The Sea Only Shares Secrets After Midnight

The world was silent, sleeping. The ocean, however, lived more vigorously in the night. When the sun shined, the water glistened peacefully, but under the force of the moon it breathed a new life. The waves rushed upon the shore and crashed heavily against the rocks before once again pulling quickly away to the comfort of the depths.

She walked along the open streets and followed the hum of the Mediterranean. The sound of her steps sounded loud as thunder against the slumber of the earth. She passed the fishing boats and the closed cafes and shops that had been streaming with life just a few hours before until, finally, she reached the rough rock of the coastline. It was an easy climb to the bottom. There was a long, flat rock she had spied out earlier in the day. This was her place for the night. The girl arranged her pillow and blanket and spread out. The stars beamed down on her from above, and the sea beckoned her from below. The caress of the waves was the sort of dangerous touch that seemed gentle until you were caught in it, but the stars were pure, bright. Even with all their heat and intensity, they were too far away to do any real harm. This is our secret, her heart said to them in whispers inaudible to the ear.

Through the rumbling of the waves she heard a ballad playing in her memory- a melody whose origin she could not recall but whose melody she could never forget.

“É una canzone triste.” She shot upright, heart pounding, and looked around frantically.

“Eh, sono qui.” The voice said again. “Mi discpiace- Non volevo spaventarvi.” A man sat on a rock tucked away in the shadows. He looked harmless enough, lounging as he was in so relaxed a state, a glass of wine in his hand and a melancholy smile on his lips, but still she was considering packing up her things and leaving when he asked. “Ma, può parlare?”

The last word was familiar. She thought for a moment. “Non parlo Italiano.”

“Ah, you’re American,” he said, leaning forward and into the dim light of the distant street lamp.

“Yes, how’d you know?”

“The accent. You’re too heavy on your tongue and too soft on your vowels.” She looked away, her eyes falling to the sea, and then back at him. He had a soft and friendly face and a thin yet robust build. Even in the dark she could see that his true strength laid in his eyes. “Anyway,” he continued. “The last I said: I did not mean to scare you, and first I said: it is a sad song.”

“Sad?” She asked.

“Yes, heartbreaking.”

“I had thought it sounded romantic.”

He laughed. “Well yes, the heart has to be involved for it to be heartbreaking.”

“Touche.”

“I’m Gianluca. And how is your name?”

“Sienna.”

“Like the city?”

She laughed. “Yes, I suppose so.” Sienna looked out to the sea and wished again for the loneliness she shared with the crashing waves just moments ago... But that was over now. She looked back to Gianluca. He, too, was watching the sea. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

His eyes fell back to her and he smiled gently. “I can ask you the same question.”

“You could, but I asked you first.” She tucked a strand of her long brown waves behind her ear and sat still, patiently waiting for the answer.

He sighed and took another sip of his wine. “My lover has left me, so now I make my dates with the moon. She is always changing; she is always the same. That is why I find my peace with her.” He gestured as he spoke; the wine in the glass swirled with the lazy jolts of his movements.

“She is a most faithful muse. No matter where you go, she shines her light upon you.”

“Yes, until the day comes and she must to hide herself away.” He sipped his wine again. “Would you like some?”

“What kind is it? I’m not so big on wine.”

“Mama mia, no wine?”

“I didn’t say no wine; I just said it’s not my favorite.”

Gianluca sighed and shook his head. He picked up the bottle and held it into the light for a better look. “Allora. This is… Merlot. It’s actually very good.”

“Ok.”

“Ok what?”

“Ok, I’ll take some.”

“Ah. Aspetta, I’m coming to you.” He stood up, glass in hand and bottle in the other, and made his way, step by wary step, to her. “Here,” he said, handing her the bottle. “Taste.”

She obeyed. “This is very good,” she remarked, looking it over.

“Good. It is yours.”

“But-”

“No, no, prego. I drank almost all the bottle already, and my glass is full. Please.”

“Grazie,” she said with a smile. She took another drink and sat back.

“So, you really don’t know the words?”

Sienna looked up at him, her brow furrowed, a quizzical expression on her face. “What words?"

“Yes, the words to the song. Che Vuole Questa Musica. The song you were humming.”

“Oh, no. I just heard it playing some place.” Sienna was quiet for a moment. “What are the words?”

“‘Who wants this music tonight, which brings me back a little of the past?The moon wanted company. I felt you were mine, mine alone. I would like to keep you here, close to me now that between us there is nothing left. I would like to hear your words again- those words that I don't hear anymore. The world around us- It didn't exist except for the happiness that you gave me. What do I do with all of my days now if in my days, you are no longer there?’ And so on.”

“You’re right,” she said. “It is sad.”

“Hm,” He affirmed.

“What is with Italians and heartbreak anyway?”

“Well, you know, we love the romance. And without heartbreak, there is no romance, or else the romance is not real.”

“Don’t you believe in the possibility of a happy relationship?”

“Yes, I think that I do,” he replied, his gaze not lifting from the place where the waves broke against the shore. “But you know, even the most faithful lover in all the world will break our heart sometimes.”

She looked him in the eyes and he met her gaze. “Well, nobody’s perfect. We’re going to get hurt at some point. But it doesn’t mean every romance is a tragedy.”

“Life is too short for a romance not to be a tragedy.”

Sienna turned back to the sea, her eyes drinking in the salty waves, and took another sip of the wine. “Well, you have a point there.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Sienna? You never told me why you came tonight.”

“I came to the sea tonight because I couldn’t bear to be in so extraordinary a place as this and be stuck in so ordinary a place as a room. I mean, it’s a very nice room- don’t get me wrong. But I felt like, although all the world is sleeping, the earth is not. She can only really be herself when she has been left alone, after all, and so I wanted to come and see her.”

Gianluca nodded. “Ah, so we both come here for romance,” he said, taking another sip of his wine.

“No, not for romance. I came down here tonight because... in the silence there is peace and wonder. There is something magical in keeping a deserted world to yourself- sharing a secret between yourself, the earth, moon, and stars. I didn’t come for romance.”

“Ah, but there is nothing so intimate as a secret.”

She looked at him incredulously “How do you do this?”

“What?”

“Turn every word into poetry?”

He laughed wholeheartedly. “I am no poet!”

“But still! I’m being serious, Gianluca. The whole world is on fire here under the scorching Italian sun, and at night, somehow the flames grow even more grand. In America... “ she thought for a moment. “In America, I would never share a bottle of wine with a stranger in the moonlight.”

“That is their loss, but it is your fault.”

Sienna laughed. “My fault?”

“Yes. How often do you sit in the moonlight in America?”

The thought took her aback. “Well,” she began. “I- I suppose that I don’t. Honestly, I’m not sure if it would be safe, but also I have to be awake early for work and I have so many things to do every day that-”

“See- it is your fault.”

“How?”

“The moon lives in every country. Even if you have no sea, you always have her. Why shut yourself into an ordinary room when you are there if you can’t do it here? We in Italia are a little more slow and a little more hopeful. We are burned more for this, but this is because we burn hotter. In this way we are always, uh, how did you say? Burning under the Italian sun?”

They looked at each other and she smiled. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Suppose? Ah, but I am right. You said yourself.” She laughed and took another sip of wine, but he kept his eyes on her. “Sienna, you make the night not so sad- even after you hurt my heart with your sad song.”

“Now, you told me yourself it is only heartbreaking because it is romantic.”

“Eh!” He exclaimed. “You use my words against me!”

She shrugged. “So what if I did?”

“Mama mia. Do you have to win with the last word? Can’t you just take the compliment?”

“No, you’d like that too much.”

“Incredible. And after I give you my wine, too.”

“She laughed and took another sip from the bottle. “Thank you for the wine.”

“You are not welcome,” he said, forcing another laugh from her. “Eh, see. Two can play this game.”

Sienna turned and looked over him again, taking in his light-hearted expression and relaxed pose. “Tell me, Gianluca, do you finish your romances as quickly as you begin them?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, of course,” she mocked.

“But why should I keep trying to give life to something that is died? Romance can live better in a memory- if it is a good one. And if it is even more a good one, it won’t die at all. It will live longer than we do.” Sienna smiled, nodding, and stood. “Hey, to where are you going?”

“It is past four in the morning. The sun will be rising soon and I haven't slept a bit. Let us say goodnight and make our romance a memory- it will live better there anyhow.”

“Sienna, the sun is rising. You can leave once you have said good-bye to the moon.”

She sighed, fidgeting, and sat down again. “Alright. I’ll say hello to the sun, but then I will go.”

They sat in comfortable peace and occasional laughter until the sun rose and the world slowly began to awaken. It was time to say good-bye.

“Sienna,” he said as she stood to leave. She paused, blanket and bottle in hand, and looked into the eyes that she could only now see were blue as the water before her. “Let us not leave this to be a memory. Come with me to-night for dinner. I will take you to the best view and the best pasta around.”

“Gianluca,” she began with a smile. “Is that a date?”

“Was this not one?”

Sienna laughed and shook her head. “Alright. Give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.” He smiled and handed her his phone. She entered it and turned to leave.

“A domani!” He called after her.

‘No! A presto.”