The Pioppo Trees - PT. 2

All along the path to Huan Cheng, pioppi clouds filled the roads and swirled around us, pushed by the evening breeze. Cri was sneezing up a storm, hand-sewn handkerchief never leaving her nose for more than a few minutes, whilst Viola tried to repress her sniffles, defensively refusing paper tissues from my cousin.

We crossed the historical centre, completely illuminated by fairy lights. All the cafés were open and swarming with their weekend tipsy folk. We passed Mazzini’s ice-cream shop and the Miracle Sanctuary, then strolled along the rickety, asymmetrical, sampietrini sidewalks, needing to pass the stream of smaller villas to reach la statale.

As Lillian and Viola discussed animes and mangas, Cri and Kami informed each other of recent fashion purchases - each pair fervidly delving deep into details. Ìspirah and I, on the other hand, did in fact continue our conversation about books.

Once I’d realised how thorough her knowledge of British literature was, I was curious to find out whether her expertise of poetry branched outside of Western authors.

“I recently finished writing a commentary article on haikus by Yosa Buson” I tried, not sure what to expect “I find his words, combined with his art, very refreshing”

“I’d have to agree” she chimed back, confident and fully prepared “Some of his work may be cryptic, but it all comes from a place of deep passion. My favourite one is Hito no yo ni, shin wo suetaru, fukube kana”

My cousin and her goth pal flipped upon hearing their well-adored language.

“Oh, my God!” Viola blurted “Of course, you speak Japanese! Christ, Ìspirah!”

“What does it mean~?” Lillian dragged her voice - sometimes, I could’ve sworn she was a cartoon character herself.

“I wouldn’t say I speak, or know, Japanese” Ìspirah smiled “Just a few bits here and there. That was a haiku - it means, In the human world, the gourd has found, a place for itself. It’s my favourite Buson piece”

“It’s very impressive that you can quote him on the spot, Ìspirah, in original language, even”

“Thanks, Michael-”

When she glanced my way, I finally noticed the colour of her eyes: a midnight blue, of an uncommonly dark shade.

“-I just really like that one specifically”

“Why?” Kami chirped from ahead of us.

“Well,” Ìspirah commenced “historically, the gourd is one of the earliest domesticated plants. They were used as tools for all sorts of things, shaped and carved by the people who needed them. I think that the haiku can have two meanings - either the gourd has found its function in the human world, as a tool that is, and goes with it, or, the gourd has found a purpose based on having its own secluded space in the human world, allowing it to be whatever it wants to be”

She was captivating, to say the least.

Whenever I was at Marilyn’s scribbling, I never initiated conversations with her - as I never did with anyone, for that matter. Over the weeks, I’d only overheard the occasional, unusual, conversation. But, now that I was conversing with her directly, regarding a niche I was specialised in, I was slowly grasping the cause of everyone’s stupor.

“Michael?” she was waiting for me to say something - I had completely spaced out.

“Sorry, I was just reflecting on your interpretations. Very insightful… I’m guessing there’s a reason that piece is your favourite”

Gaze dropping to the sidewalk in contemplation, her smile briefly saddened.

“I find the gourd relatable”

Before I could lose myself in that answer, my thoughts were interrupted.

“We’re here!” Lillian yelled.

As a corner of ‘l’isola’ - a neighbourhood in Corbetta everyone called ‘the island’ due to la statale separating it from the rest of the town - was Huan Cheng.

The owners were first generation immigrants, like myself, and most of my family, so there was an implied camaraderie amongst us. It was common use of Chinese migrants in Italy, outside of their homes, to have Italian names to go by. They’d introduce themselves as a ‘Marco’, or a ‘Chiara’, and so on. Thus, ‘Alessandro’ - Ale, for short - had his whole family, kids included, working at his restaurant.

At the entrance, we were greeted by his wife, Sara.

“How manee?”

A slight twang was still present at the end of certain words, as she’d been here far less than her husband.

“We had reservations,” Lillian explained “under Baston”

“Ah yes, good, good” Sara checked the books “Six, yeah? Follow me”

She had us seated at one of the round tables in back - the ones with a circular wooden tray placed in the middle, which could spin, making it easier for everyone to reach and share their food. Scanning the details of the restaurant’s decor, I admired the Chinese landscapes painted and encased in golden frames - they took up most of the rose walls - while, at almost table height, a long thin mirror, with painted goldfish, contoured us, delimiting the lower surfaces, protected by shiny, meticulously polished, wood.

As one would expect on a Friday night, the restaurant was packed, Chinese pop music barely audible from the speakers.

This place hadn’t changed, ever. Just like everything else in town.

When all of us were settled, Ale came by to welcome us.

“Ah! It’s good to see you all!” he motioned towards Ìspirah “Oh? A new friend?”

“Yes, sir” she smiled back “I work at Marilyn’s, too”

“Ah-ha! You are the mystery girl everyone talks about! Welcome!”

He eyed up everyone at the table and finally landed on me.

“Haha, Michael! Beato fra le donne!” he complemented loudly and walked away.

I cringed a bit inside. But, hey, that’s Italy.

“What did he mean by that?” Ìspirah asked.

“It means-” Cri jumped in to explain “-that Michael is lucky to be at a table full of women”

“Too bad that’s wasted on a guy like him!” my cousin laughed.

“Heh, yeah” Viola and Lillian lazily high-fived.

Ìspirah turned towards me.

“Michael, are you gay?”

Well, that was blunt.

I was about to open my mouth, but Kami beat me to it.

“Nah, he’s not gay, but he’s never had a girlfriend either-”

“I-” I took over “I just think that, if I’m meant to like someone that way, it’ll happen. If not, I’m not going to force it”

“That makes sense-”

“Ìspirah!” Lillian gasped “We’ve never asked you if you’ve dated before! Spill!”

The poor girl looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Lils,” I cut in “not everyone is as comfortable as you to discuss these things in front of a group. Let alone in front of a group of people you’ve known for barely three weeks”

My cousin slouched back into her seat.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Ìspy”

“Ìspy?” Ìspirah looked confused.

“Yeah, ‘Ìspy’ - it’s a nickname. We can change it, if you don’t like it”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve just, uh, never had a nickname-”

Before any of us could comment on that, she carried on.

“-And, to answer your dating question, uhm…”

She seemed unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to say.

“If by dating you mean, having genuine romantic feelings for someone and wilfully spending time with them on a frequent basis, then no, I haven’t dated either”

Lillian visibly struggled to keep her excitement to herself. She loved love, especially love-newbies. She felt like she had a new pupil in front of her. Cri, on the other hand, was a tad perplexed.

“That was… oddly specific”

“It’s a specific activity”

“Are you ready to order?”

Lucia, Ale’s teenage daughter, had appeared at our table.

None of us had even looked at the menu. Apologising, we asked for more time and got to work.

…….

It was about 11pm, and I was finally back in my living room. Falling onto my couch, I stared at the small pioppi clouds resting on my living room floor - they’d always find a way to make it indoors.

Letting out a sigh, I reflected on the dinner and the aftermath.

Everyone had requested their usuals in the end, so looking at the menus had been futile - aside from Ìspirah.

She’d asked loads of questions about the food throughout the meal.

“I thought you knew everything” Viola had snarked.

“I don’t know much about early 2000s Italo-Chinese fusion cuisine. It’s too recent, there are barely any sources to learn about it at the moment”

“Wait, what do you mean Italo-Chinese?” Kami had stopped mid-bite “Isn’t this regular Chinese food?”

“No, it’s been adapted to appeal to Italian eaters. The food they make in China is nothing like this”

“What?!” Lillian had dragged her vowels, exaggeratedly shocked.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking so many questions. I’m trying to figure out what you guys like and see how it relates to the traditional cuisine”

“You know enough about traditional Chinese cuisine-” Cri had put down her tableware, fully in disbelief “-to actually figure that out?”

“Yes”

She hadn’t batted an eye, digging into the soy rice spaghetti and fried chicken she’d ordered.

“For instance, I never would’ve thought this would be a good combination”

There’d been several instances such as these, across different topics.

For most of the dinner, I’d kept to myself, as I usually would.

I had enjoyed taking in the conversations, observing these people I’d grown up with. I liked seeing the patterns and automatisms they had amongst themselves, and with each other, without even realising it, slightly changing based on who was talking to who.

Lillian would slightly slouch when talking to Viola, but straighten up when talking to Cri. Cri would keep her arms closer to herself when talking to Viola, but she’d be looser around Kami. Kami was a bundle of sunshine with all three of them in a more equal manner, but with Lillian, she was imperceptibly quieter, almost as if she were keeping an eye out for her. Viola was constantly stiff, shoulders tightened at all times, except when she was interacting with my cousin. She’d let her posture down just enough, until she was talking to someone else again.

Ìspirah added a whole new layer to discover.

This was the first time we’d had an addition to the town in years, let alone to our coffee shop.

At the core, Ìspirah seemed to be a nice person, from what I could tell. Viola was suspicious of her and the others were perplexed, but I didn’t think there was much to overthink here. Ìspirah brought with herself a new perspective for us to adjust to, and none of us were prepared for that. All we could do was observe, listen and learn. Eventually, she’d become as familiar as the rest of this town.

As for now, no one even knew why she’d moved here in the first place. Corbetta was small, you didn’t really move here unless you already had family settled in the area.

Yet, anytime someone would ask, she’d be vague.

I looked up at the ceiling in my living room and noticed the same cracks that had always been there. I followed them down the walls… I needed to clean up the spiderwebs, again - my local spiders were fast workers.

My phone buzzed, letting me know I’d received a text from my brother.

“Hey, cht 2mrrw?”

“Sure thing.
I’ll be at Marilyn’s
around 9.30.”