“Ciao, Sandro.” Elisabetta smiled, happy to see him.
“I stopped to get us a snack. Have one.” Sandro produced a paper bag from his backpack and opened its top, releasing the delicious aroma of supplì, rice croquettes with tomato sauce and mozzarella.
“Grazie!” Elisabetta picked up a supplì and took a bite. The breading was light, the tomato sauce perfectly salty, and the mozzarella hot enough to melt on her tongue.
“Where’s Marco? I brought some for him, too.”
“Off with Angela.”
“Too bad.” Sandro chewed a supplì and glanced at her newspaper. “What are you reading?”
“Nothing.” Elisabetta used to love reading the newspaper, but her favorite columnists were gone, and she suspected they had been fired. Benito Mussolini and the Fascists had been in power for fifteen years, and censorship had become the order of the day. “All the articles are the same, about how great the government is, or they reproduce ridiculous posters like this one.”
“Let me see.” Sandro wiped his hands on a napkin.
“Here.” Elisabetta showed him a picture of an Italian peasant woman in traditional dress, holding babies in each arm. She read him the caption. “‘The ideal Fascist woman is to bear children, knit, and sew, while men work or go to war.’ It’s propaganda, not news, and anyway, not all women are the same.”
“Of course they aren’t. The newspaper isn’t always right.”
“No, it’s not.” Elisabetta thought of the female advice column. Marco and Angela still weren’t back.
“Don’t let it bother you.”
“But it does.” Elisabetta disagreed with the Fascists, though she didn’t discuss it with anyone other than Sandro and Marco. Those who spoke against the government could be arrested and sent into confino, exile, far from their homes. Informers abounded in Rome, even in Trastevere, and though Elisabetta’s family wasn’t committed to any particular political party, as artists they were congenitally leftist.
“You don’t like being told what to do.”
“Who does? Do you?”
“No, but I don’t take it so much to heart as you.” Sandro leaned over. “Guess what, I have amazing news. I was accepted to an internship with Professor Levi-Civita at La Sapienza.”
“Davvero?” Elisabetta asked, astonished. “You, a high school student? At the university?”
“Yes, it will be an independent study.” Sandro beamed with pride.
“Congratulations!” Elisabetta felt delighted for him. He was a mathematical prodigy, and his preternatural talent had been plain since primary school, so she shouldn’t have been surprised that he would be at La Sapienza, the city campus of the University of Rome. “And this professor is the one you always talk about, right? Levi-Civita?”
“Yes, and I can’t wait to meet him. He’s one of the greatest mathematicians of our time. He developed tensor calculus, which Einstein used in his theory of relativity. In fact, he just got back from seeing him in America.”
“How wonderful. How did this come about, anyway? For you?”
“Professoressa Longhi recommended me, and I’ve been waiting to hear. I just stopped by the hospital to tell my mother.”
“She must be so proud.” Elisabetta admired Sandro’s mother, who was one of the few female doctors she had ever heard of, an obstetrician at Ospedale Fatebenefratelli.
“She was, but she was surprised I hadn’t told her I was being considered.”
“I am, too. Why didn’t you tell us?” Elisabetta meant her and Marco.
“I didn’t want you to know if I failed.”
“Oh, Sandro.” Elisabetta felt a rush of affection for him. “You never fail, and Levi-Civita is lucky to have you. You’ll be a famous mathematician someday.”
Sandro grinned. “And you’ll be a famous journalist.”
“Ha!” Elisabetta didn’t know what Marco would become, but dismissed the thought.
“How can you read in the sunlight?” Sandro squinted at her newspaper. “It’s so bright.”
“It is, I know.”
“Allow me.” Sandro slid the newspaper page from her hand and stood up.
“No, give me that back.” Elisabetta rose, reaching, but Sandro turned away, doing something with the newspaper.
“It’s only the obituaries.”
“I like the obituaries.” Elisabetta always read the obituaries, as each one was a wonderful life story, except for the endings.