Call it liberty 

Close your eyes, breathe deeply and listen to yourself.

novel

Call it liberty 

© 2020 Il Filo di Arianna Publishing House, La Spezia 

telef. +39 3497762040 - +39 3273457152 

email us @ilfilodiariannaedizioni.eu 

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events narrated are the product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. 

Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, existing events and places is to be considered purely coincidental. 

dedicated to Fernando and Patrizia 

" Life without freedom,  

   is like a body without the spirit. " 

                                  KHALIL GIBRAN 

PROLOGUE

Have you ever felt inside a cage made of habits and situations that imprison you? 

Of living a life that no longer belongs to you, in which all your certainties are crumbling into a thousand pieces? Of looking at yourself in the mirror and not recognizing that reflected image? 

Of wanting to get away from everything and everyone to find yourself, to rediscover that most authentic, essential and deep part of you? 

Here, all this happened to me one day, out of the blue. 

It is a strange feeling, something that moves you inside, complicated to explain in words, difficult for others to understand. I can't put a precise name to what I felt, but I do know that it changed the course of my existence.... 

ONE

Rain. It has been a long time since Julia has seen rain.

From the large window of her hotel room, Julia watches the rain fall incessantly on the roofs of the buildings around and on the city streets. A hard, steady rain on a late May afternoon. The rain, she thinks. Yes, the rain -- it should wash my impatient soul.... 

Julia has been absent from home for more than two months. She is now in Brussels for a human rights conference. She is a journalist and foreign correspondent for a historic Italian newspaper, for which she has worked for several years. She speaks English and French very well and has a strong critical and ethical sense. Julia wears her 40s well. Medium-length brown hair with an asymmetrical fringe, which highlights her emerald green eyes, and an open smile make her a charming woman.

While she is absorbed in her thoughts, as she often is in recent times, suddenly, she hears a knock at the door. She puts down the hot cup of tea, which she has in her hands, and goes to open it.

"Hello, Julia, are you all right?" asks a deep male voice.

"Yes, thank you. I'm a little tired from the long trip--just a few hours ago I was in Washington and, now, I'm here. It may be the time difference, but I feel I need to rest to regain my strength. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow," she says, sighing.

"So, I'll leave you alone. I'll see you later for dinner."

"Perfect! See you later, Marco," she confirms, closing the door again.

Marco is a man in his 50s, tall, with a strong build, married and the father of two girls. He covers foreign policy for a radio and television station. And it was on the radio station that she met him. They collaborated on a book on international politics, finding good success among publishing critics. He is also a true friend, able to listen to her and encourage her, always giving her the support she needs.

8 p.m.

Julia makes her way to the dining room. Waiting for her is her colleague who, with a gentle wave of his hand, invites her in. After taking a seat in a reserved corner, they order mussels with fries, a typical local dish.

"Have you rested? Have you recovered your energy?" he asks, in a caring tone.

"Let's say yes, although it's a period when I always feel tired, I can't concentrate. I love my job, I live to be a journalist, but these weeks have really been the hardest, with impossible hours..."

"Maybe, my friend, you need to take some time off -- after all, you've been working for almost two years nonstop."

"You are right. I should give myself a vacation, but the director's consent is needed first, and that is not an easy thing. He always expects equal dedication to work from his staff."

"You'll see he'll understand," he encourages her.

"Let's hope so! I'm on the verge of a breakdown-and not just because of work, you know that, Marco."

"Yes. Work for you has been, these past few months, just a refuge, a way to get away from more. If you don't feel up to dealing with what is distressing you so much, then a vacation is for you, and I ... have an idea!"

"Let's hear it-I'll take any suggestion. Right now I can't even come up with a destination," she concludes, demoralized.

He pours white wine into her glass. "I have a close childhood friend who, for several years, opened a small family-run resort in southern Sardinia. It's a very quiet place, right by the sea. You know, in the summer I often go there with my family. Pietro is very kind and his wife helps him in running the hotel."

"Wow! It must be a very special place. You're making me really want to go..."

"Here ... I'll leave you the business card. Here you can find the phone number and email. Call him, you won't regret it."

"Thank you! I will contact the director tomorrow to make an appointment, I prefer to talk to him in person."

The waitress approaches the table and gently sets the plates down.

"Really good!" he exclaims. "Aren't you going to eat, Julia?"

"I'll try something, although I don't have much of an appetite. I feel like I'm going to have a severe headache," he says, as he bites into a potato chip.

"You will have dessert, though, won't you?" he adds, winking.

"Ah, yes. I certainly won't give that up!"

After finishing the waffles with whipped cream and chocolate, she lets out a slight yawn, revealing some tiredness. "I think I'll go to sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow."

Arriving in front of their respective rooms, they said their goodbyes and arranged to meet at 8 a.m. in front of the hotel lobby.

Once inside her room, Julia removes her clothes and puts on a white shirt. She takes an analgesic for her aching head and dives onto the bed, exhausted. Before falling asleep, she stares at the resort's note... Oasis of Peace... is all I need now she thinks, as she closes her eyes, trying to sleep.

8:30.

Marco stands in front of Julia's room, looking worried. "Julia? Julia?" he calls to her, knocking insistently on the door, but she does not answer. Suddenly, the door opens softly.

"But, Julia, are you still in your pajamas? Congress starts in ten minutes," he urges her, pointing to the clock.

"Oh, no! The alarm clock didn't go off!"

"If we're late, they won't let us in, you know that."

"You're right! Just wait two minutes!" He runs to the bathroom. He quickly washes his face, puts on a satin shirt and a pair of jeans. The man waits with his arms folded.

After a few moments of waiting, Julia comes out, slamming the door, which closes behind her. "Come on, let's go!"

The cab stops in front of an old building along the city's main street. The two manage to get in just in time. They show their journalist badges to the usher and then take a seat in the chairs at the end of the hall, next to other colleagues. Julia looks around. The room is packed. Toward the entrance she notices the photojournalists ready to take pictures. In front of her, the speakers whisper among themselves. Suddenly, she feels a polar cold on her, due to the powerful jet of air conditioning pointing in her direction. She grabs her jacket and covers her shoulders. He wears a scarf around his neck and closes his eyes, hoping that everything will be over as quickly as possible. After about an hour, Marco senses his friend's blank expression.

"Would you like to have coffee?" he asks her, seeking her gaze.

"Yes, gladly. I also have an appetite, and my stomach is starting to notice it," she replies, with a slight smile.

While they are at the bar counter, Julia looks at her smartphone and notices an unanswered call. It is her mother, who has been looking for her. She doesn't feel like contacting her again. I'll think about it later, she tells herself, sighing.

The meeting ends at the appointed time. Julia has an excruciating headache. She can't wait to get back to the hotel.

Reaching the hotel, Marco greets her, giving her an appointment for the next morning. "See you at six o'clock sharp."

"This time I will be on time. We must not miss the flight. I want to get home, I have some matters to settle."

Julia crosses the lobby slowly, takes the elevator and heads for the room, staggering. She struggles for the key in her purse and enters. She decides to take a shower to recover what little energy she has left. He orders dinner with room service. After eating, he lies down on the bed and grabs his cell phone. He finds another unanswered call-it's his sister.

He tries to reach her. The line is clear.

"Hello, Vera. Have you been looking for me?"

"Hi Julia! Yes! I have been looking for you! You should know that Luke contacted me this afternoon."

"Luke? And what did he want?"

"You know very well, Julia! It's been a few days that Luke keeps calling me or Mom to hear from you. He says you don't answer the phone, that he needs to talk to you and...." he can't finish his speech, because she interrupts her.

"Yes, I get it, it's always the same old story!" she exclaims, annoyed.

"It may be the same old story, but you definitely need to talk to him -- after all, you are engaged and he has a right to know how you are."

"Yeah, how am I?" he whispers quietly.

"Julia, I can't hear you well. Communication is disrupted."

"Don't worry, I will fix everything tomorrow when I get back." 

"Make sure you really fix everything, because we can't always justify you. Good night, little sister." 

"Good night, Vera," she replies, before hanging up. Then, she turns off the light and tries to sleep, but thoughts take over. She spends a restless night. 

TWO

"We have arrived, dear colleague," says Marco, dragging his trolley through the corridor of Milan Malpensa airport. 

"Eh, yes..." she sighs. 

Before saying goodbye, he reminds her of the proposal to take a vacation. "Will you let me know, then?" 

"Of course! I have an appointment with the boss later...let's hope well," she says, crossing her fingers. 

"Bravo! Way to go!" he exclaims, trying to encourage her. 

They greet each other with a strong hug. Julia takes a cab, which leaves her in front of the newspaper office. After paying for the ride, she gets out of the car. She looks at her watch and quickens her pace. The editor is expecting me at eleven o'clock, she murmurs to herself. 

Arriving in the central corridor, she greets colleagues and drinks coffee to give herself a boost. She approaches the director's office and is agitated to hear the heated tones of conversation. This is not the best time! she thinks worriedly as she falls back to the waiting room. After five minutes, the door opens and she notices the secretary leaving with a somber face. She takes courage. She sets off toward the room with a determined stride. She knocks a few times on the door and enters. The director is sitting in his black leather chair, intent on writing on a sheet of paper. By the look of him, he does not look his 60s. He is of average height, with thick, gray hair and a pair of glasses resting on his nose for a closer look. From his manner, he exudes a strong charisma with a great deal of journalistic experience behind him. She demands a lot from her reporters, especially foreign correspondents, and this, she knows well. 

Suddenly, the man raises his head. His face is serious, with a wrinkle between his eyebrows, and his gaze cold. "Good morning, Julia, have a seat," he says, pointing to the chair in front of him. 

"Good morning, director," he replies, placing the suitcase next to the desk. 

"How did the congress go? I want a written report later." 

"Yes, of course."  

"So...what do you want to talk to me about? I understand it's about something urgent, or am I wrong?" he asks, in a firm voice. 

"First of all, I would like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to have this work experience, it was very helpful and valuable and...." 

"E?"  

"I'll cut to the chase, so as not to waste your time." 

"Let's hear... what is it all about?"  

"As you know, these past two years, I've been very busy--I've always accepted all the assignments you've given me. I've traveled a lot and never stopped. Here... it's a difficult time, I'm feeling very tired, and I could use a vacation, if that's okay with you," he concludes, all in one breath. 

After a few minutes of glacial silence, the man in a firm tone replied, "Julia, you and I have known each other for quite some time. How long? Ten years, maybe?" 

"Eleven, exactly." 

"Good. In eleven years she has never asked me for anything, she has always worked with extreme professionalism, and, therefore, I think it is proper to grant her the whole month of June." 

To Julia this does not seem possible. The director was really sympathetic. A slight smile appears on his lips. "Thank you," she says, shaking his hand. 

"You're welcome. I think a vacation will do her good, because then a busy year awaits her." 

"What do you mean?" she asks, puzzled. 

"I mean that, in July, she will leave for London where she will stay as a correspondent for a year. I think it's a good opportunity for her career, don't you think?" she replies, showing a grin on her face. 

Did I get it right? London? A year? she wonders, upset. No, that's not possible! Just London, that city I ran away from last time -- yes, London, the city where Luke lives! 

"Julia? Julia?" he calls her back, interrupting her thoughts. "If there is nothing else, I wish her a good vacation. Take care, I want to see you again in strength before you leave for England. Goodbye."

Julia grabs her suitcase and walks out of the newsroom, incredulous. She walks down the street with a blank stare. She feels increasingly distressed. She could not say no to the editor. She could not shout in his face that she would never go to London, because ... her breath becomes shorter and shorter and her face turns pale. Her hands shake, a sense of dizziness pervades her. She can barely hail a cab to get home.

Julia lives in the Navigli area of Milan, near the famous waterways. In the evening, especially in summer, the neighborhood comes alive thanks to the various clubs, bars, and restaurants that stay open late into the night.

Stepping through the door of her small apartment, she feels better, protected and away from all worries. She drinks a glass of cool water and lies down on the sofa. Immediately, her mind flies back to past times, to when her long cohabitation with her future husband ended. Yes, because she was supposed to get married but, suddenly, everything vanished. She thought she had found the right person to share her life with ... things, however, turned out differently. He left, saying that he no longer loved her. Those were difficult years, in which she tried to make sense of her existence again, throwing herself headlong into her work, until she met Luke. A professional photographer for a major London magazine, Luke was often abroad for his nature-related photo shoots.

She had met him, for the first time, on a hot summer day in Central London Park. She was sitting on a bench resting and he was intent on taking some photographic shots. With a trivial excuse, he approached her and introduced himself. She was fascinated by the man's good looks. About six feet tall, light eyes, medium-length blond hair, a somewhat unkempt beard, a physique with well-sculpted muscles, and a few years older than her. From then on they dated more and more often, until Luke proposed to her by giving her an important diamond ring.

Faced with that request, she had been paralyzed and, because of that, had taken time to think. "I need to think," she told him, a few weeks before leaving for Washington.

Sure, she was having a good time with Luke, they had many interests in common, but she never thought this could happen. The photographer was not giving up, continuing to pester her with calls and texts for an answer.

As she is about to fall asleep in the company of these thoughts, her cell phone rings repeatedly. She decides to answer it.

"Hello, Vera."

"Sister, what happened to you? Have you arrived in Milan? I haven't heard from you." 

"Sorry, I've been busy." 

"You're always so elusive. Listen-what do you say we meet for dinner tonight?" 

"Well, I don't know..." 

"I've already arranged it! I'm just leaving the studio now. Little Rebecca is at home with her daddy and I'm free to join you!" 

"Don't be offended..." she tries in vain to justify herself, but is interrupted. 

"I'll be with you shortly, I'll get the food," he says hanging up, giving her no right of reply. 

Vera is like that. Insistent, determined. Perhaps, because of her daily profession as a lawyer in a major law firm in the city.  She is married and has a seven-year-old daughter, who looks very much like her. 

Julia has always gotten along well with her sister but, in recent times, they often find themselves arguing. After their parents separated when they were still children, they always supported each other. Their father left the house where they lived and moved abroad with his new partner. They never saw him again. They heard him on the phone from time to time. They had grown up with their mother, who managed to support them until they were in college, until they became financially independent. 

8 p.m. sharp.  

The doorbell rings insistently. The noise rumbles in Julia's aching head, who goes to open it. Vera shows up with dinner purchased at the trusted deli. 

"Good evening, little sister." He greets her with a kiss on the cheek. 

Vera wears a tight pencil skirt and a floral blouse. Impeccable in her look. Straight raven-black hair of medium length, always tidy, her hands manicured, and a red lipstick that lights up her plump lips. No one would ever give her forty-five years. 

"Hello, Vera. Have a seat," he says, inviting her in. 

The woman heads to the kitchen corner, sets down the envelopes, and begins to set the table. Within minutes, everything is ready. 

"There! We can eat!" she exclaims, excitedly. 

"How organized and so precise you always are," Julia comments, in a hushed voice. 

"So what's with the tone? Now you and I are going to have a little talk..."  

"And what do we talk about? Ah, let me see if I can guess -- about Luke, maybe?" 

"I don't want to get into your business, dear sister, but you should know that Mother and I are very worried about you. Can we help you in any way? In the last few weeks you have seemed so distant and sad to us--listen, I already anticipated to you on the phone that for several days Luke has been asking about you. Why don't you call him? Have you been arguing? It can happen in a couple, you know, but you need to clarify--" 

Julia, not withstanding that doggedness, decides to reveal everything to her. "He asked me to marry him." 

"Luke-what? Oh, that's wonderful!" she cries, elated. "I'm happy for you--and besides, he's such a charming guy, I liked him immediately from the first moment I saw him--oh, Julia! When's the wedding?" she asks, getting more and more excited. 

"I haven't given him an answer yet...I asked him for time to think." 

"No way!" she exclaims, rising to her feet. "You've known each other for two years, why didn't you say yes to him right away?" 

"Because I'm confused..." he replies, looking lost in the void. 

"Julia-you're forty years old, your biological clock is about to expire, if not already deceased, by the way-you need to get a move on, what are you waiting for?" he continues, shaking her verbally. "Luke is the man! I've seen the way he looks at you when you are together. He's head over heels in love with you and then ... he's so kind and caring!" 

"Yes, I know. He is great, but ... there is something holding me back, I have a strange feeling ..." 

"To hell with your feelings! You've been living together for years and look how it ended! Now is the right time, the right man!" he tries to convince her. "Besides, your biological clock..."  

"Enough of this biological clock business! It's true I'm forty years old ... in my life I've made choices and I don't regret them. Everything didn't turn out as I hoped, I know, but I have no regrets. Now I feel it's wrong to marry Luke-I don't love him the way he loves me!" she concludes exhausted, getting up from her chair. 

Vera tries to calm her down. "Maybe you are afraid. It's understandable, but you'll see that everything will be all right--marry him, you won't regret it." 

"Oh, Vera! Damn it! I'm tired, I don't want to talk about it anymore!" she exclaims, nervous. "I thank you for dinner, but now I want to be alone for a while." 

"Whatever, but if you decide not to marry him you have to tell him as soon as possible, he deserves an answer," she retorts, her index finger pointing at her. 

Julia watches her sister, wondering how she always manages to take life head-on; she never seems to be afraid of anything. 

"What are you doing in the next few days?" asks Vera, trying to tone down the conversation. 

"I've taken a vacation. I'm going to the beach." 

"Where?" 

"In Sardinia, in a small resort.... I need absolute rest." 

"I think it's the best choice, it will be good for you. Before you leave, are you going to visit mom?" 

"Oh, yes! I'll see you tomorrow for lunch." 

"Good," Vera replies, looking at the gold watch, which is on her wrist. "It's getting late, I have to wake up early tomorrow-I have a very important business appointment. So... good night, little sister," he whispers to her with an affectionate caress on her face. 

"Give little Rebecca a kiss," Julia replies as she gently closes the apartment door, biting her lower lip to force herself not to cry. With small steps she reaches the kitchen and downs a paracetamol tablet with a glass of water. He drags himself toward the bedroom. She throws the clothes she is wearing on the floor and lies down on the bed, devastated. Suddenly, tears start streaming down her face, wetting the pillow she holds tightly to herself. A sense of emptiness tears at her soul. Her suffering is inconsolable. She remains in this state for about twenty minutes, until exhaustion takes over and she falls asleep. 

THREE

9 a.m. 

Julia wakes up suddenly, drenched in sweat and still dazed. She heads to the bathroom to refresh her face with cold water. She looks at herself in the mirror and sighs. She looks exhausted, broken. After a cup of coffee and a couple of cookies, she sits down in the armchair. She gathers her hair into a tail and catches her breath. She stares, for five minutes, at the smartphone next to her. Then she decides to call. 

"Oasis of Peace?" she asks, in a gentle tone. 

"Good morning. I am Pietro. Can I help you?" 

"Good morning, Peter. I would like to know if you have room in your facility for a couple of weeks, starting this Sunday." 

"Let's see, do you need a double?" 

"Yes, for single use." 

"I have the superior on the second floor with sea view balcony free." 

"Oh, great! Can you email me all the details?" 

"Yes," replied the man, noting the address. "You will receive everything shortly." 

"I thank you. By the way, my colleague, Marco, greets you. He was the one who gave me the name of the 'hotel." 

"Ah, Marco... of course! We have known each other for many years. He often comes here on vacation with his family. So, see you soon ma'am..." 

"Julia." 

"Perfect, Julia. I am waiting for your confirmation regarding the reservation." 

"Sure. Thank you again and goodbye," he says, ending the call. 

I managed to get a seat--so lucky! Now there's only the flight to book and the suitcase to pack--think, satisfied. 

Lunchtime arrives. Julia has an appointment with her mother at a small restaurant near the house, where they often get together to talk. Reaching the restaurant, she takes a big breath and enters. He sees her sitting at a table in a reserved corner, intent on reading a book. 

He approaches her to say hello. "Hello, mami!" 

The woman stands up to hug her daughter. "Hello dear, how are you?" 

"I'm fine," she replies, hiding her worries. 

"You look wasted. Are you tired, perhaps?" 

"A little. In this last period, I've been working a lot." 

After a few moments of waiting, they order food and drink. They begin to chat. The mother reveals to her that she has been contacted by Luke several times in the last week. Julia confides to her all her uncertainties about the possible marriage and her intention to take a vacation.  

"You have to do what you feel and what feels good. Life is one, it's yours, and you have to be happy-you deserve it," he reassures her, taking her hand. 

Tea has always been present in her daughters' lives; she is a friend, the best confidant, the reference point, the safe harbor to dock in times of storm. She worked for several years in the family textile business. After her marriage, which lasted just over ten years, she had no other romantic relationships. She devoted herself to her daughters' education and work. 

Tea, at sixty-five years old, is a tall woman with elegant bearing, two sincere green eyes, and a friendly smile. From time to time, she goes out with her friends to the theater or to dinner. She loves to read a lot and, because of this, spends entire Sundays in bed, devouring book after book. 

"I'm leaving on Sunday for Sardinia," Julia continues. 

"Try to relax and don't think about anything. Empty your mind of all your worries. Talk to me as soon as you arrive, so you can tell me what the place is like. Maybe, who knows, someday I might go there myself." 

Julia nods in agreement. He gets up to pay the bill and drives her home. "See you soon, mami," he whispers to her, with an affectionate kiss on her cheek. 

Before returning to her apartment, Julia decides to stop at a few stores to shop for her impending departure. 

Once inside the house, she places her bags on the floor and sits on the sofa to check her e-mail. Peter's e-mail has arrived.  

I can't wait to leave...everything is ready now...round trip flight booked, hotel confirmed, suitcase almost completed. Only one thing left to do...call Luke!  

He dials the number on his cell phone. After a few rings. 

"Hello, Julia!" 

"Hi, Luke. Sorry I didn't call you earlier, but I've been very busy with work," she tries to justify herself. 

"You know, Julia--work is an excuse, you know that. And you know very well that you and I need to talk," she retorts, in uncorrected Italian. 

"Luke, listen...I'm really sorry for the way I acted. I walked away from you without giving you an answer, but..." 

He interrupts her. "Well... there is a problem..." 

"A problem? What?" she asks, puzzled. 

"For several days I've been looking for you to tell you that..." 

"What?" 

"Tomorrow I'm leaving for Africa, staying away for a few weeks. I have to do a photo report in the bush." 

Suddenly, she feels relieved. 

"Julia, did you hear me?" 

"Yes, yes!" 

"I'll see you when I get back. I'll wait for you in London so we can talk about it in person." 

"Okay." 

"I'll call you when I get there. Answer my phone and.... call me too!" 

"Have a safe trip, Luke." 

"Kisses and-I love you!" she concludes, hanging up. 

The words I love you resonate in her like a sharp blade, piercing her heart. 

I need to get clarity within myself. To get away from everything and everyone in order to better understand what I really want at this critical time, and vacation presents itself as my salvation, perhaps... 

FOUR

Sunday. The day of departure has arrived. Julia feels light. Her flight will leave in just under an hour. She waits, patiently, in the waiting room in front of terminal number twelve with destination Cagliari. 

When she arrives at the Sardinian airport, waiting for her is Pietro, who has in his hands a paper with Julia written on it. As soon as she sees him, she goes to meet him, trying to study him carefully: he is wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and a blue shirt, his tanned face marked by a few expression lines and his hair slightly graying; he is in his fifties. She approaches him, introducing herself with a firm handshake. 

Climbing into the convertible, they head for the Peace Oasis. 

"It will take about half an hour to reach our destination," says Peter, with a polite smile. 

"As long as it takes," she replies, wrapping the silk scarf around her neck. 

On the way, the warm sun and fresh sea air infuse her with a feeling of serenity. As she travels along the coast, she notices a beautiful natural environment of rocky shores, crystal clear waters, coves and beaches with fine sand. 

"The view is wonderful!" she exclaims, rapt. 

"Oh, yes. Today is a beautiful day. Good thing there's no mistral wind!" 

"The wind chill? I've heard of it..." 

"Yes. It is the master of all winds and blows from the northwest on the island, but it is necessary in the summer to bring down the temperatures, which would otherwise become really scorching. However, there are several sheltered coves in our area where you can stay and sunbathe without being disturbed," he reassured her. "Is this your first time here, in Sardinia?"   

"Yes. And I must say I like it very much. It really is a lovely place..." she concludes, with a satisfied expression. 

Once in front of the hotel, Julia gets out of the car, lowers her sunglasses, and stops to observe it. The old rose-colored walls and numerous white windows make it a welcoming environment. A large archway with bougainvillea and a shaded driveway lead to the entrance. Beyond the door, she is impressed by the grand staircase that leads to the rooms on the second floor. In front of her is a narrow hallway with a few white sofas and paintings on the walls depicting sea waves. Waiting for her behind the reception desk are two women. 

"This is Roberta, my wife, and Ester, my daughter," says Peter, introducing them.  

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," says Julia, in a cordial tone. 

"I have been running this place with my husband for about 15 years," interjects the lady, displaying a bright allure. Medium-length ash-blond hair and two blue eyes make her a good-looking woman. She shows in her mid-fifties. "We are not originally from here, but from a small town on the outskirts of Milan," she continues, in a thin voice. "A few years ago, we decided to change our lives. We were working in a bank and, tired of the usual routine, we gave ourselves another chance. We invested our savings to open this small family-run business." 

"How many rooms do you have?"  

"Only ten," Roberta continued. "In fact, when you contacted us, we still had one double room and one suite available." 

"Lucky for me, then!" she exclaims, smiling. 

"Or, perhaps, it's just fate..." suggests Peter, cheerfully. 

"Do you live here?" asks Julia, looking into his eyes. 

"We live in a house a few meters from the hotel, we like to be independent and, above all, discreet with our guests."  

"However, we are always available twenty-four hours a day, even in case of need," Roberta assures. "My daughter and I take turns at the front desk from seven in the morning until midnight. For nighttime emergencies we give out our cell phone number, right Ester?" 

Ester appears petite, introverted, with a serious look, two big brown eyes and golden brown bob hair. She is twenty-eight years old, but looks younger than her age. "Mother says we should distinguish ourselves from other hotels by our helpfulness and kindness. Now, can you give me your papers so I can register you with our facility? Thank you very much," she concludes firmly, showing herself to be very professional. 

Peter takes Julia on a tour of the outdoor environment. The patio features a bar with a few round tables and a few modern-style armchairs. The center of the garden is occupied by a large oval pool with sunbeds all around. 

Further on, a flight of steps leads to the private beach. A small bay, with a crystal clear sea and a clear sky is the wonderful image before his eyes. That's all I want right now - sea, sun and relaxation! he thinks to himself. 

Having finished the tour, they take the elevator to the second floor. They find themselves in front of the room. The man leaves her the keys and politely takes his leave. Once locked in her room, Julia begins to unpack. She picks up her smartphone and sends a message to her mother to alert her of his arrival, saying that he would call her later. 

She lies down on the bed. She drops her head on the pillow and falls asleep, lulled by the cool air coming in through the ajar window. 

After resting the entire afternoon, Julia gets into the shower and gets ready for dinner. 

She wears a pair of black tight pants, a white silk shirt and pearl earrings, a gift from her maternal grandmother. She looks at herself in the mirror. She applies mascara to her thick eyelashes, a light eye shadow on her eyelids and a trickle of lip gloss. 

She grabs her bag and leaves to head for the dining room. Dim lights and a few lit candles create an intimate, relaxed atmosphere. A thoughtful waitress greets her and points to her table. She takes a seat and looks around. She notices a couple of young couples to her right, in front of her an elderly woman and, to her left, a lone man in his fifties looking thoughtful. On closer inspection, he looks foreign. His olive complexion, short somewhat graying hair and two very deep dark eyes make him an interesting person. 

Having finished her dessert, she goes out for a breath of fresh air in the garden lit with modern LED spotlights that create, all around, a relaxing effect.  

Suddenly, as she is intent on contemplating the view in front of her, she hears a call. "Good evening, Julia, how are you?" 

"Good evening, Roberta. Fine, thank you. The dinner was excellent and the restaurant very cozy. By the way-I noticed the presence of a man dining alone. Is he a foreigner, perhaps?" she asks, with a curious expression. 

"Oh, yes. He is Mr. Pablo. He is Spanish, from Barcelona. Have you seen him too, then? He is quite a handsome man -- polite, friendly, though very lonely and taciturn. He just says good morning, good evening and thank you." 

"Maybe he doesn't speak Italian." 

"No. He does know Italian. I heard him having a long conversation on the phone. He expresses himself very well. However, he seems to be hiding something--I don't know, it may be my impression--think that he arrived a week ago and plans to stay the whole month. He must be wealthy, too, moreover. Now excuse me, I have my daughter calling," he says, taking his leave in a polite manner. 

I may have been a little too curious about the man-but, 

really, is Mr. Pablo hiding something? And what is that, he wonders. 

FIVE

Julia has had a sleepless night.

She looks at the clock and realizes that it is seven o'clock in the morning. She decides to get up and, after a hearty breakfast, heads for the sea. He descends the steps to reach the white beach, which, given the hour, is deserted. To his left, he notices a rocky promontory jutting into the crystal-clear waters, while to his right he admires the spectacle of small waves, crashing on the fine sand.

The day is gorgeous. She stops to look at the clear sky. The warm rays of the sun warm her skin. The air is fresh and fragrant. She closes her eyes and lets the silence around her lull her. At that moment, alone on the beach, she feels a positive energy of lightness pass through her.

He walks along the shoreline, aimlessly, holding his flip-flops in his hand and wetting his feet with cold water. Suddenly, without realizing it, he finds himself in front of a small pier. He watches the sailboats. He approaches. On one of them, precisely on the white-turquoise one, he notices a tall, shirtless man intent on cleaning the pavement.

Suddenly, he lifts his gaze, crossing Julia's.

"Good morning!" he greets her, flashing a disarming smile. "Would you like to take a walk? I'm going out in about an hour with some hotel guests."

"No, no...thank you, I don't like boats," she replies, embarrassed.

"Too bad!" she exclaims, resuming her work.

Julia examines him very carefully, head to toe. An athletic physique, thick hazel curls, a tan that highlights his blue eyes, and a magnetic expression make him truly handsome.

"Are you a boat attendant at the Peace Oasis?" he asks, with an air of curiosity.

"Yes, ma'am! In person!" She sees the man's gaze settle on her again. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"I don't think so..." he cuts it short, then walks back into the hotel.

Climbing the stairs leading to the hotel garden, Julia bumps into Mr. Pablo, sitting in the armchair, concentrating on reading a book. She tries to approach him. "Good morning. Can I offer you a coffee?"

"No. Thank you," he replies resolutely, squaring her sternly.

"Then, have a good day."

"You too."

Wow! That was the shortest conversation of my life! That Pablo is such a loner! Who knows what he's hiding? 

After spending all morning by the pool, listening to music with earbuds, in the late afternoon, Julia decides to hit the beach. From a scenic point of view, the small bay is a beautiful and peaceful place. She approaches the sea and dips her feet into the water. The first day of vacation is almost over, she thinks.

Dinner time is approaching. Julia is in her room, in front of the open closet, intent on choosing suitable clothes. She decides to wear a long one-shoulder black tulle dress, which highlights her graceful poise. She applies makeup to her eyes with soft eye shadow and a bit of rimmel. She slips on her sandals, grabs her handbag and steps out.

As he descends the steps, he catches a glimpse of Peter talking to a man. She recognizes him immediately.

"Good evening, Julia," Pietro greets her, walking up to her. "I have no words... she is just lovely," he claims, looking stunned. "I have the pleasure of introducing you to my son, Efrem."

She opens her eyes wide, incredulous. "The boat man is your son?"

"The boat man?" asks Peter, surprised.

"Oh, excuse me. That's the nickname I gave him, after our meeting this morning."

"You already know each other, then?" he continues, curiously.

"Actually, we exchanged words at the beach," he replies, observing Efrem, who hints at a reassuring smile. "You have given two important names to your children," Julia continues, intending to strike up a conversation.

"In fact..." the man reveals, "you should know that the name Esther is of Hebrew origin, derived from the Babylonian Assyrian and means star. Ephrem is also a Hebrew name and means the one who bears fruit. My wife chose them; they were the names of her grandparents. Efrem works with us. He is thirty-two years old and has always had a strong passion for boats. In the summertime, he is in charge of excursions. He takes our guests to visit the most picturesque coves on the island. He competes, or rather, used to compete-he has won several awards. I followed him in all his trainings and competitions. He could do it, or rather...he can do it," he corrects himself.

Efrem turns his gaze toward Julia. "I suggested to the lady that we take a boat ride, but apparently she's not up to it."

"That is... I..." she justifies herself, "to tell you the truth, I'm not very familiar with the water. I don't know how to swim, and being in the middle of the sea, it's a little scary for me."

"If that's the case, no problem," Peter interjects. "My son can give you swimming lessons, he is certified and a good instructor."

"I don't know... I have already tried several times, but to no avail."

"My son is very patient," he insists.

"If you want, we can do tomorrow morning at nine in the pool," suggests Efrem.

Julia feels uncomfortable, not knowing what to do. She remains silent for a while as she assimilates his words. "All right, I can try," she replies, hesitantly.

"Perfect! See you tomorrow, then," Efrem greets her, then walks away toward the garden.

"You'll see, you won't regret it!" exclaims Peter, trying to encourage her.

SIX

"Good morning, Julia. Did you sleep well?" asks Ester, sitting behind the reception desk.

"Good morning, Ester. Oh yes, there is a silence here that soothes sleep."

"I'm glad. Listen--my brother is already at the pool for the lesson."

"The lesson? Oh no, I forgot! Now what?"

It's after nine o'clock and Julia is fifteen minutes late.  Damn! 

She hurries hurriedly to get to the pool. Efrem is already in the water doing a few freestyle strokes. She greets him politely. "Good morning! Excuse me, I just forgot..."

He pauses. He runs his hand through his wet hair. "It's no problem. If you want, there's still time. I have three quarters of an hour to spare before I go out on the boat for my usual ride."

"I think it's better to postpone it and then ... I'll confide in you that I haven't had breakfast yet and I need to eat, otherwise I can't get into gear. You know how it is."

"Yes, I understand. You're one of those people whose rhythms are a little slow in the morning. Shall we move the class to the afternoon around six o'clock?"

"Perfect!" she exclaims with satisfaction.

He gets out of the water, showing off his athletic physique, grabs his towel and walks away toward the beach.

Lying comfortably on the sunbed sunbathing and no longer able to stand the hot rays, Julia takes shelter under the umbrella. She takes her smartphone from her bag and calls her colleague, thanking him for the valuable advice.

 "Hello? Hi Marco, how are you?"

"Hi, Julia. Nice to hear from you! How are you doing there? Are you doing well?"

"Oh, yes. Everything is wonderful here!"

"Have you met Peter and his family?"

"Yes. They are very friendly and helpful people. I feel like I'm at home. Tell me, how is the work going?"

"In the normal range, I would say. I'll confide in you that I'm looking forward to my vacation."

"Have you booked somewhere yet?"

"Yes, and guess what? I'm spending a couple of weeks at the Oasis of Peace with my family and, then, we're going to the French Riviera for a few days to visit some friends."

"Craving the sea, huh?"

"Yes, I need to relax! Besides, here in Milan, it's crazy hot!"

"Listen Marco ... my editor wants to send me to London as a correspondent, for a year," he adds, with a contrite expression.

"And you, what did you tell him?"

"Nothing for the time being. Actually it didn't seem like a proposal, but an order. If I don't accept, I'm afraid there will be consequences. I confide to you that I don't feel like leaving and then to London, you know? I don't feel like being away from home that long anymore. I'm considering finding an alternative."

"Another job?"

"I like my profession, but I would like something more stationary."

He remains silent for a few moments, pondering. He suggests she contact the radio station he works for. "I know they are looking for..."

"That might be an idea. We could work together--that wouldn't hurt, colleague. Give my regards to your beautiful family."

"Enjoy your vacation, Julia. Talk to you soon."

The phone call with Marco lifted her spirits. For her, he is a true friend. He can always support her in the most complicated moments and give her good advice. Suddenly, she looks at the 'clock. It is almost time. 

As she climbs the stairs to the garden, strangely enough, she is stopped by Mr. Pablo. "Excuse me, señorita..." 

"Julia. My name is Julia."

"Oh, Julia-I must apologize for the way I behaved toward you. When you offered me coffee yesterday, I was not cordial. I'm sorry, I was a bit preoccupied and preferred to be alone," she justified herself, in perfect Italian.

"Don't worry about it. It happens to me, too, that I want to be alone with my thoughts," he argues, sketching a slight smile.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Pablo." He bows, gently takes her right hand, hinting at a kiss. "After dinner, I would like to offer you something to drink."

"Thank you-I'll gladly accept," she replies, surprised.

Julia runs toward the pool, thinking back to the conversation she just had.

Wow! Who would have thought it! Mr. Pablo turned out to be really nice and, above all, a man from another era.... he doesn't seem to be as grumpy as they paint him. 

"Good evening, Julia. I see that punctuality is not your forte," says Efrem, with his arms folded.

"Excuse me, I was stopped and.... is not true that punctuality is not my forte! I am very punctual at work!" he exclaims, knowing full well that he is lying.

"It will be as you say, however, let's not waste time now. Let's start with the muscle warm-up and, then, into the water!"

The woman takes off her cover-up and lays it on the deck chair along with her bag. She follows the directions very carefully, performing the stretching to prepare her body. He remains watching her, in silence. After about ten minutes have passed....

"Aren't we done yet?" she asks, impatiently.

"Just a couple more exercises. Anyway, you should know that this workout is important not only from a physical point of view, but also to relieve anxiety and increase concentration, and I think you need it a lot," he argues, with an amused air, before entering the water. Then, with his hand, he invites her to follow him.

"But do I touch? It's not deep, is it?" asks Julia, looking worried.

"Look... if I touch, you'll touch, too," she replies, standing up.

"Yes, but you are taller than me."

"That's true, but take a good look at where my water gets to me," he reassures her, placing his hands at chest level.

In fact, he is right. Julia tries to gather her courage. She catches her breath and enters the pool, at their disposal. She is led by the man who, with much patience, takes her to get acquainted with the water, supporting her with his strong arms and putting her in the dead man's position. She lets herself be lulled by the sound of the small waves. Her breathing becomes slower and a feeling of well-being pervades her.

After half an hour has passed, he suggests going out. "That's enough for today. I'd say that went well."

"Oh, yes. I didn't think..." she says, as she climbs the steps to the tub.

"You need to have more confidence in me and, more importantly, more confidence in yourself, Julia."

"That's true, but it's not easy. I've never had a good relationship with water, even as a child..."

"I understand, but fears can only be overcome by facing them," he encouraged her. "We can meet again, for the second lesson, the day after tomorrow at the same time. What do you think?"

"I would say yes. Thanks again," she replies, wiping her body with the terry cloth.

Before taking his leave, Efrem approaches her. "How come you chose the sea for your vacation if you are afraid of water?" he asks, curious.

"I like challenges."

SEVEN

9:30 p.m.

Julia has just finished dinner. She walks out of the dining room and into the garden. She gazes at the clear sky dotted with endless stars. A light breeze begins to blow. He feels a little chilly. He covers his shoulders with his green blazer, which matches his blue jeans. He turns his gaze and sees Mr. Pablo, sitting in the armchair, intent on typing on his smartphone. He is wearing a pair of cotton pants, a very fine blue linen shirt, and on his wrist is a gold watch of the finest make. He is, undoubtedly, a very distinguished man.

He approaches him. "Good evening, Mr. Pablo. Am I disturbing you?"

"Buenas tardes, Julia" reciprocates the greeting, standing up. "Please have a seat," he continues, pointing to the chair next to his.

The two look at each other for a moment. She breaks the silence. "Are you comfortable here, at the Oasis?"

"Very well, I would say. I arrived about ten days ago and immediately settled in. The place is quiet-what I need right now."

"I share your mood."

Before continuing the conversation, the man orders two glasses of Vermentino. The atmosphere is relaxed and laid back. Julia feels at ease. "You are not Italian, are you?" she asks, with an interested expression.

"I am from Barcelona, Spain. I was born and raised there. Have you ever been?"

"Unfortunately, no. Although, for work reasons, I am often around the world. I am a foreign correspondent for an Italian newspaper. I have worked in the United States, Paris and London. In Spain I have not had the opportunity yet. I would like to visit Barcelona, it must be very beautiful."

"Eh, yes. It's really fascinating."

After lighting a cigarette, he resumes. "You should know, Julia, that Barcelona is most famous for its art and architecture. The Sagrada Familia Basilica and all the buildings designed by Antoni Gaudi are the symbol of my city. And then, the Picasso Museum and the Jean Miró Foundation display works of art by the two famous artists. Among the most famous places is the Rambla. Have you ever heard of it?"

"Oh, yes! They say it's always filled with people."

"Indeed ... this long avenue is located between Plaça de Catalunya, the center of the modern city, and the Old Port. The street, both day and night, is always busy, and along the central sidewalk are newsstands, florists, street artists, stores, restaurants, and cafes.