Silence Is Golden (19 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

After almost another full day of traveling, we finally arrive back in Bren. Aris drops me at my house and then goes to his house to change, saying he’ll come back for dinner.

“What about Dora?” I ask.

He shakes his head and doesn’t reply. I’m too tired to coax answers from him.

“I’ll stop by Benedetto’s and grab something for us to eat,” he says before restarting the truck engine.

I nod and watch him drive off, exhausted by my swirling emotions. The attorney’s words keep running through my head: “Her father passed away a week ago . . . Her father passed away a week ago . . . Her father . . .” I don’t know what happened to him, and I don’t care. The fact that he’s dead just means one less problem for me. At least I no longer have to worry about him tracking me down.

Is that really all there was to our relationship? I think back on my childhood, and everything I remember features my mother and me. My father and brothers remain always in the background. Which makes sense. We’ve never been a complete family after all. We may have lived under the same roof, but we self-segregated into two opposing sides as much as possible. We’d even eat meals separately. My mother and I would eat before the men so that we could serve them when they came home. After they ate, they’d watch television while we washed the dishes and cleaned up. Day after day, we’d repeat this course of events. On Sundays, my father and brothers would go hunting, and my mother and I would go to church. After I grew up, though, I never wanted to go with her, so eventually she resigned to attending services alone. Meanwhile, I would walk for miles through the city, exploring, never talking to anyone, and always careful to return home before my father did. I spent seven years without ever leaving the house except on Sundays and those few mornings a week when my mother and I went grocery shopping. Now that I think about it, I can’t figure out where I got the courage to set out on my own and make a fresh start for myself somewhere new. Perhaps I’d been subconsciously prepping myself for years and I was just now ready. Or maybe I just finally realized I had nothing to lose.

Aris returns with one of Linda’s vegetable quiches. As he places it on the table, I realize how hungry I am. We don’t speak, and though that’s not unusual for us, tonight’s silence is different. It’s a silence that comes from being afraid to talk about something, a silence that fosters tension and discomfort. Today was one of the most intensely emotional days of my life, and I can’t wait to go to bed and blanket all those emotions with a good night of sleep. We clean up after eating, but instead of settling down to read or draw like we usually do, we both get ready for bed. It feels strange to be near Aris without touching him, or without smiling, but what happened on the hospital roof really upset me. It’s as if I saw a different side of him there. As I undress in front of him, I feel a little shy. I slip between the covers, shivering, while Aris slowly removes his clothes. He’s so engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice me studying him. Since we’ve been together, he’s put on a few pounds, but he’s still so thin that I want to drag him back into the kitchen and make him eat more.

I think about Dora, and about everything Aris told me. Maybe it’s not like I thought, and maybe she really does love him as a mother would. She basically acted as his mother all these years. But the way she follows him with her eyes just doesn’t match up. It’s the gaze of a woman, not a mother. Aris now notices my eyes on him, and he smiles. He climbs into bed but stays on his side without touching me. He knows that what happened on the roof still lingers between us, and that there are no easy ways around it. He’s developed an acute sensitivity to others during his twenty-three years of silence, which almost makes me nervous around him. I’ve learned to think before I speak to him, but now I’m learning to think before I make a gesture, or even smile. In spite of what happened at the hospital, I suddenly scoot over and press my body against his, eliminating at least the physical distance that has developed between us. I can feel my eyelids growing heavy with sleep, but right now, I have another, more pressing need.

As the days pass, we regain some tranquility. The nightmare of the trial is behind us, and the subtle tension between Aris and me has improved. Yet I still have questions about the issues left unsaid. I’ll be wondering about them for a long time. After all, who among us is not ashamed of something we’ve done? I’m not afraid of what he’ll say. He’ll tell me when he has enough faith in my feelings for him.

The weather feels a little warmer this morning. There’s a hint of spring in the air, and the snow has almost completely melted. I greet Benedetto when I arrive for work. He’s smiling and full of energy; his kindness never ceases to amaze me. Just before lunchtime, he asks me to run an errand. When I get back to the café, I find Dora and Teresa huddled over a table near the counter. I slip into the back room, saying I have sandwiches to prepare. When I can’t think of any more valid excuses to stay hidden, I venture out, hoping that they’ve left in the meantime. No such luck. The place is starting to fill up, and I’m stationed behind the counter, taking orders. Suddenly, Dora’s voice rises above the quiet din.

“He came back at seven in the evening, but only briefly. Then he headed right back out the door.” Dora’s back is to me, but Teresa is facing me, and she gives me a dirty look. “He pretty much just spends his time at her house and at the wood shop. I never see him.” Teresa says something I can’t quite make out, and Dora turns to face me. I’m frozen in terror as she stands and approaches the counter. I look to Benedetto for help, but he’s busy serving customers. I’ll have to handle this myself.

“You!” Dora explodes at me. “I’ve already told you to get lost! Don’t you realize what you’re doing to him?”

I don’t respond. I keep my head down, hoping that other customers can’t hear her accusations.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him. I don’t even recognize him! He’s rude, he treats me poorly, and it’s all your fault! And after everything I’ve done for him!”

I stay silent, and this infuriates her even more. Thankfully Benedetto has noticed what’s happening, and he’s staring her down, perhaps in hopes of shutting her up.

“You’re a whore, that’s what you are!” she cries, completely losing it. That awful word hovers in the air, rendering me speechless. Everyone else is likewise stunned. Benedetto shatters the silence.

“Don’t you dare insult my employee, Dora!” he shouts, coming out from behind the counter. “Leave my café at once!”

“Believe you me, I won’t set foot in here as long as she’s here!” she yells, pointing at me—as if anyone could possibly doubt who she was referring to.

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time, because she’s staying,” he says, planting himself in front of me protectively.

“You’re a fool, Benedetto Costa. She’s done a number on you too.”

For a minute, I think he’s going to slap her. His face reddens, but he quickly gets himself under control.

“Get out of here, Dora! You can be sure that the only thing that’s keeping me from teaching you the lesson you deserve is my friendship with your late husband!” he yells, pointing at the door. Teresa finally intervenes, and she drags a fuming Dora out of the café. I take refuge in the back room and collapse in a corner in tears.

Later, I’m sitting with Benedetto at one of the tables. The café is closed for the afternoon. There are tea and cookies sitting untouched before us.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures me. “Everyone knows what Dora’s like, and how jealous she gets of anyone who comes near Aris. No one takes her seriously.”

I shake my head, discouraged.

“She’s insane. I’m getting scared to walk through the village. I’m afraid that she’s going to start stalking me, knife in hand, trying to kill me.”

“Now, now, don’t go overboard.”

“Didn’t you see her, Benedetto? She completely lost it. Would you have stayed quiet if you were me?”

“Aris is going to hear what happened, if he hasn’t already, and he’ll put her in her place.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. It’s a vicious cycle. If Aris blames her, she’ll just hate me even more. It’ll never end.”

Benedetto doesn’t respond. I can tell he understands how serious the situation has become and that pretending otherwise is pointless.

“Why don’t you marry him, Emilia? I’m sure he’s willing. That’d shut up Dora and all the other town gossips.”

“How can I marry Aris without risking being killed by his stepmother?” I exclaim incredulously.

“Well, you love him, he loves you . . . I can’t help but wonder if perhaps he’s already asked you to marry him?”

I tell him the truth. “I’m never getting married, Benedetto.”

“Why not, my stubborn little Abruzzan?” he asks seriously.

If there’s one person I can completely trust in this town, it’s Benedetto. I tell him all about my parents and what marriage ultimately meant for my mother.

“Aris is nothing like your father,” he replies. “He’s the nicest guy in the world, and you know it.”

“The truth is that I still don’t know very much about him. When we’re together, I trust him blindly and don’t need my questions answered. But when we’re apart, my questions weigh heavily on my mind.”

“Well, I know quite a bit about him. I may even know him better than anyone else. What is it you want to know?”

I’m tempted to ask him all my questions, but I can’t. I shake my head.

“Thanks, Benedetto, but I can’t do it that way. There are some things I need to hear from him.”

“You’re right. But have you tried simply asking him?” he replies, smiling.

“Aris does things in his own time. I can’t force him to tell me anything, and I won’t.”

“Sometimes I think that you kids make everything so complicated. He loves you and he’d do anything to keep you in his life. Why do you need him to use a bunch of words to spell out his whole story?”

“That bunch of words is a gift. He’s kept them bottled up inside him for so long. I don’t want to steal them from him. I want him to give them to me.”

“He will.”

“I know he will. I’m sure of it. But I still can’t marry him.”

“He’ll never recover from hearing that, Emilia,” he exclaims, exasperated.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

I return home to find another bunch of flowers propped against my door. I take them inside and read the note tucked inside the bouquet:

“The bitch is crazy. Be careful. Love, E.”

Well, now I feel better.

The hours pass, but there’s still no sign of Aris. Could something have happened between Dora and him? I briefly consider going to the wood shop, but I decide against it. If Dora sees me, I might make the situation worse. Nope, I’ve just got to wait. I sit down at my kitchen table even though I’m not very hungry and manage to eat some dinner. I curl up on the chair with a book, but I’m too worried about Aris to read. He doesn’t have a cell phone, and I don’t know his home phone number. At one in the morning, I get dressed to go look for him. But then I sit right back down and try to reason with myself. We don’t really live together. Just because he’s been spending every night here doesn’t mean he can’t still spend some nights at his own house if he wants. But why would he? He never does. And why tonight, after that scene in the café between Dora and me? His awful stepmother hates me and is up to no good. Shouldn’t he have come here to apologize on her behalf? Or at least to see how I’m doing? My concern slowly fades to anger, and I start pacing to calm myself down. As soon as I stop, nausea hits. I run to the bathroom and vomit in the sink. Where the hell is he?

At three in the morning, I finally put on my shoes and coat in a fit of anguish and throw open the door. I’ve decided to go to Aris’s house. But he’s standing on my doorstep, and he looks awful, with his hollow face and agitated expression. My anger vanishes instantly. It’s my fault he’s in this state. Maybe Dora wasn’t completely wrong. I don’t say anything; I simply take him by the hand and pull him inside, closing the door behind us. I lead him into the bedroom, as I did that first time. It seems so long ago now. I slowly take off my clothes, one item at a time. He watches me silently. I can’t read his expression. All those hours of waiting and anxiety have left me completely drained. We slip into bed. After turning off the bedside lamp, I cling to his body, which seems leaner than ever. I can feel his chest shudder in the dark. He’s crying.

“Aris, hey . . . What’s wrong?”

I move to turn the light on, but he stops me. So I hold him while he starts to sob. The only other time I’ve seen him cry was when we made love for the first time, but those were tears of joy. He finally calms down. The moon isn’t out tonight, so the room is completely dark. His breathing becomes regular again, and I assume he’s fallen asleep. But he startles me by speaking.

“I’m tired, Emi. I can’t leave her, but I can’t take it anymore. Tonight I realized I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to shut her up and make her disappear. There are no words to describe how mortified I am by what she did to you today.”