Ben, the Marquis & Anna Maria (Part 8, The End)

In the café, the solemn proprietor pauses to refill everyone’s glass prior to raising his and making a toast. “Ai sposi, Anna Maria e Ben!” he cries out. ‘To the bride and groom, Anna Maria and Ben!’
“Ai sposi, Anna Maria e Ben!” we all echo before knocking back our drinks.
“E il loro nipote, Robert!” he concludes. ‘And their grandson, Robert!”
“E il loro nipote, Robert!”
I smile, moved by their immediate acceptance of me.

On May 9th, 1945, one week after the war in Europe ends, the entire population of Arienzo flocks to the village church to attend Ben and Anna Maria’s wedding.
Thanks to some not so subtle looting of Allied stores by a few of Ben's troops, a huge wedding reception is enjoyed by all.  In the streets.

I am standing there in a sort of warm glow, in an atmosphere of friendship and kindness, my glass being refilled by the café proprietor, when an elderly gentleman walks into the café and apologizes for being late.
Watched by a smiling audience, he kisses me on both cheeks and waves an admonishing hand at me. “Quanti anni sono passati!” he says. ‘So many years have passed!’ Everyone nods in agreement and looks at me with kind reproach. “Perche non sei venuto prima?” the elderly gentleman continues. “Tutti questi anni.” ‘Why didn’t you come sooner? All these years.’
Puzzled, I cock my head. Yes, there is something familiar about the old boy, but… “Mi dispiace, ma…” I start. ‘I’m sorry, but….’
“Sono tuo pro-zio,” the elderly gentleman interrupts. ‘I am your great-uncle.’
My mouth drops open. “Pipotto?!”
Pipotto nods.
“But… they took you away… I always thought you were...” I stutter.
The café proprietor steps forward to tell me that he had omitted this ‘little detail’ of the story’s end, because he and everyone else felt Pipotto should be the one to tell me.
Pipotto nods and begins…

As Ben and Anna Maria kneel before the priest, a skeletal figure limps into the church, his clothes little more than rags.
The entire congregation turns to stare.
The image of suffering and deprivation, no one recognises him, not until Tecla gasps and, tears streaming down her cheeks, leaves her pew and, followed immediately by an equally stunned Mario, hurries up the aisle whispering his name again and again: “Pippotto!”
The seven of them - Mario, Tecla, Pippotto and his four sisters - stand in a teary, highly emotional embrace in the aisle for what seems an eternity.
The congregation starts to applaud, a spontaneous explosion of joy, a release from the war years of misery and grief.  So many have lost sons, brothers and husbands that Pipotto’s totally unexpected survival is a victory to them all. It is almost as though he has brought back a piece of all those who will never return. He belongs to the entire village that day. A triumph to be shared.
Happy that his only son has returned home, Mario positively beams as he gives Anna Maria away. He even gives Ben a warm embrace, which is cause for further sustained applause. However, he stops short of giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Ben and Anna Maria lead a happy congregation out into the open air, and the party begins.

My eyes brimming with tears, I step forward to embrace my grandmother’s brother.
Most of the café customers pull out handkerchiefs and blow their noses. Some even look away to allow great-uncle and great-nephew a moment of intimacy.
“Gol!” Pasquale Guida suddenly shouts as he comes out of his death-like stupor, startling us all, oblivious to the café’s emotion charged atmosphere. “Gol!”
I smile, glad the old boy is alive and still living his greatest moment. The goal he scored to give Italy her first football win against England is probably what keeps him ‘young’, and I’ll bet it’s the goal he’ll keep on scoring for as long as he lives, and beyond.
Happy, I kiss my great-uncle on both cheeks.  I’m not alone, not anymore.

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