It was close to five in the afternoon when Beatrice finally got dressed up for her meeting with Graziella. She decided it was time to straighten things out between them. She took the tram because she did not want to drive under the influence on her way back.
When she was close to the bar, she stopped and looked through the window of the little bookstore she loved. Since the shop was open, Beatrice went in. She approached the saleswoman, "Do you have a book on the Spanish martyrs?" The saleswoman typed something into the computer in front of her, got up, went to one of the bookshelves, and pulled out a book.
"I have a book by Cecil Roth called The History of the Marranos. The first edition came out in 1932, and the one I have is from two years ago.
"Please wrap it for me," she said.
She paid for the book, put it in her handbag, and went out into the street towards the bar. Before entering the bar, she peeped through the window and made sure Graziella had already arrived.
"Sweetie, how I missed you," Graziella said as she got up and hugged her warmly.
"I hope you are not angry with me anymore."
Beatrice sat down and smiled at her. "How can I be angry with you? You opened up a whole new world for me. You made me know myself, who I am, what I am, and who my ancestors were. Although you did not do it on purpose, and I am aware of that, everything turned out for the best.
Graziella sat with her mouth wide open "We haven't even taken anything yet, and already you are drunk?"
"I'm drunk with excitement, my darling, with great excitement."
"Honestly, I'm excited to see you too because I thought you were still mad at me."
"Do not flatter yourself. I'm not excited to see you, I love you, but that's not the point. Order two glasses of Rosso di Montepulciano, and we'll start talking."
After tapping their glasses and sipped some wine, Beatrice began.
"Just like that, I found out I was Jewish. Although I was baptized into Christianity and educated as a Catholic, it was out of ignorance, and perhaps out of my grandfather's desire to forget their past."
Graziella stopped her with hand gestures as a strong cough attacked her.
"Do you want to kill me? Why are you talking such nonsense to me?"
Beatrice smiled slightly and said, "I knew that would be your reaction. I did not think otherwise. Do you want me to continue? Or shall we talk about screwing around? "
"No, go on, I just almost choked."
"I went to visit Aunt Clara, my father's sister in Livorno, and in the basement of the house where my father grew up, there was a box that contained photos and letters, and among them, I found my father's birth certificate. It turns out that his father, my grandfather, was Jewish. I have yet to investigate my mother's origins, but I am nearly certain her family was originally from the Spanish martyrs."
'Who are the martyrs of Spain? I know you have a lot of knowledge in history, but you know me, I'm more interested in screwing around.
"I know, an ignoramus like you needs an explanation, so I will explain it to you."
Graziella finished her glass of wine and motioned to the waiter to refill her glass.
"Speak," she said.
"The Spanish martyrs were Jews who hid their Judaism and converted to Christianity so that they would not be murdered. When they were expelled from Spain by the king's order, some came to Italy."
"Interesting. That being so, I was not wrong when I said you have a Jewish nose," Graziella said and burst out laughing.
"Shut up, you primitive one. Do you think that by the structure of the nose, one can identify one's origins?"
"Are you offended by me again?"
"No, not at all; I'm glad you brought up the subject since that helped me become interested in my ancestry."
"Wait, so what now? What will you do?"
"Now, my dear friend Graziella, you can be proud of having a Jewish friend."
"And is that supposed to change anything in our friendship?"
"On my part, no, depending on how you feel about it?"
"What do I care? To me, you are Beatrice. You will see that in the end, it will come to nothing."