DEAR EUGENIO 1
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"DEAR EUGENIO" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
DEAR EUGENIO
by Andrej Koymasky © 2018
written on April 30th 1991
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Paul
ONE
29 July 1990
Dear Eugenio,
As you see, I have finally made up my mind to put pen to paper. It is time, I have been thinking about this for a long time. So, now I have begun. You have already heard about several of the topics you will find in these pages, in dribs and drabs, in the four years we have known each other. It is right that your attitude, attentiveness and greed for information has prompted me to write in a more orderly and detailed manner, in a most complete way, about the things you most like to hear about. Receive this as a present with a wish for great happiness in your future life.
So, where shall I begin? I am not a writer, as you know. Therefore, you will sympathise when I point out that this is not easy for me. Starting with my great grandfather, allow me to give you a brief insight into our family.
His name was Carlo Faletti, the Duke of San Salva. He was the field orderly of the King, and he fathered five children. His firstborn was my grandfather, Aimone. He was born in 1887, if I remember correctly. In 1923, he married Elisabetta La Tour, Countess of Magliano. Elisabetta was the first lady-in-waiting of the Queen and, practically, her personal secretary. They had three children; Carlo, the first born, who died at the tender age of seventeen from meningitis. Then came Francesco, my father, who in 1950 married my mother, Aurelia Valignano di Torralba. And lastly, aunt Mergherita, who married the count Federico Rata di Montello.
My father had four children: Stefania who married Aimaro Lanza of the marquis Forastiero. Massimiliano, that is me. Aimone, who died so very young at three from a viral infection. And finally, Laura my little sister.
So, this is, more or less, a small piece of the family tree of our family.
My father died when I was six. Three years later, my mother married again. As an immediate consequence of this marriage, I was sent to live with my grandmother, while Stefania and Laura remained with my mother and her new husband. From the age of nine, therefore, I was raised by my grandmother, Liza. She was an exceptional woman. You didn't know her, and that's a real pity. You may remember, you saw her portrait at the castle and at home. But you had to know her! She was tall, lean, and age didn't bend her a single millimetre, until her death, that is. She was a beautiful woman. I mean, really beautiful. She was elegant. She had a natural elegance that showed not only her way of dressing, but also in the smallest gesture - in her walk, in her manner when speaking. That refined, and yet absolutely simple elegance, not affected, not mincing, that seemed more an inborn quality than something acquired. And she was regally majestic. From her emanated an inborn sense of authority, which was spontaneously recognized by everybody.
You know very well how much ridiculous it seems to me, after more than forty years of a Republic, any claim of nobility (the titled one, I mean). Yet, my grandmother was noble, the very personification of nobility. You know, that nobility which is above all in soul, heart and mind. Her glances could make you feel most uncomfortable and nail down whomever she didn't approve of. I saw people blush and hop from one foot to the other in her presence, like a little boy caught at fault, a Senate President, a Supreme Court judge and several other VIPs. And yet her eyes could be so warm, affectionate and welcoming at the point of conquering you completely.
After two paragraphs, you would be right in thinking that I idolised her, because I loved her. But you can ask Edoardo or anyone who knew her well, if what I have written about her is objective or not, and to what extent.
Well! I have written at length about my grandmother, who brought me up. She was more a mother to me than my real mother, and a father, too! I remember when I was seven and a guest in her castle. One evening, after putting me to bed and kissing me good night I, perhaps yet half asleep, whispered to her 'Night, mummy.' She looked at me and frowned. Then with half a smile: 'Your mother is Aurelia. Just her! I am your grandmother, there is no escape, my little one. And now, sleep well.'
The fact is that my real mother never put me to bed, tucked in the blankets or gave me a good night kiss - she left all to the governess. My grandmother, in contrast, spent lot of her time with me. She was always attentive to my problems, and took them seriously. She never treated me with the same condescension most adults often have towards children. She filled me with a warmth, with an affection and a respect that I'm afraid very few children have. Unhappily you, and also Edoardo, know something about that, so you should be able to understand what I mean.
Anyway, I started to call her 'mémé', French for grandmother, because it sounds more similar to 'mummy', which is what I really wanted to call her. Later, I progressed to calling her 'grandma Liza' and then, in the final years, just 'Liza'.
At times, when I deserved it, she was very hard with me. My God, wasn't it terrible then! But, the punishment finished, she reverted to being the most sweet and lovable person in this world.
My mother wanted me to study at the Carlo Alberto Boarding School of Moncalieri (it was the school of aristocracy), but my grandma decided I had to attend the normal public schools like any other 'normal' boy. Even if, besides the school, she had me tutored by private teachers at her mansion to refine my preparation.
Grandma and I lived almost all the year round in her mansion in Consolata Street. But as soon as we could, and if weather was at least fairly good, we went to the castle. The Mansion was a large building of the 1600s, but only the noble floor was still used by grandma. The other floors were let to other people. Nevertheless, only we could use the main gate and the elegantly wide stairway. Seen from the outside, it was one of many mansions in Consolata Street. Inside it was splendid. It was full of history, not like a museum though, it was living history. Portraits of ancestors, mementos of deeds, wars, journeys... I remember well as each detail fascinated me - made me curious, especially when grandma illustrated their individual history's to me.
The castle, even if it was a building of the 16th century, with parts gradually more recent until the 19th century, was in a certain way, more modern and functional. But thanks to its stairways and towers and halls, passages (not secret) and staggered floors, to me it was a place full of fascination and mystery. This was in addition to the wide park that surrounded three sides of the castle, and the big oak tree in the centre of a clearing at the rear. My great grand father Carlo, as you know planted that oak, by sheer chance, on the same day as my grandma Liza's birth. A coincidence because he didn't even know she existed and therefore could not even fancy, on that day, that she would have become his daughter in law. When Liza, as she married my grandfather, discovered that lucky coincidence, she became very fond of the tree that 'grew up' with her - the 'two oaks' of San Salva. That little tree planted by great grandfather Carlo is now a powerful centenary tree. You know how much I love that tree - in it there is Grandma Liza's soul, and to me it is sacred.
One of the qualities I always appreciated so much about my grandma, is the extreme respect she had for my privacy. Not only did she never open or read my mail, nor rummage among my belongings, but also she always knocked before entering my room, even when I was a child. She always waited to hear my 'come in!' before entering. If she ever needed anything from my room, she always asked permission. It was always I who would fetch it and hand it to her, and, afterwards, put it back in its place.
"Your room is your kingdom, Massimiliano, as mine is my kingdom." she used to say.
Even if I was absent for long periods, never would my grandma set foot in my room. Only the service staff could enter in my absence but just to do the cleaning or change the linen. They could only clean and put in order my closets, shelves and drawers in my presence. On that my grandma was really strict.
The staff living in the Mansion was composed of three couples. Gina, the cook, and her husband Roberto, the butler; Carla, the waitress and her husband Filippo, the waiter; Felicia, the waitress, and her husband Stefano, driver-attendant-servant. These six people were always in attendance at the mansion or at the castle. In the castle, moreover, lived Marco, the gardener and guardian, with his wife Clelia, the waitress and their son Guido, the stable-boy; then there was Franco, the head stable-boy and coachman, with his wife Nene, the governess, and her son Paolo, help-gardener and Cesare, help stable-boy.
At the castle we had a number of horses, and two beautiful ancient coaches, always used by grandma to travel in the countryside (if she could I bet she would have used them even in town). One was closed, a two-horse draught which was very sober and elegant, and the other open, a fast and light gig.
On the south side of the castle, there were the farmers' houses. Once they were dependants of the castle and worked the vast lands that belonged to it. Now, instead, each of them is the owner of the land, which he works for himself. It was grandma, just after the war that decided to sell to each farmer the piece of land he had always worked on. She sold each lot at a lower price than their real value, and at times waited even for years for the payments. I remember when grandma used to arrive at the castle. The first thing she did was to go on a tour in her gig, to greet the farmers. And all of them, even just five years ago greeted and welcomed her with a hearty and festive air, a mix of respect and affection that always impressed me. She greeted everybody using their names. Not only did she remember, in an overwhelming way, all the names of each member of the families, but also the names of their cows! She even went as far as to ask news of one farmers son, who was in the army, and of their just married daughter. Then there was the ill father-in-law, the pregnant cow and the instalments for the new tractor, the health of the plants and the harvest... and all that in their own dialect; all that with a knowledge and an attention that always fascinated me.
Even the younger ones, born after the war when their parents were no more dependants of the castle, were glad to stop and pass time with her. Even now, if I pass one of those houses, I am welcomed with an affection that is an echo of that attributed to my grandma and that which, I had occasion to notice, they don't have for any other member of our family.
I believe that my grandma was truly the last Chatelaine of Piedmont. When she arrived at a farmyard, the first to see her would shout excitedly: "The duchess, the duchess!" And everyone would swarm out of their houses and festively, surround and greet her, often bowing (not in a servile way but more spontaneously). Even children and adolescents learned from the time when they were babes in arm, to love and to welcome her. And this continued even years after the master-servant relationship had ceased to be. Now, as I told you, the same respectful greetings are accorded to me. As soon as I arrive, a shout of "The lil' of the duchess is here!" Fills the air.
That's right, they call me 'the lil' of the duchess, even now and I'm thirty-nine!
Now, my dear Eugenio, the time has come for me to tell you a little about myself, about my life. It was necessary that I introduced my grandma Liza into the scene, because she had such a determining role in my life. You cannot imagine how much you made me happy when, after one year you were living with us, you showed to your friends a picture of grandma Liza. Do you remember? You said with utmost pride: 'and that is my great grandma Elisabetta!'
But let's get back to me.
Up to my father's death, my life had been rather grey. I didn't feel bad, I didn't feel good. I was most certainly a spoiled boy, but missed affection. I remember very little of that period, and not just because I was a little boy, but because, in a certain way, I wanted to erase those memories. My father dead, all continued as before, for a while. I have to confess, even if with some embarrassment, I didn't feel his loss. I was almost nine and attending the third year of the primary at the Carlo Alberto Boarding School, when I received the new that my mother was about to marry again, to the count Farinetti.
I remember those days very well. Grandma came to our home, to see my mother. I overheard all they said - I was hiding behind the heavy curtain separating the green lounge from the library.
Grandma, coming straight to the point, and without ceremonies, directed my mother "You will marry the Farinetti. I think you are right, you are young and there is no sense in living memories. However, Massimiliano is a Faletti of San Salva. He cannot grow up amidst the Farinettis. Therefore he will come to live with me."
"But, maman, he is my son!"
"On that there is no doubt, but he is a San Salva. The girls, if you wish, can stay with you, or I will take care of them, too. It may be as you like, but Massimiliano is the heir, so he has to grow in his own mansion and castle."
"So, you want to take him away from me?"
"No. I just want him to grow in his own house, simply, and not in a foreign home. You will not miss him. You can see him any time you choose, he remains your son. But he will come to live with me, in his home." She commanded.
"But this is his home, maman." My mother pleaded.
"It was! With that Farinetti here, it shall be no more. As he will come to live here, this will no more be a Faletti home, but a Farinetti home, it seems clear. Mine is not to criticise, my dear daughter in law. I understand that the man who will soon be your husband, being the youngest of the Farinetti's, cannot take you to the Farinetti mansion. It is logical he comes to live here. So, this mansion will became yours, I have decided to register it in your names as a wedding present. I will just take away a few memories strictly connected with the San Salva family."
"Are you proposing an exchange? This mansion for Massimiliano?"
"Don't be so silly! Nobody swaps a son with four walls!"
The hardness in my grandmas' voice pierced me like a sharp blade and I think it had the same effect on my mother. After this, there was a long silence.
Then grandma Liza, with a voice just a bit more gentle, went on "Don't be foolish, girl. Nobody wants to deny you your son, I have told you clearly. But my decision has been made in the best interests of Massimiliano and the Falletti family. Tomorrow I'll come to fetch him. Be sure to have him ready for four p.m." she ordered.
"But Maman, I have not yet given my assent..."
"Well, give it!" Grandma demanded.
"For a mother..."
"Literature! Don't force me to become impolite, too much frank."
"What do you mean?"
"That all considered you have spent more time in Turin's elegant salons than with your son. There, I said it. I didn't want to, but you forced me. I'm not denying you your salons, or your son. Anyway, keeping him at that Boarding School, you only manage to see him just once a week. At my home, if you really care, you can see him even more often."
"You are... very hard, maman."
"Do you think so, Aurelia? Then you have never seen me when I really want to be so. I have nothing against you, believe me. The only thing I care about right now is the future of our Massimiliano."
"I don't know if he..."
"Call him. We will ask him in person."
"But..."
"Call him. It's only right to consider his opinion, too, isn't it?"
My heart in my mouth, I slipped away and ran to my room. To live with grandma Elisabetta? Why not! I loved my grandma. That is not to say that I didn't love my mother, but for grandma I felt something special. And the castle! To me it had always been a joy to be able to go there. Moreover, that man Farinetti in our home. He was not unlikable, but a stranger who would become my stepfather. What a hideous thought! The very idea of little Farinettis being brought into the world... I would have no hesitation in saying yes to grandma, for sure. But I had to do it in the right way. A short while later, there was a knock at my door.
Natalia, the governess, peeped in: "Master, you are summoned to the green lounge by madam your mother and madam the duchess."
"Grandmother?" I enquired in an indifferent tone, "Very well, I'm coming."
I looked into the full-length the mirror, set a lock of my hair and adjusted my collar. Then, I quickly surveyed the rest of my being and pulled up one of my socks that had slipped down inside my shoe. Strange, but I remember all these details, but I can see them almost like in a movie. These, and other small details, remained strangely impressed in my memory for years.
I turned my back on the mirror and faced my governess, "Am I presentable, Natalia?"
"Certainly, master, you are lovable. Come now, it is not good to keep madams waiting."
I followed her out of my room to the lounge where my mother and grandma were waiting. Natalia knocked and opened the door. "Master Massimiliano" she said as she opened the door widely.
I entered and bowed to both my mother and grandma, in turn and in that order.
Coming straight to the point as always, grandmother proceeded tell me why they wanted to see me.
I listened and pretended to think over their proposal, then I quietly replied, feeling really an adult: "If maman has nothing against it, I would be really most happy to go and live with grandmother."
My heart beat like a mad.
My mother gave me a rather surprised look, which turned to serious as she turned her glance towards grandma. Grandma appeared completely imperturbable (I mean, she didn't show any sign of victory or particular joy).
My mother gave a deep sigh and returned her gaze on me, "Well, Massimiliano, from tomorrow you will go to live with grandmother Elisabetta, as this makes you...happy." The last word was rather sharp and I could tell that she was not amused at my apparent rejection of her in favour on my grandmother. She sighed again in a retained manner (one which I was not able to interpret). A stone silence filled the air, rather unnerving, really!
Then I asked, in a respectful tone: "May... may I go to prepare my belongings?"
"Certainly, Massimiliano, you may go." my mother didn't look at me.
I turned to face grandmother. "I beg your pardon, grandmother Elisabetta. What can I bring with me?" I enquired.
"All you want, my dear. All that it is yours and is important to you, of course."
"And... and Gastone?" I asked.
"Gastone? Ah, your dog. If it is important for you, I will get used to its presence. Certainly, also Gastone."
"Thank you grandmother. May I go now, maman?"
My mother gave me an assented nod.
"See you tomorrow, grandmother Elisabetta."
"See you tomorrow, dear. Tomorrow."
I went back to my room, walking straight and stiff. As soon as I had entered and closed the door behind me, I embraced all my plush animals and threw them into air in exultation, then I rolled on my bed happily laughing, like a mad boy.
The next day, at precisely 4pm, I moved to the Consolata Street Mansion, to grandma Liza's place.
For the first days I was somewhat reserved, possibly even a little hesitant. I behaved with much demeanour and courtliness, as had always been my habit. But as time went by and little by little, I began to relax. I noticed that there was a different atmosphere than in my home. My behaviour gradually became more spontaneous. The first difference I became aware of, was that all the house staff were always smiling. At mum's house, only Natalia smiled... and that wasn't often. Everyone and everything was so formal. Grandma's house was so very different.
I remember one day, I had been living with my grandma for about one month, I said, "Filippo, go and get me Gastone's bowl."
"Yes, master, immediately." Filippo, as always, answered with a smile.
Grandma made light gesture with her hand to Filippo and he stopped. Then, turning her attention towards me, she said: "Massimiliano, apologize to Filippo."
I looked at her rather puzzled, I didn't understand why I had to apologize to him
"Yes, mémé, but... may I know the reason for my apology?"
She replied in a polite, but very firm tone, "Filippo is an adult man, and not your games mate. He is here to work. He is our waiter and not our slave. Therefore you will address him with less confidence and ask him things with courtesy and respect. Please try again, Massimiliano?"
I nodded and bowed my head slightly. Feeling rather ashamed, I turned to face Filippo, who now was looking at me with an almost tender smile, and said: "I apologize, I didn't intend to be lacking in respect towards you. Would you please bring me Gastone's bowl... that is, if you don't have more important deeds?"
"Willingly, Master."
"Thank you Filippo... but no, good heavens! I can go, I have nothing to do. I apologize again, Filippo, I was behaving silly." I said and ran to fetch the bowl.
When I returned and as I was passing the lounge to take the bowl on the balcony, I caught sight of grandma, and she of me. She beckoned me towards her, "Very well, Massimiliano. I see that you are beginning to understand, and that makes me really proud of you. If we are not able to respect others and their work, we ourselves do not deserve any in return, you see?"
"Yes, I understand. Am I forgiven, mémé?"
"Forgiven? Of course not! A fault is to be forgiven, not a mistake. You did nothing to ask forgiveness for. But you are excused, yes, certainly you are."
Grandma was very careful with words and their real meaning. She was careful about everything, to tell you the truth.
I moved to grandma's place at the end of May. By the end of June we were at the castle. I was so happy. During my first days at the Mansion, I saw maman twice per week. That was in stark contrast to the period which we spent at the Castle, that is to mid September, when I only saw her three times. I didn't miss her though, to be honest. The only person I missed was my youngest sister Laura, and that was only a little. This was possibly because she was the youngest, and I always felt a special affection towards her, much more than with my elder sister Stefania. Even today, I get on very well with Laura and have more contact with her. About my contact with Laura, there is something I want to tell you... but it happened several years after, so I'll write about that later.
In September, grandma enrolled me at the State Elementary School, which was near our mansion. There, I attended the fourth and fifth year. How different it was from the Carlo Alberto, all another world. Here, besides the classes being mixed, the boys were more... real. Let me explain. At the Carlo Alberto, during those times, almost all the boarding students were of noble families, and the few who weren't, came from the crème de la crème of the high Piedmontese middle classes. Especially the latter, always acted as if they were lords themselves. There was something false, or at least artificial about us. Starting with the teachers. Yes, they certainly taught us the good behaviour and manners, but it was sheer and simple formality and ceremony. Now Grandma, when she taught me good manners, she always explained me the whys and the wherefores. You know, the reasons, the meanings. All that grandma taught to me, had a basic norm - respect towards others, united in sincerity and honesty.
At the beginning, I had the impression that public school children were not conversant in the ways of following the good manners. But grandma showed me that there is an etiquette to be followed, a different way to show respect, perhaps but there was. She explained to me that each milieu has its own conventions and that a mature and civilized person, even remaining always himself is able to adapt to the thousand different ways of behaviour in the thousand different forms of milieu he may need to attend to.
"Behave in a simple way with simple people, in an elegant way with the elegant people, in a reserved way with the reserved people, in a frank way with frank people. You see, Massimiliano, if you can say to one of your close friends, 'shut up, don't say silly things!' but to a magistrate, for example it would be enough if you say 'really? Do you think so?' to convey exactly the same meaning and with the same stress. For each his own language, it is just a question of courtesy and respect. It would be wrong to exchange the two ways of expressing oneself. So, to a magistrate you can say: 'your speech was perfect, sir' but to your friend you will say rather: 'you were great, pal, you spoke well!' On occasions such as these it would be quite unsuitable to exchange the two expressions, even if their meaning is exactly the same."
This is just a small example to show you what I mean. And it is not to act, at least no more than speaking French in France or English in England.
But let's get to us. At times, I'm aware, I tend to digress. It is that my memories are so many, and all overlap and no one seems less important than the others. No one seems good to discard.
After completing primary school, I entered the San Secondo middle school. Always a public school and a good one. I remember we had a very likeable Latin teacher, and a caretaker lady who, to pass her time, read the railways' "Pozzo timetables". She probably fancied greatly travelling up and down Italy, who knows?
Anyway, my teachers were able to do something that unhappily few teachers were able to do. They taught me to love culture, and not just superficially, factual knowledge, you see, in all the subjects, in all the disciplines. Thanks to that, but also thanks to the tutors that taught me at home, I was rather good at school and got more than good results. Not excellent, but good. I was never 'first in the class', thanks to grandma! In fact, I remember one day when I went back home with full marks from the maths test.
Proudly, I showed it to grandma, with a comment: "I am the only one who got full marks!"
Grandma, smiled and answered: "Ah really? And then?"
"I am the best!"
"If this is true, it means that you have one more responsibility, Massimiliano. You have to help your companions who are weak to get a pass."
"But, mémé... aren't you glad I am the best?"
"I don't care. I am very happy, really, if you are good in what you do. Whether you are the first, or the second, or the fourth, or the tenth... is absolutely irrelevant to me. The fact that you do your best is enough. That is the most important thing. But it is also important that, if you are good, you should know you have a responsibility to help those who are not as good. You have the chance to gain intelligence, to have good teachers, to live in an agreeable ambience. But all that is just luck of birth, not merit. You will gain merit by applying yourself and, I hope, in helping others. Merit is to be appreciated, not luck."
"Yes, mémé, I understand, you are right. But... are you happy with me?"
"Certainly, my darling, more than happy!"
Do not think, my dear Eugenio, that my life was all studies and speeches with my grandma. I also played, like all children, I dreamed and amused myself. I went on excursions with my schoolmates, to the parish youth club. I had several friends.
About my friends, I have to tell you about Alberto. He was my classmate. He was repeating the year, so he was yet fourteen. Alberto was not so good in French, so I offered to help him. I often went to his home to help him with his French lessons and to explain what I did understand and he didn't. So we became friends, more with him than with the others, I mean. He was the son of a copyreader of the newspaper "Gazzetta del Popolo". He lived in a rather fine house. With him, at times, I went to the parish youth club to play. We were in the third year of middle school. During the Easter Holidays, the parish organised a camping trip for the boys between 13 and 15 years. Alberto asked me if I wanted to go with him.
"I have a two-man tent and I would like to share it with you more than anyone else. Will you come? We will have a lot of fun. Don Sergio will be there, just like last year. It will be great!"
"But do we really have to prepare our own food, on an open fire?" I asked.
"Sure, we'll do everything by ourselves." He replied excitedly.
"Just like the old times explorers?"
"Yes, sure. And then, there is a little stream with a fall where we can shower. And in the evenings we all sing around a bonfire and play games and perform sketches. Some of them are really funny! It's really great! You'll love every minute. Will you come?"
"I'd like to ... But first I have to ask grandma. I hope she will agree." I said half-heartedly.
"Well, I'll keep you a place. But you have to give me an answer before Saturday, ok?"
Grandma, contrary to what I feared, didn't raise objections. It would be the first time we didn't spend our vacations together. She sent me with Stefano to buy a mess-tin, boots, a sleeping bag, a rucksack. Everything I would need for camping.
So, I left with Alberto, and all the other boys, in a bus hired by the parish.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2
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