O Soave Fanciulla

Allen sat in a quiet and quaint Italian bistro, enjoying the gentle classical music in the background, lifting the atmosphere. He thought about how he’d waited a month for this night—since that unexpected coffee shop encounter. Though Samantha didn’t know at the time, it was a re-encounter.

They’d hit it off. His opening line was clumsy, sure, but maybe what mattered was that he noticed her—not her blindness.

As he nervously fidgeted with the napkin and menus, waiting for Sammie to show, he replayed the last month of phone calls and messages since that first afternoon. Tonight was different. It was a date.

And Allen was nervous.

Not just because Samantha was the best thing in recent years—Samantha had been the best thing in his life, period.

#

A lot had happened since they were last in the same room—at the divorce lawyer’s office. Letting her go was the greatest mistake of his life, in a lifetime full of them. He'd told himself he needed to go off and “find himself,” or some nonsense like that.

Maybe they had rushed into things. Still, they’d been together two years before he finally proposed in 2001.

Since then, he’d changed his name—his mother’s maiden name for a last name, his uncle’s for a first—and become someone else. When he ran into her at the coffee shop, he hadn’t meant to deceive her. However, after using the name Allen for so many years, it slipped out naturally.

To be honest, he appreciated the clean slate.

"John?" she’d asked, uncertain.

His breath hitched. “No, my name’s Allen.”

“Sorry, your voice sounded like someone I used to know.”

Her words hung in the air. Then they placed their orders and got to know each other.

#

The new her was still the same Sammie he had fallen in love with two decades ago. The accident happened not long after the divorce. She’d lost her sight.

But that never defined her. She had always been a fighter—stubborn, brilliant, full of spirit. She still was.

Life had been kind to Samantha. Her gently curled blonde hair, her fair skin, her deep ocean blue eyes—still expressive, even now. She looked even better.

Her blindness had become an extension of her identity. It was not something that held her back. She was a business consultant and volunteered for a local deaf and blind charity.

During that initial meet-up and the time that passed, Allen wondered what life could have been like had he stayed with her and worked on their marriage. If the accident had happened when he was still her husband, would he have given her the support she needed?

#

All of those thoughts and more preoccupied his mind as he played with the salt and paper at his table. An old nervous habit he had developed that he carried out between frequent checks of his phone and across the room to the door. Perhaps Samantha had changed her mind and wouldn't show. Maybe she’d decided he wasn't worth her time, or worse, realised exactly who he was and decided to stand him up.

"Good evening, Ma'am," the host said, and Allen perked up—but it was someone else.

He sighed and returned to his salt-and-pepper ritual. Then, Puccini’s “O soave fanciulla” began playing—sweet, romantic, wistful—the duet from La Bohème.

"Mimì si è avvicinata ancor più alla finestra per modo che i raggi lunari la illuminano: Rodolfo, volgendosi, scorge Mimì avvolta come da un nimbo di luce, e la contempla, quasi estatico."

Suddenly, he was back there—back in time—the ice skating date that ended with Allen when Sammie fell and had to be taken to the hospital. That night and the mishap cemented their relationship. Then his mind flashed forward to Sammie in her wedding dress, aglow in the soft light of their youth. No pain. No years lost. Just two lovers with a future stretched before them.

He closed his eyes.

"Rodolfo cingendo colle braccia Mimì. Fremon nell'anima dolcezze estreme, fremon dolcezze estreme. quasi abbandonandosi Oh come dolci scendono le sue lusinghe al core..."

"Allen..."

#

Brought back to reality, Sammie stood right there in front of him. As elegant and beautiful as she had ever been.

"Samantha," was all he could manage as he leaped to his feet and pulled the chair out for her.

She touched the back of the chair and sat with quiet grace.

"Would Ma'am care for the braille menu?" asked a waiter, offering them a complimentary glass of red.

"No, Allen, would you do the honours?" she asked, smiling with that curled lip she used to give him long ago.

"Of course. We'll be fine, thank you," he smiled at the waiter. "Would you like to know the specials, Samantha?"

"Yes, please, my good man," she teased.

He read the starters, mains, and desserts. She opted for the Funghi Impanati, Penne Salsiccia, and gelato, one scoop of vanilla and one of chocolate. Allen chose the Pate Di Fegato D'Anatra, the branzino, and the mysterious dessert of the day.

"Before we start dinner, Sammie. There's something I want to say to you..."

#

"I'll stop you right there, Allen. I have something I want to ask you."

Allen laughed nervously, "Okay... that sounds ominous!"

"Is Allen your name? I'm blind, not stupid... remember?"

"I am called Allen... but," Allen/John choked on his words.

"John? It's you, isn't it?"

A strange silence followed her words, and the revelation they carried hung in the air. Allen was lost for words. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Sammie broke the tense silence.

"Why did you lie, John? Did you really think I'd never find out?" Her voice was considered, quiet, and firm, yet with the same warmth she'd always spoken with, even when they'd argued.

Allen was still speechless as Puccini's crescendo played out. All other sounds in the room tuned out, aside from his elevated heart rate and breathing.

"I didn't want to lie. When I first saw you in the coffee shop. I wanted to tell you. Wanted to say something...anything. But in that moment, I remembered what had happened, and since Allen is my real name, I thought a little lie wouldn't hurt, until I figured out what to do. Then... well, the last month happened, and I found myself falling for you all over again. "

"But, you still lied. Allen, what do you want? You left me, remember? You divorced me and walked out of our lives. Remember?"

"Of course I remember.I thought I needed space. Time. Whatever it was. Turned out, all I needed was a good punch in the jaw. By myself, preferably. In fact, for the last 25 years, I regretted what I said, how I said it, and the choice I made. I know I was wrong to lie. I... I just wanted you to see me for who I am right now. Not who I was back then, that immature asshole that broke your heart. That didn't know how good he had it until it was gone."

"I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with you lying the very first time we met, or met again. That feels like a betrayal, even if I understand your reasoning. That being said, I’d be lying if I said I hadn't enjoyed all of this. Getting to know you. I guess, too, deep in my heart, I always knew it was you, John. My John."

"Really?" he asked, surprised, as a small smile formed on his face.

"You did not do as good a job as you think. Your voice is still very much the same as I remember it, though age has lowered it somewhat. You also gave hints that told me you knew me before we met at the coffee shop."

"Even if you did a lousy job of trying to be someone else. I'm still here, aren't I?" she replied, with a gentle smile.

She then placed her hand in his and sighed contentedly.

"I am glad to hear you take responsibility for your bad decision-making. I am glad you show regret and have matured. That has been clear since we've reconnected. I didn't want to hold you back, but felt sure you had made the wrong decision. It hurt, John. It really hurt. You ripped the world we had created apart. And for what? Cold feet and a few too many arguments. We could have worked through it, and even if we hadn't, it would've been better to know we had done all we could."

"Sammie?"

"I'm not finished. Give me time, please. I thought I was completely over you; I was at peace. Had tried dating and had very few serious relationships. My career took off, and I’m settled in my life. I barely gave you a passing thought. Then... You waltz back into my life and bring upheaval. Emotional upheaval, John."

"I'm sorry."

"I said, I'm not finished, and I didn't say it was bad upheaval. Just... upheaval"

As Puccini's aria faded to nothing and “Viene la sera" from Madame Butterfly, another of Puccini's classics filled the room.

"I don't know what will come of all of this. I can't make promises. But, I would like to go on a second date."

"How about ice skating, Sammie?"

"Okay, but don't let me fall this time."

He squeezed her hand with a smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: This is my first entry for The Second First Time Challenge as part of Vocal+ Summer Writing Series. I was taken by the chance to do a bona fide (with a twist in the tale) romantic tale. Not entirely my wheelhouse, but you gotta push things, I think, in writing.

For reference:

"O soave fanciulla" ("O gentle maiden") is a romantic duet between the leads in Puccini's 1896 opera La bohème. It is sun by Rodolfo and Mimi, when they realise they have fallen for one another and closes out Act 1.

Literal translation of the first quoted lyrics, from the Italian:

"Mimì si è avvicinata ancor più alla finestra per modo che i raggi lunari la illuminano: Rodolfo, volgendosi, scorge Mimì avvolta come da un nimbo di luce, e la contempla, quasi estatico."

To English:

"At the window, Mimì is illuminated by the moon's rays. Turning, Rodolfo sees Mimì wrapped in a halo of moonlight. He contemplates her, in ecstasy."

and

The second quoted lyrics, from the Italian:

"Rodolfo cingendo colle braccia Mimì

R: Fremon nell'anima

dolcezze estreme,

fremon dolcezze estreme,

M: quasi abbandonandosi

Oh come dolci scendono

le sue lusinghe al core..."

to the English:

"Both Rodolfo putting his arms around her

R: The soul trembles

the heights of tenderness

trembling are the heights of tenderness

M: almost surrendering

How sweet his flatteries

enter my heart..."

"Viene la sera," translated, means "Evening is coming" or "Night is falling," and is the title of a famous duet from Madama Butterfly, another of Puccini's operas. There is a strong sense of anticipation and romance, and the beginning of the characters' life together. Which I thought fitting.