A Year at 32 September Way (17 page)

Her voice cracked as the feelings she’d pushed aside all these weeks began to well up inside. “I may have been nothing more than a fling to you, but I cared enough to stay here with you this whole time to make sure you were okay. Your daughter took a leave of absence from her job to stay here with you. Every single person you see in this hospital has worked hard to help you recover. And now you’re going to sit there and have the nerve to tell your therapist it isn’t working?”

At this point, Eva’s voice had risen from quiet yet stern to a dull roar. The hospital staff stood still as statues, letting the young woman have her say. They knew that Marcello’s attitude
would have to change if he hoped to recover any further, and they realized that this young woman might be his only hope.

“How dare you!” Eva managed to get out before Marcello stopped her.

“What do you mean everyone told you about the man you ‘knew and loved’? You’re talking as if I’m not here anymore, but I am,” Marcello interrupted, “and as for you being nothing more than a fling…I did many things wrong, Eva, and I owe you many apologies and explanations. I hope to have a long time to make it all up to you. But let me make one thing clear, I do not view you as merely a fling or anything like that. I love you, and I want to be with you only. I’ve known this for a long time but was unable to do anything about it. I know there’s a long recovery process ahead…for me and for us. But I promise to start trying again if you’ll promise to be there with me. Nothing I could possibly accomplish in my life will be worthwhile if you’re not there to help me.”

Chapter 14

The full moon shone through the window like a spotlight on his golden, sun-kissed skin. It was 3am and Nicolette was wide awake, unable to sleep as her mind raced. She reached over and lightly ran her index finger over the indent where his hip met his waist. The gentle caress wasn’t meant as a loving gesture; she just needed something to focus her mind on so she could calm down.

Her light touch was enough to stir him awake, which wasn’t at all what she wanted. He rolled over towards her, reached up to cup her face in his hand and gently pulled her to him. “No, not again; I’m tired now,” she lied.

“Tired? You?” he responded. “Go snort another line. That’ll get you revved up.”

“Besides, my husband will be home in a few hours. You’ve got to get going,” Nicolette responded. He’d been fun to be with earlier in the night, but the novelty and her cocaine-induced high had since worn off. She lay in bed watching the Italian man with the Adonis body and thick
mane of shoulder-length hair get
dressed in the moonlight. He’d been a nice toy for the evening, but that was as far as it went. He’d want to see her again, they all did. But Nicolette had no desire for relationships.

They’d been in Verona for nearly six months, and she’d spent most of the last four alone. Josh was too busy working to spend time with her, and lately he’d been acting strange. The neighbor women were too busy being boring or stupid to make decent friends. Sure, she had her party friends and her drug friends, and now she even had her sex friends. But Nicolette had long since decided that she was done letting people in, she was done trying to make connections, because all it did was lead to hurt, disappointment and abandonment. And she was damn tired of those feelings. From now on, she would be in charge of deciding who she let into her heart. At the moment, the only person she had room for in there was herself.

***

“That’s enough about my life. Tell me how you’ve been lately,” Eva said to Carlisle as they sat in Eva’s fourth-floor apartment overlooking the neighborhood. The two friends hadn’t been able to enjoy as much time together in the past two months. But since Eva wasn’t spending as many hours at the rehabilitation center as she had at the hospital, they were finding some time to catch up.

“Well,” started Carlisle, “I’ve reached the halfway point of my novel, finally. I’m really pleased with how it’s going, and my agent is relieved to know that she’s actually going to get something out of me.” Carlisle laughed, and her friend followed suit. She’d made more progress with her work during the time she’d been in Verona than in the six years she’d lived in Seattle. And though the progress with her novel was monumental, the changes in her life were what made Carlisle feel that she was really accomplishing things.

Will and Anna would always be with her, and she would love them forever. But she’d finally been able to let go and, instead of being the reason she couldn’t move forward, they were now the reason she went on. Since reaching the point of accepting and loving and letting go all at the same time, she’d been able to make new friends, write effortlessly and embrace new possibilities and opportunities.

“And why, might I ask, are you grinning like the Cheshire
Cat
?” Eva asked, bringing Carlisle’s thoughts back to the conversation.

“Was I grinning?” she giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Yes, actually, you were. Like the Cheshire Cat,” Eva laughed along with her friend. “Now out with it!”

“Oh fine. I’ve been dying to tell you anyway,” Carlisle responded, pausing to build the suspense. “I’ve got a date Friday night!”

“A date?
Carlisle, that’s fantastic! Give me all the juicy details,” Eva gushed, grabbing Carlisle’s hands in hers.

“Oh, I feel like a schoolgirl. Can you believe it?” She went on to tell her German friend about the Italian man she’d encountered in the piazza several times.  The first time, he’d complimented her on her selection of flowers at the market. Then he’d asked her if she’d like to have a cappuccino with him. She’d chuckled and politely declined, weaving her way through the crowded market and back to her apartment.

The second time she happened upon him, Carlisle was standing in the middle of the Piazza
delle
Erbe
on a quiet Sunday morning looking up at the ancient frescoes and other painted designs that remained on some of the older buildings. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” he’d commented, and she’d smiled and agreed.

“Would you like to have a cappuccino to celebrate this sunny winter morning?” he’d asked her.

Smiling from a mixture of surprise and amusement, Carlisle responded, “But I don’t even know you!”

At that, he’d taken her hand
and kissed it gently.  “Bella
Sig
norina
, my name is Roberto. Would you like to have cappuccino with me this morning?”

Carlisle had laughed out loud. Not at the man before her or even the fact that it was the first time a man had asked her out in years. She laughed because the moment was so surreal. Here she was in Verona, Italy, gazing appreciatively at the paintings that people created hundreds of years ago in a place where Roman chariot races were held thousands of years ago, and an Italian man was standing next to her, asking her out for cappuccino.

“What?” he’d laughed. “You are a beautiful woman. I ask you out for a cappuccino.”

“You’re very kind, but not today,” she’d responded. “It was nice to meet you, Roberto.”

He’d smiled, tipped his hat to her and walked through the piazza and down the street that led to the Casa de
Giulietta
. Carlisle assumed that would be the last she’d see of him. After all, Verona was a big city, and the chances of running into a stranger a third time were probably slim. Plus, she had turned him down twice. So it was much to her surprise when the third encounter happened.

“I was sitting at a corner table at the
Filarmonico
Caffee
, sheltered beneath the large green awning,” she began to tell Eva. “I’d ordered a cappuccino and was just watching the locals go about their business on a lazy afternoon.” Carlisle went on to explain what transpired next: she was engrossed in an Italian newspaper, trying to read some of the words, when the waiter brought out her cappuccino. Initially, she didn’t even look up. She simply thanked him and kept reading.

A moment later, the man cleared his throat, and she looked up to see Roberto standing there. “Oh, it’s you! I didn’t know you worked here,” Carlisle exclaimed.

“No,
Sig
norina
, I do not work here. I saw you here and gave the waiter a tip so I could deliver your cappuccino. And now, since you already have a cappuccino, I will ask you to
come
dance with me later this week.” He smiled sweetly, and she could see he was harmless. She couldn’t bear to turn him down a third time.

“Okay. Yes, Roberto, I will go dancing with you! I’m Carlisle, by the way.” She invited him to sit down and join her with a cappuccino. They made small talk about the café, and Roberto told her that many musicians and famous opera singers came there to celebrate after performing at the arena in the summertime. He was charming and friendly, perhaps not exactly her type, but she was pleased when they parted ways with plans to meet up a few nights later for dancing.

Eva clapped her hands with joy for her friend. “I love it! Your first date in Italy! You didn’t even tell me about his Italian good looks…tell me!”

“Well”, laughed Carlisle, “he’s about my height, 5 feet 5 inches, and a little bit portly…so, he’s not exactly an Italian stallion. But he’s very friendly. It’s Italy; why not?”

The two friends laughed as they agreed. The Italians lived life to the fullest. Why shouldn’t they?

***

It was the second day in a row she hadn’t visited the rehabilitation center, and Eva felt out of place in her own apartment. Marcello had transitioned from the hospital to the rehab center easily, and the doctors suggested that some independence might help him with his recovery. Eva had urged Marcello to focus on getting better, assuring him that she would remain in Verona and that they could spend more time talking about their relationship later.

For the past two months, her life had consisted of running back and forth from the hospital. She’d spent very little time exploring Verona and had had only a handful of opportunities to spend time with her friends. One benefit of being at the hospital all the time was the opportunity to get to know Sofia and the rest of Marcello’s family better. It had been uncomfortable at first, but over time it was clear to all of them that she was far more devoted to him than Carlotta had ever been.

Eva was content to push relationship issues aside for now because the stress wasn’t good for Marcello. Her love for him was constant; she was sure of her feelings for him and felt certain he loved her. But the majority of their relationship had been built on lies and deception. If they had any hope of a future together, their relationship would have to go through a rehab and rebuilding process, just like Marcello’s body. But at that point, Eva wasn’t sure she even wanted to rebuild her relationship with Marcello.

Finding ways to keep herself busy had become a lost art over the past couple months; one that Eva would have to regain. Spending more time with Carlisle was one way to fill time, and the two women became even closer. But there would still be a lot of time to fill between socializing with friends and visiting Marcello every other day.

From her vantage point in the overstuffed chair of her sitting area, Eva glanced toward the tall bookshelf to see if a particular favorite happened to catch her eye. Instead, she remembered the hidden room behind the bookshelf she’d explored once and had long since forgotten. Maybe a more thorough exploration was just the ticket to filling time and staving off boredom.

***

The rain pitter-pattered rhythmically on the roof of the aluminum trailer that served as Josh’s quiet area for breaks or rests between filming. Normally, the tinny sound lulled him into a peaceful state, but not today. Instead it punctuated every thought running through his head, magnifying their weight. Things had been going so well the past two years, or at least he’d thought so.

He’d had his suspicions for a while; Nicolette was often out until the wee hours of the morning on nights when he got home early. They were still spending the entire weekend together, but she’d grown increasingly withdrawn and detached. And then there was the weight loss.

Josh’s wife was a beautiful woman, drop-dead gorgeous, in fact. She had the lean, toned build of a statuesque ballerina and barely had to do anything other than yoga to stay that way. But lately, he’d noticed how her clothes hung on her, rather than accentuating her beautiful body. When they’d made love four weeks ago, he was shocked to see how thin she’d become. His gasp of surprise and concerned comments had been enough to put Nicolette on the defensive, and they hadn’t been intimate since. In their few years together, no matter what happened, they always reconnected by making love. Now she refused; the connection to her, it seemed, was lost.

Snooping around and looking through her things was the last thing Josh wanted to do. “But when you live with a recovering addict, sometimes you end up doing things you’d rather not,” he’d reminded himself the day he decided to find out if his suspicions were true. With every fiber of his being, Josh hoped he was wrong. He hoped Nicolette wasn’t using drugs again. If the stress of moving to a new country was causing her to behave strangely and grow distant, he knew he could help her. He knew they could handle something like that together.
Anything to spare them from repeating the horror and heartbreak of two years ago when Nicolette went to rehab.