A Year at 32 September Way (19 page)

“Oh no, that bad?”
Eva responded.

“Yes, I’m afraid it was that bad.” The two friends laughed. Eva often lamented that her relationship with Marcello had been in limbo for months, and she didn’t know if they were coming or going. Eventually she would try to lighten up the conversation a bit by asking Carlisle about her latest date, which almost always had the two in stitches.

“Thank goodness I’ve got a sense of humor,” added Carlisle, “or I’d be crying right now instead of laughing!” Her Valentine’s week date with the persistent Roberto had been a
terrific flop. After two bottles of wine, he started making amorous overtures toward Carlisle, who really wasn’t interested. Eventually, he flopped back in his seat and fell into a wine-induced sleep. Carlisle quietly pushed her chair away from the table and tiptoed away, leaving the restaurant just in time to hear a loud snore escape his gaping mouth.

But she’d come to the realization that she was ready to have someone in her life so, even after date number one flopped, she’d decided to get back in the saddle. She had two more dates in the weeks immediately following her first date disaster. Her Italian language tutor politely offered to fix Carlisle up with the older gentleman who lived above her apartment. She assured Carlisle he wasn’t too much older, and that probably should have been the first warning. Thankfully, the polite gentleman had all his teeth, but he was still old enough to be her father. They shared a cappuccino together before Carlisle feigned tiredness and politely excused herself so she could scurry home to the peacefulness of her own apartment and recover from yet another failed date.

Date number three was equally unsatisfactory. Carlisle considered taking a short break from the dating scene until the owner of her favorite café sat down at the table one morning to chat for a few minutes. In his bold, Italian way, he cut right to the chase: “You’ve had some bad dates, but I know the right man for you.”

Carlisle enjoyed making small talk with Franco but wasn’t sure he was qualified to find the “right man” for her. She masked her suspicions as much as possible and replied, “Oh, you do, do you? And who would that be, Franco?” She smiled and let out a small laugh. Maybe he was just toying with her, teasing her about the horrible but funny date stories she’d regaled him with.

“Yes, I know the man. I have known him for several months now. He is American, like you. There is only one problem.” Franco frowned.

“Only
one
problem?” laughed Carlisle. “Well, this might actually be an improvement!”

“
Sig
norina
Carlisle, I’m trying to help you find love in the City of Love,” admonished the café owner.

“I’m so sorry,” she responded apologetically. “Please go on; I won’t laugh anymore, I promise.”

“He is a very nice man. American, like I said. The only problem is that his relationship ended not long ago. Maybe, for now, he would be better as a friend. He needs time to be ready to love again. But I know when two people belong together; I can see it in an instant, even if they are not together yet. And I believe you should at least meet him. With your track record, you have nothing to lose.”

Talk about blunt; Carlisle laughed at the café owner’s frankness. “I suppose I don’t, do I?” She thought about it a second and was just about to tell him that maybe they should wait a month or two so the man had more time, when Franco interrupted her thoughts.

“He is here every Sunday morning at 9 o’clock. I will arrange a meeting for you. All you have to do is be here.”

***

“Non
Aprire
,” the boxes said—Do Not Open. Eva wondered what made the contents of the dust-covered wooden crates and boxes so top-secret. Not one to be dissuaded by a few little words, she leaned against the entryway to the hidden room and allowed her mind to wander, conjuring up all kinds of possibilities for the boxes’ contents. She intended to find out what was in them, that much was sure.

During a visit with Marcello one evening, she’d accidentally let it slip that she’d discovered the hidden room and ventured into it. He’d been none too pleased, telling her that it contained the overflow of items needing to be stored by Carlotta’s family’s business. “The room is private, Eva,” he scolded. “You don’t need to go in there.”

She continued to be patient with him, knowing that his recovery efforts were tremendous and exhausting. But sometimes he spoke to her as if she were a child, rather than his girlfriend. Because he was still recovering from the gunshot wound that left him paralyzed below the waist, Eva felt it wasn’t right to talk about their relationship or how she felt. Instead, she confided in Carlisle. She told her how they met, how charming Marcello was and how difficult he could be. Eva recounted the times he’d disappointed her and made her cry, and the times he’d made her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

After she scolded him about not making an effort at physical therapy, Marcello realized he was at a pivotal point and, ultimately, had chosen to do whatever was needed to regain as much mobility as he could. As Eva stood by him through the ups and downs of rehab, they made an unspoken agreement to put discussions of their relationship on hold. Two months had come and gone since then, and she was beginning to feel the loneliness and melancholy that sets in when a relationship become stale and starts withering away. Eva had made plans to talk to Marcello about the two of them taking a break, when he called her one spring morning and asked her to come to the rehabilitation center.

When Eva arrived, Marcello was waiting for her in the courtyard. They exchanged the customary Italian kiss on both cheeks, and he asked her how she was. For a few minutes he listened intently and held her hand as she told him about an evening out with Carlisle and a day spent exploring
Malcesine
, an old medieval town along the northern side of Lake Garda. He couldn’t help but think of a time last year when they would have made such a trip together.

“My darling, the doctors want to talk to me about my long-term prognosis today, and I wanted you to be here with me,” Marcello explained.

“Oh, I see,” Eva responded. “You know I’m happy to be here for you.” And she meant it, regardless of what happened with their relationship.

“Eva, you’ve been there for me throughout this entire ordeal, and I haven’t deserved any of it,” he began. “I was dishonest with you. I behaved like a scoundrel and was never deserving of your love or attention. You deserve the best, and I didn’t give it to you.”

Eva began to respond, and Marcello put his hand up to stop her. “Don’t make excuses in my defense, please. I don’t deserve that, either. I cannot ask you to forgive me, because I believe it’s too much to ask. But I want to explain some things to you before the doctor comes…some things I wanted to tell you before I was injured and never had the chance to say.”

From his wheelchair, Marcello looked a few years older than he had just a few months earlier. The accident and his ongoing recovery had aged him, but Eva could see that the spark was beginning to return to his eyes. He may have looked different on the outside, but the parts of Marcello she’d always loved were still in there, and she enjoyed the moments when she could catch a glimpse of them again.

He pulled her forward and kissed her sweetly on the lips, the way he always had before. Then he cleared his throat as if to stifle the emotion that was welling up in his chest. “I’m not good at telling you my feelings, but I’m going to try. And you mustn’t interrupt me, or I might be too afraid to start again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Eva responded warily.

“The things I want to say are good things, and I wanted to tell you months ago; I just never got the chance. Months before the incident, I knew my marriage to Carlotta was over. And I knew my heart belonged to you. It took me a while to realize because sometimes I’m too darn stubborn for my own good, but once I realized you were the one who gives meaning to my life, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life making
your
life meaningful, too. I planned to start working on that in the
new year
. I knew Carlotta’s family would react badly to the idea of a divorce, but I was willing to face the consequences. I was miserable in my marriage; miserable working in that business, and the only ray of sunshine in my life was the time I spent with you.” Marcello’s voice trailed off, and he looked off into the distance.

“Your words mean a lot to me, Marcello,” Eva began, “they really do. But I wasn’t interrupting earlier to make excuses for your behavior. I was interrupting to tell you that I’m not sure I want this anymore.”

“Want what?” Marcello asked as his brow furrowed with worry.

“I’m not sure I want to be in this relationship anymore,” Eva clarified.

He grabbed her hands and pulled her closer to him, “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I didn’t know it at first, but I’ve known it now for months. When I came out of the coma, your face was the first thing I envisioned in my mind, and I was so happy to see you there. You mean the world to me, Eva, and I want to spend my life with you. Please don’t do this now. If I could get down on my knees, I would beg you to give me one more chance. I know I don’t deserve it, but please consider.”

“Sig
nor Benedetto,” the nurse called to him, interrupting the conversation, “the doctor is ready to see you now.”

***

“Birds
are
chirping and the
mornings are growing warmer
,” Josh thought as he opened one eye and glanced toward the window, “spring is finally here.” He rolled away from the window and opened both eyes long enough to make out the time on the bedside clock. It was 9 o’clock and normally he’d be awake, showered and having coffee. Verona was just beginning to catch up with the spring that had started a few weeks earlier in Siena. Window flower boxes brimmed with geraniums in shades of red and pink, and the bougainvillea vines were creeping their way back up the sides of the buildings, sprouting lush green leaves along the way. Within a few months, they’d burst into a display of purple flowers, half-covering the buildings.

Spring had always been Josh’s favorite season…it always felt like the season of rebirth to him. Even after he relocated to California, where the distinction between seasons was practically nonexistent, he still looked forward to spotting the first signs of spring. But this year was different; what a shame. After all, he was halfway around the world, living in a country he’d always wanted to see, working in the business he loved, waking up in a classic,
old
Italian apartment building to the sun shining on his face. But recent challenges cast
a pallor
over all the spring wonders of Italy. 

The confrontation he and Nicolette had the day he found her cocaine and birth control pills had been ugly. In the midst of defending herself with more lies, she’d defiantly admitted that he hadn’t been the only man she’d been with in Verona. Her admission was the final piece in a trifecta of destruction. She threatened to leave, and, for the first time, Josh didn’t stop her. “You can stay here in the apartment and I’ll leave. I can stay in Siena,” he’d offered.

“No, I don’t need your pity or your charity,” she countered while hastily packing a suitcase. “I have plenty of places to go. I have friends here, you know.” As Nicolette walked out the door, Josh realized she was strung out on coke even in that moment. She must have gone to buy more while she was out running errands.

“My god, does the hurt ever end?” he said out loud to no one in particular.

Several weeks had passed since then, and Josh was learning to settle into his own routine. He didn’t miss the nonsense, the lies or the drug-induced behavior, but he did miss the Nicolette he’d fallen in love with…the woman who’d been so full of life, carefree, flirty and fun. Looking back, it was clear she’d never completely come back to him after going to rehab in Northern California. Coming to Verona had been the catalyst that woke the sleeping giant of drug addiction. If it hadn’t been the move to Verona, it would have been something else, eventually. Josh knew it was true, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He’d had a friend from work help him make arrangements with a trusted local man to keep tabs on Nicolette those first few weeks so he could be sure she had a place to stay, money for food and anything else she needed, except for drugs. For a while, Josh held out hope that they
might be able to reconcile one day, if she decided to get clean. But then, one Friday evening, shortly after he arrived back from Siena, Nicolette showed up at the apartment.

“I’ve decided to go home to California,” she said, after they exchanged awkward greetings. “I only came to Italy for you, and now there’s no reason for me to stay.”

Her words cut like a knife, and Josh flinched visibly at the sound of them. “
Nic
, if you’d just consider getting clean, I know we would have a chance to work things out.”

“Josh,” she began, the strain in her voice matching the fatigue in her eyes, “I’m tired of trying to make a life here. I want to go home. I want to go back to Los Angeles because the last time I was happy was when I lived there.”

Her words only twisted the knife, and Josh looked down at the floor, needing a momentary escape. He breathed in quietly and mustered up the courage to admit the inevitable: it was over. Their relationship had been over before they came to Verona and probably before the move to Napa Valley. The life he dreamed of building with Nicolette was a life she had no desire to live.