the clouds, made the Maestro’s heart shiver.

Years had passed since the Maestro had first met Giselle at the audition organized by Madame Petrova. With his help the disciple had turned into a legend. Contrasting Giselle’s, the Maestro silver hair set a tone of distinguished elegance compensating for a few wrinkles that altered the physiognomy of what used to be a handsome face. Like any other man endowed with eyes to see, and a heart to feel, the Maestro was in love with Giselle. That night he had finally assembled the resolve to invite Giselle out for dinner following a memorable day at Isola Bella, where Giselle, as guest of honor, had received a prestigious award.

Giselle, from her side, adored the Maestro. Never having experienced malevolence in her life, she was inclined to trust and follow the guidance. As for other paternal characters that had shaped her past, the Maestro had gained in the last four years her total confidence. Thus, that unexpected dinner invitation with the powerful man was welcome as a joyful token of achievement. As usual, when not performing, she did not wear makeup, mascara or other enhancements and her natural beauty offered that sense of purity and naivete that attracts mature men.

The Maestro had ordered a bottle of aged Barolo d’Alba that the waiter was pouring into the glasses when Giselle initiated the conversation:

“Thank you, Maestro, for all you have done for me, without you this day would have never happened.”

“Giselle, this is just the predictable consequence of your hard work. It is true that I opened a few doors, but you must take credit for all that you have achieved. I am sure that your parents must be very proud of you.”

“They are! Mon and Dad were worried at the beginning about my choice but now they come at every performance and my Dad acts like a ballet scholar, chanting glories about me to anyone that he can pin down! And so does uncle Borysko, and even Grandma at the village. They all believe that the only thing that matters in life is to be a ballerina! I am happy that I did not disappoint them, and I have to thank you and Madame Petrova for believing in me.”

As dinner progressed from a serving of pumpkin gnocchi in a light Ragu sauce to a grilled perch dish with porcini mushrooms, the Maestro interjected:

“Do you know Giselle? You are the most beautiful person that I ever met. I wish I would have met you long time ago when I was young and uncommitted! You must have a lot of suitors; I wonder who the lucky man will be, whom you will chose one day.”

Observing a light blush in Giselle’s face, the Maestro paused for a few seconds. He held with splayed fingers the glass of wine encouraging Giselle with the gesture to imitate him. He clinked with the rim of his glass the belly of Giselle’s to demonstrate submission to the majesty of beauty.  

Then, unable to restrain the curiosity he continued:

“Madame Petrova told me that your heart is already taken though she did not disclose who the lucky man is.”

After drinking a sip and resting the glass on the table, corrugating the eyebrows, and lowering her eyes, Giselle answered:

“I used to love a man when I was young. He is the reason why I decided to become a ballerina. I wanted a chance to see him again. But I do not know how I feel anymore. He lives far away, he must have forgotten me, and about a year ago Madame Petrova told me that he is married to his cousin. My Grandma wants me to marry someone from our village; a man I have known since I was a little girl. His name is Demetri. He is a very handsome man a little older than I am. He is a good person. He is studying business at the University in Kiev to become a tour manager. Last summer, when I went back to the village, he took me on a walk along the Don and gave me a kiss. He proposed to marry when done with the studies. But, although I like him as a person, I could not kiss him back. Something made me resist his fervent hug and I pushed him away. I told him that I would think about it when the time comes. I have been thinking of him though. He is a good man. Everyone likes him at the village, even Grandma and uncle Borysko. Maybe I should yield.”

“It seems to me that you do not love Demetri, and let me tell you something, life with another person is a very tricky proposition, trust me. At minimum you want to start with love. It may not be all that it takes but it is an essential step! You do not want to carry life the way I did, following a collection of haphazard interactions that in retrospect one tries to weave together into a wicker basket of memories to compile a narrative that would not otherwise exist.”

Giselle’s wide-open eyes were glued to the Maestro’s lips. Against the Italian etiquette, the elbows were resting on the table, the fingers of one hand intertwined with the other, providing support for the chin.

Then the Maestro continued:

“But what about the man of your dreams? How did you fall in love with him, what was special about him?”

“I met him when I was fifteen in the cafeteria of the school. He was visiting from America, from New York. He is a very famous musician. He sat by accident close to me because there was no other open seat and he asked me what I wanted to become in life. I do not know why, but I told him that I wanted to become a prima ballerina. Then he looked deep into my eyes as if he could read my mind and he told me:

If this is what you want; then do it! just as I did! –

But I never saw him again, and those who know him say that he is a bizarre person, a loner, a drug addict and now I also found out that he is married.”

Giselle locked the shiny eyes into the Maestro’s as if she was soliciting sympathy. They were pensive, even sad, and the smile was gone.

And the Maestro replied:

“Giselle, it seems to me that you are still in love with this man or whatever he may represent for you. Maybe, you are in love with a dream, and the wonder is still there. May ask you, who is this famous composer?”

“His name is Paul Vincente. He used to live in New York but now is not there anymore. I even wrote to him a few times, just to ask if I could see him again, but he never returned the correspondence.”

“You kidding? Paul? I know Paul Vicente very well! He is a wonderful man. He is a good friend of mine. I am the one who suggested to invite him for a tour of Italy at that time.  It is true that I have not heard much from him recently. And, by the way, he is not married to his cousin. His cousin’s name is Laura. She is a princess, a delicate, sensitive, and wonderful lady. She is one of the sweetest persons I ever met and of course Paul is attached to her. Paul introverted personality craves for Laura’s safe haven. But they are not married that I know of.”

Giselle was looking at him with incredulous eyes, and the Maestro continued:

“You know? I understand now why you love Paul! Because you are his twin soul! Facing you, it feels like facing him at our favorite Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. The same intensity, the same purity, the same considerate determination, the same convoluted simplicity, the same charisma. Talking to you, as for talking to him, is absorbing! One forgets the rest of the world! One does not feel like a waste of time but rather drinking the essentials of life.

You both are beautiful souls.”

Taking a deep breath and taking another sip of wine the Maestro continued:

“…Now I know why you love him! It is because he is your other half. May be that encounter was not serendipitous. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe each one of us carries a magnet that attracts only one other soul in the universe. And when the magnetism is overpowering, destiny will abide to the inescapable force just as celestial bodies abide to the law of gravity.”

“But what about the drugs and the drinking?” Asked Giselle.

“People say a lot of things in our world, rumors are food for the business to prosper, for the paparazzi to thrive. Epicaricacy gratifies the mob, and celebrities are the favorite targets. Magic Hollywood! …East or West! Kingdoms that have no soul, no stories to tell, only stories to sell. I would not pay any attention to what the “so-called people” say. I admit that I do not know what Paul’s private life is like, but I doubt that he can be as productive as he is by wasting time in self-destructive deeds.

***

After dinner, the couple strolled around the island in a pensive mood with the pretext of facilitating digestion. The maestro offered the harm to Giselle. She reposed one hand on it, listening to the soothing splash of miniature waves that caressed the shore. Then the Maestro stopped, embraced Giselle gently, he held her shoulders and looking into her eyes said:

“Giselle, you are the most beautiful person I ever met. As I said before, If I was not old and committed, I would be standing on my knees with a million-carat diamond in my hands! Don’t sell yourself cheap. Do not let anyone interfere in your life. You are an independent individual. Why should you marry a stranger to please your relatives? It’s disgusting. You should be the only owner of your life. Do not go for something you don’t love. Do it for yourself, in respect for your dream. You do not have to do it for anyone but yourself, not even for Paul. He might not even know that you exist, and he can continue to wander along the path of loneliness. I suppose that he is not expecting anything from you and maybe from life. You owe nothing to him, but you owe it to yourself! Do not throw away a dream. Do not marry a compromise! If it will not be Paul, let someone else be whom you will fall in love with. You are too precious for anything less.

…And, if you want me to, I can arrange for you to meet Paul. I can arrange for him to discover you. I can introduce you to the glamour of Broadway.”

After that, they returned to the hotel to spend the night, and, as they walked, Giselle leaned the head over the Maestro’s shoulder.

Continued in: The performance