Carnem Levare (4 page)

Stefano’s breath hitched.

He clutched his chest.

No more than several kilometers away stood his
blessed lover. Her attire consisted of tons of cloth, but he could
recognize her anywhere. Though she wore gold and red eye coverings,
perfect pink lips puckered. Several rings of curls fluttered over
bare shoulders, nestling on pale skin. Everyone else disappeared
from sight. Stefano wanted to drop to his knees and worship at her
feet. From this moment on, he had no intention of leaving
Anastasia’s side.

“
What do you carry,
Stefano?”

“
Enough attire to carry me
through,” he responded. Glancing to her left and right, he was
perplexed. “Should I fetch your luggage?”

Anastasia uncomfortably shifted from leg to leg, her
frock lazily swung. Stefano’s heart sank.

“
I cannot . . .” she cowardly
responded. “Such a big decision . . . not at this time.” Her head
dashed from side to side.

“
You are choosing him instead of
me?” His voice cracked.

“
No, Stefano. We will wait.” She
moved to him with only two full strides. “We can sail on the canal.
We won’t be recognized.”

Stefano stepped back, refusing to be influenced. He
felt betrayed by the one woman to whom he had given his heart. He
flung down his parcel and began pacing at the canal’s edge. There
were a series of voices passing by, minding their own affairs. He
briefly turned to see pairs of lovers, flaunting their happiness.
When he faced his own prospective lover, she drew into him,
shamefully pressing against his chest. She easily bewitched him
again. There was no more fight as they made way to a nearby
gondola.

While they sailed about the canal, the waters sang a
lovely tune of promise. Anastasia began humming aloud. It was the
first sound to come alive from either of the two. Stefano’s heart
weakened as the oar became burdensome in his hands. Nestling it
securely across the tip, he allowed the vessel to drift, with only
the mild declarations of fated love spewing from Anastasia’s
lips.

She’d removed her mask. Her expressions floated
across the space between them, the light wind from the waves
brushed fresh perfume to the sides of Stefano’s face. His eyelids
lowered. As usual, he was in a trance. The boat rocked, forming a
natural lullaby.

“
We can leave now, mio amore!”
Stefano spoke and bore deep into her eyes.

Initially, Anastasia only continued singing. She
turned away, as much as possible, considering her dress was highly
restrictive.

“
By the time they notice our
disappearance, it will be too late to stop us,” Stefano
encouraged.

And still, Anastasia pretended as if his words held
little meaning. Her own ceased, replaced by taunting hums.
Stefano’s heartbeat sped up; this time for all the wrong reasons.
He took hold of the oar once more and begun moving wildly. With
little direction and intent, the gondola spun with and against the
current.

After about five minutes of Anastasia’s insensitive
murmurs and Stefano’s own frustration, they somehow landed by the
Ponte del Diavolo. He stopped moving the wooden oar as before. His
guest finally stopped humming.

“
Stefano, I will always love you,
but we must move on—”

“
Never!” he screamed at the top of
his lungs. Waves of echoes reflected back.

His lover gasped. “Take me back . . . now, Stefano.”
Her fingers spanned across her upper arms. Though her dress’s heavy
material was restrictive, she continued to squeeze.

“
Do not be afraid, amore. Forgive
me. I only want to love you.” He paused, lowering his eyes to stare
into her face. It was difficult in the darkness, but he had
mastered the art of seeking out her sky-colored irises from any
angle. And when she didn’t respond or relax, he moved to be at her
side. But it was a fruitless attempt because they only rocked,
nearly toppling over.

Anastasia became frenzied. She began waving her arms
and twisting away from Stefano’s advances, the gondola started
rocking even more so than before. This did not deter Stefano, as he
now knelt before her, pressing down on the lower portions of her
gown, cutting off the flow of her blood.

“
You were born for me,” Stefano
pleaded. He rested his head in her lap. “You are mine.”

“
I am afraid . . .” Anastasia was
barely able to speak. Her dress constricted her circulation. She
gasped, but Stefano would not withdraw. He remained kneeling at her
lap.

As the moon evaded their surroundings and darkness
threatened their emotions, the silence was torturous. Anastasia’s
pupils reached wildly for a nearby escape, while Stefano reckoned
to remain forever. His fingers reached upward to caress her chin.
She pulled away. Her hands clasped, removing any further hope of
advancement.

“
Take me back!” she commanded. This
time her words were quick and rang through the air.

Stefano shook his head. He could not believe that
she really wanted to be taken back, returned to a life of
sacrifice. For Stefano, love meant everything . . . family meant
nothing again.

“
No . . . no . . .” He wanted her
to believe that their lives would be forever intertwined. He
resolved in his mind that tonight would be their flight. She had
promised always; he had promised forever. Tonight would begin their
always and forever.

“
Get away from me, Stefano. I want
to go home!”

As her body shook, he only clicked his tongue
against the roof of his mouth. Quick sounds that were meant to
settle his intended ran against the waves. Beyond the docks, dim
reminders of carnival’s festivities carried on the night’s air. But
the square was too far away and the participants were perhaps too
far-gone to recognize the difference between a woman’s joy and poor
Anastasia’s pleas.

“
I will scream,” she calmly
warned.

“
For what reason would you? We are
lovers.” Stefano knew that she could not possibly want to ward him
off. He only needed to reassure her that he was capable of being
her everything.

He drew closer. His chest tipped fully onto her lap.
She wiggled unsuccessfully. Her feet wailed beneath her dress.

She spat at his mask.

He removed it.

There was not a trace of anger on his face, and
certainly not in his words.

“
I love you,” Stefano announced.
His lips touched her nose, sank down to her lips and reached over
to a cheek. “I’m the only one to love you, Anastasia. I’ve sampled
your delicacies. I’ve cherished you from birth. And now, I will
make you happy for eternity.”

She shook wildly. “You’re a madman! I no longer want
this. I no longer want you. I am getting married to Anto—”

“
No!” His chest pounded again. Not
for love this time, but for anger. For whatever reason, Anastasia
was trying to upset him. He couldn’t understand why. They had come
together, practically unified as husband and wife. And now she was
speaking of another man? “No!”

“
I do love you, Stefano, but I have
accepted my fate. My future does not lie with you.” With each word,
she grew stronger. Her expression became firmer than before. Her
position turned upright. She no longer cowered away from him.
Instead, she pressed against him. “I enjoyed making love with you.
I will never forget all that we have experienced together. You must
understand, however, I am not yours—”

“
No, Anastasia. You promised me
forever.” He could not believe what she said. The woman he’d
cherished from birth was dismissing him. “This is not possible. You
said for always.”

“
I am sorry, Stefano. You will meet
another woman. You will fall in love again. You will
have—”

“
I will never love another
woman.”

“
You will. And you will treasure
her the same.”

“
I will hate all other women!” He
was now sobbing, leaning into her lap. His mumblings died at her
skirt. Life meant nothing without this woman. Pain and disdain
bubbled deep within. “I will never love again.” He raised his head
at this promise. Sparkles of light from beyond the dock reminded
him that this should be a happy time. But he simply couldn’t see it
that way.

“
I will never forget you, Stefano.
Now you must take me back.”

“
You’ll understand, Anastasia. You
love me . . . yes.” His head moved up and down. “We’ll remain
together. You will not ever regret it.”

He would never take her back. She would eventually
be thankful he’d kept her there. Reasoning could not convince
Stefano otherwise.

*****

After Stefano was thrust back into the mortal world,
he went in search of his family home. Inside he found his mother
burning candles and chanting along with her friends. The room was
otherwise dark. Five of them sat about a tiny circular table that
was covered with a black skirt. Each woman was covered in matching
mourning shades. Their fingers clung desperately at each other.
Mrs. Bonaro’s voice rose well beyond the others. The ritual halted
after twelve minutes.

“
Is he here?” one of the ladies
asked.

“
Can you feel him?” another
inquired.

“
Stefano was my son, I always sense
his presence.” Mama Bonaro was irate. Her actions were
sharp.

“
One year, my friend . . . you've
journeyed into this darkness for one year. When will you stop?” A
friend mumbled from across the table. “We know nothing of spirits
and traveling the realms, only what has been discovered this
year.”

The woman to Mrs. Bonaro’s right released her grip.
“We have called up Stefano’s spirit countless times. He has not
come to us. Perhaps he is not dead.”

“
Anastasia’s body was found wrapped
in his coat—”

“
He was never found—”

“
Let it go, please?”

“
My son is buried in the waters. I
need to know his soul is at peace.” Mrs. Bonaro’s strength was
waning. “He would never leave me. My son fell into the arms of that
harlot. He is gone because of her.”

No
! Stefano cried out.
Anastasia would
never hurt me
. I
am the murderer
!

“
I only wish that I could bring her
back to life, so that I could kill her as well,” his mother
declared. She pulled out a lock of hair, wrapped it in cloth and
allowed the parcel to singe to nothingness. “I hate the entire
Soranzo family! May their souls not rest until I see my dear son
again. I curse their lives and their generations to
come.”

Stefano paced.

He fretted.

He stomped.

Rage made him a viable threat. The angrier he
became, the more his abilities came alive. Upon feeling his
vibrations, Stefano paused. The room became silent. He started
moving once again. Nothing . . .

Mrs. Bonaro looked around, her eyes briefly settling
across the room. She stared down her co-conspirators.

“
I curse the spirit of Anastasia
Soranzo, until my son is found and his soul is at rest.”

Stefano wailed. He began tossing aside every object
that he could grasp: lamps, cups, figurines. With each step,
Stefano was able to incite fear in the inhabitants, except for his
mother. The other women cowered together, slowly backing away from
the fluttering candle.

To this madman’s dismay, Mrs. Bonaro continued on.
Each declaration she made cut through her son’s heart. She shred
and tormented, unaware of what was at stake. While the four women
stood clear across the room, his mother sat at the table with her
back facing him. Stefano lunged for her. His fingers pressed down
into her shoulders. As he sunk into the silky fabric of her dress,
he felt empowered. With little fight, Stefano managed to elevate
her. The other women raced from the room. They knocked into one
another on the way out. Mrs. Bonaro swiped at her neck, screaming
as loudly as possible. Stefano’s fingers tightened around her neck.
She dangled from his grip, swatting at her invisible tormentor. The
more she fought, the weaker she became. Life faded, overcome by
darkness.

“
Why do you make me hurt you,
Mama?” Stefano shouted. “Mama . . . Mama.” His words were swarmed
with guttural sobs. He felt her limbs weaken, and turned her around
to lift her chin.

“
Stefano?”

His finger moved.

“
Mama? Do you see me?” He withdrew
his hands. It was too easy to manipulate her body. He tried to hear
a sound or sense some type of movement.

But it was too late and she could not respond.

*****

Stefano’s mother’s death did not affect him as much
as losing Anastasia. But this was a pivotal point in his afterlife.
Killing Mrs. Bonaro made him realize that as a soul crossed over
from life to death, it was capable of connecting with immortal
beings.

When he left his home, Stefano wandered through the
town. His head hung low, the outside world had little effect on
him. With nightlife came added tourists and increased frustrations.
Stefano wanted to trample into everyone, show them all that he
existed. But they were too caught up in enjoying life.

Stefano strolled through his beautiful city. He
stood in the center of St. Mark’s Square, remembering the Ascension
Day ceremony his family had attended with Anastasia’s family.
Stefano thought back to Venezia’s marriage to the Adriatic Sea.
This not only symbolized their country’s union, to Stefano it also
solidified the union between the Bonaro and Soranzo families.