Cory Holt

The last Saturday in November, Gianni woke shortly after seven o'clock – not an unusual time, even though he did not have to work at the bank that day. Following a meager breakfast, Gianni dressed and put on his overcoat for a walk to the market.
The day was cool, but nevertheless sunny. It was a rather typical day for that time of year. Some of the shops were starting to open. He wondered how many of the shops managed stay afloat, given that commerce had been curtailed so dramatically, especially since the occupation.
On a normal Saturday, he would have taken a caffe latte or hot chocolate, perhaps with a pastry, in his favorite bar in Piazza Navona. He then would have walked the periphery of that great square two or three times for exercise, but also to browse through the wares the vendors would have set up that morning. Perhaps he would have bought flowers for the kitchen, but one had to arrive quite early to find the freshest flowers.
He would have likely seen a friend or two wandering across the square, and this would have given him occasion to fraternize. He might have taken a bus to Villa Borghese to walk among the shade trees there, or he might have gone to the market, as he was doing now, but with less intensity and determination.
Today, there would be no frills or fraternizing. He was quite serious, and far more stern with vendors than he would have been under different circumstances. Gianni had become suspicious of others, and endeavored to acquire as much food as possible without stirring suspicion of himself. He never wanted to appear to be feeding more than one person, so Gianni limited his purchases at each market trip, preferring instead to visit the market more frequently and buy in smaller amounts, rather than buy in bulk.
He bought some pasta and a little oil in one shop. At the butcher shop, he purchased a whole chicken and a small portion of bacon. At the bakery, he bought some bread, but not too much. His greatest thrill had come when visiting a produce stand. Most of the vegetables had been picked over, but he did find two artichokes worth selecting. Although fruit was mostly out of season, he did find exactly four oranges, and he watched as the fruit vendor wrapped each one carefully in paper before placing them with even greater care into a paper bag. Gianni paid his money and walked home, grateful that he had found fresh oranges for the Levis. Had be been buying only for himself, he would never have paid as much as he did, but treats for the Levis were rare, and he knew they would enjoy the oranges.
Walking back to his tenement, Gianni debated whether to serve a large lunch, or a large dinner. Impatience was usually not a quality he exhibited, but he was so anxious to present the oranges to the Levis that he decided he would serve a small lunch, easily prepared, then bring down the oranges afterward.
After re-entering the tenement, he removed his overcoat, then carried the goods into the kitchen. He would save the pasta and chicken for dinner. The bacon would go with that. He would serve the bread for lunch. There was some cheese left from his visit to a different, more distance market three days prior, and he would add this to the lunch menu.
After a few chores, and some time spent reading, Gianni began the short lunch preparation. He heated a skillet with some oil and garlic, and fried the artichokes until they were tender. He set some aside for himself, with the bread and cheese, then carefully portioned the rest into fourths to be carried downstairs. He delivered lunch to the Levi=s shortly after one o'clock.
After allowing them about fifteen minutes, he carried the paper bag with the oranges downstairs. The Levi=s assumed he had come merely for the dishes. He had, of course, but he first knelt beside them, and removed one of the oranges, unwrapped it, and handed it to Anna. The sight and scent of that first orange brought instant smiles. The second orange went to Giovanni, the third to Renata, the last to Giancarlo.
Renata had received what appeared to be the largest of the oranges, but only slightly. She tried to exchange with Giovanni, but he, Anna, and Giancarlo insisted she keep the largest orange, and Gianni carried the dishes upstairs, pleased that he had brought some measure of joy to the Levis that day.
That evening, long after the sun had set, Gianni began to prepare the dinner. It would be a larger dinner than usual. He cut the chicken into eight pieces, and began to fry it in the skillet. He chopped the bacon and added it, then some garlic, rosemary, and pepper. He then finished assembling the dish with some canned tomatoes and a little wine, then relaxed as the aroma began to fill the tenement. About thirty minutes later, after the mixture in the skillet had coalesced, he began to boil some water for the pasta. He added some oil to the water so the pasta wouldn't stick, then added the pasta once the water had started to boil.
Once the chicken had cooked to his satisfaction, he drained the pasta and portioned it. He then took two of the smaller pieces of chicken for himself, two pieces each for Anna and Giovanni, and the two breasts for Giancarlo and Renata. He then divided the sauce among the five portions, and served the meal to the Levis.
Afterwards, when he had come to collect the empty plates and wish the Levis a pleasant night, Giancarlo spoke for the family.
"Gianni, that was a wonderful dinner. Thank you. Even my wife is impressed with your cooking. But Gianni, thank you most especially for the oranges. We smelled the oranges all afternoon. Thank you for bringing us the oranges."