Silence Is Golden (26 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

The taxi drops us at my front door, and Aris tells me to go on ahead.

“I have to run to the store to get something. I’ll be back soon.”

He kisses me on the nose and walks away. With great effort, I climb the stairs. Once inside, I pull out my cell phone and call Emma.

“Emilia! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. I feel like I’m going to explode instead of giving birth, but I’m okay.”

“Oh, shush.” She laughs.

“Guess what?” I pause. “Aris is here.”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe he found you!”

“Yeah, he came into the bookstore yesterday afternoon. He saw me and just dropped to his knees in front of me. My coworkers will be talking about that for months.”

“Damn, he must have looked in every bookstore in Milan. He left almost a month ago. I didn’t know if I should tell you since I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But I’m glad he didn’t ask me where you were. To be honest, I don’t know if I would have been able to keep quiet. I’m growing fond of him. He adores you.”

“I figured he hadn’t asked you about me. He was way too shocked when he saw I was pregnant.”

“I bet! He only told Benedetto about his trip the night before he was leaving.” She pauses, then asks, “Have you forgiven him?”

“I love him” is the only thing I can say.

“I know, my dear. What good is talk of forgiveness anyway? He didn’t mean to hurt you. And he did quite a lot of damage to himself besides. You know, Benedetto and Linda practically saved his life. He was starting to starve. Then he left town a couple of days after he was released from the hospital. I think that experience must have really rattled him.”

“That’s what he told me.”

“What did he say about the baby?”

“That I have to decide if I want him to stick around. That he would leave us alone if I wanted him to.”

“That sounds like Aris, from everything you’ve told me about him. So what did you say?”

“That I want him to be with us. Now and forever.”

“You’re a wise girl, Emilia. Often pride is just a fancy word for stupidity.” She pauses. “What will you do now?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is that I don’t want him to leave me again. Anyway, I’ll keep you up to date. Give Giorgia a hug for me.”

“She’ll be so happy to hear you’re back together. She’s your relationship’s biggest fan.”

I laugh and hang up after I’ve said good-bye. It’s wonderful to have a friend.

When Aris returns from his errand, I make us lunch. He watches me eat, ensuring that I eat every bite of food on my plate.

“If I keep eating like this, I’m going to turn into a whale.”

“You’re eating for two.”

“I don’t want him to get any bigger. I’m already having nightmares about how I’m going to get this baby out of me.”

He laughs, and I throw breadcrumbs at him.

Later this afternoon, I’m lying in bed. I’m not tired. I’m just waiting for my back pain to subside. Carrying a child is the toughest job around, if you ask me. Aris comes in and lies down next to me. It amazes me that even though most of the time I’m sore, breathless, and feel like a balloon about to pop, I still really want him. He takes my hand, and when I look into his eyes, I can tell that he feels the same way. I wonder how that’s possible. Finding me attractive right now can only be the result of love, a notoriously irrational sentiment. But once the baby is born, won’t all his attention be transferred to him? I catch myself feeling like the baby’s imminent arrival is unfair. I haven’t had nearly enough time alone with Aris. We’ve had so many problems and obstacles to overcome, and now that it’s smooth sailing for us, I have to share him with a child. With thoughts like these, I can already tell that I’m going to make a
great
mother.

“What are you thinking?” asks Aris. “You went dark there.”

“I was wondering if you’ll still be so sensitive to my moods once all your attention is focused on your son,” I say, immediately regretting how I phrased that.

“He’s not
my
son, he’s
our
son,” he calmly corrects me. “Are you jealous of him?” he asks with a smile.

I do not smile, however. “I’m allowed to be, aren’t I? First I had to share you with Dora, and now I’ll have to share you with a baby.” There, I say it.

He takes his hands from me, then sits up and leans against the headboard.

“What do you mean share me with Dora? Just because I had dinner with her most nights?”

I press my lips together. I can’t respond. I can’t cross that line.

“Emi?”

I raise my head to look at him.

“You have to tell me what you mean. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, not now, and not ever. I can tell there’s something bothering you. I want to know what it is. Please.”

I sit up. I know that sooner or later this will have to be said. I take a deep breath, or at least as deep a breath as I can when my unborn child is squashing my lungs. I hate being pregnant.

“Before you decided to leave Bren, before I forced you to talk to me that last day, I ran into Teresa,” I tell him. “She accosted me, saying that I was responsible for Dora’s death. That didn’t really bother me, at least not until . . .” I pause, wondering if I’m about to make the worst mistake of my life. But I continue. “Until she said that before I came into the picture, you and Dora were really happy. That you were ‘hers.’”

My words are met with total silence. I don’t have the courage to look at him.

“You heard Dora say that too,” he responds after what feels like forever. “She said she was in love with me. It still makes me sick to think about it. But that’s not what you mean, right?”

“I didn’t mean anything. I’m just repeating what Teresa said.”

“But you believed her. You believed that Dora and I were . . . together . . . ,” he says, disgust dripping from every word.

“No, I didn’t. But she seemed so convinced . . .”

Aris jumps up from the bed, panting. He leans against the wall, staring at me. His eyes have gotten steely again. Oh, shit. What did I do?

“Emilia . . . you believed what a lunatic said? With all that you know about me?”

“I didn’t know anything about you!” I blurt out. “You’ve always been such a mystery to me. You left me without any explanation. You grieved for her death.”

“I felt guilty, that’s all. I was grieving for that.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“You just were. You’re the only person in the world that I’ve ever let in. How could you not know?”

“I did know. I didn’t want to believe her. I really didn’t,” I whisper.

“But you believed her to the point where you had to ask,” he replies, and I know he’s right.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I murmur.

He’s standing right in front of me, arms at his sides, fists clenched. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are closed. I climb out of bed and reach for him. I say his name, and his eyes pop open, but he walks into the other room. A minute later, I hear the front door close.

I
t’s dark now, but I don’t bother turning on the light. I’m sitting on the couch with my eyes trained on the front door. Aris didn’t take anything with him when he went out, not even a backpack. I think my tears have all dried up, because I can’t even manage to cry. I’m stunned. How could I say that to him? How could I risk losing him again? How could I possibly believe that Teresa was telling the truth? Aris has every reason to leave. I’ve always known that he loves me with all his heart, that there was no room for anyone else but me. And somehow I came to believe that he could have . . . No, I can’t even think about it. That image would be so horrible and so unfair to him. I hurt him, myself, and our love. If he’s left me again, and this time it ends up being for good, I will only have myself to blame.

Aris returns later tonight. I slide off the couch and onto my knees in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . . ,” I repeat over and over again. He lifts me and helps me sit back down on the couch. He hugs me, and I shake so much that the baby starts to kick.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper in his ear. “You were right. You were so right. But I was so mad at you. I felt so alone. I never believed Teresa, I promise, but I needed a reason to hate you for leaving me.”

“I know,” he says, taking my face in his hands. “I know. That’s why I walked out earlier, so I could calm down and think. I understand now.”

“I thought that you’d left me again,” I say, choking back tears.

“Shh . . . Don’t cry,” he murmurs, wiping away my tears. “Please don’t cry.”

“I love you, Aris,” I say, tripping over my words. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. More than myself. I love you even more than this child.”

“I know. I’ve always known.”

His calmness ends up rubbing off on me, and I speak.

“When I saw you in the bookstore yesterday, a part of me was overjoyed, but another part of me just felt cold. I don’t want to dwell on the details, because I know how much it’ll hurt you to hear them, but these past few months have been really hard for me. When I came to Milan, I was pregnant, alone, and I had just lost everything important to me.”

Aris is hanging on my every word.

“A part of me wanted to hurt you, so you’d know how it felt. I knew that telling you what Teresa said would do that. And I need you to know something else. I don’t know if I can love this baby. I don’t want any secrets between us either, so you should know that I don’t have even the least bit of maternal instinct. I hate how he’s taken over my body, and I hate thinking about how he’ll always come between us. I don’t want to share you with anyone else. If I could go back in time and prevent this pregnancy, I would.”

He doesn’t say anything, he simply gazes at me lovingly, despite the awful things I’m saying.

“I just didn’t do anything about it once I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t keep it because I wanted it. It didn’t bring me joy to know that your child was inside me. I prayed that it would be a girl and that it wouldn’t look anything like you. I wished that it would have brown or green eyes. Anything but blue. I was so filled with hate that I hated this baby too, just because it was yours.”

I’m out of breath after ridding myself of all my rotten feelings.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” Aris asks.

I nod. “I don’t know if I’m over all my anger, and I don’t know if it will bubble up again someday,” I tell him. “I can’t promise you that won’t happen.”

“Don’t make any such promises. Everything you’ve just told me is worth more than any promise. You trusted me with all these feelings you’re so worried about.”

“But aren’t they terrible? I just said that I don’t love my son!”

Aris sighs, kisses me, and folds me into his arms.

“It’s not a son yet. It’s just some bulky weight that makes you feel terrible. Some back pain, some breathlessness, some swollen ankles,” he says softly. “This pregnancy will end soon. You’ll go back to the way you were. But right now, you’re still so beautiful to me. When our son is born, and you look at him for the first time, you’ll realize that you love him more than you ever thought possible.”

“That’s not true. I’ll never love him more than I love you.”

“I guess I wouldn’t mind that.” He laughs. “You asked me a question a little while ago that I now want to answer. You asked me if after the baby is born, I’ll still be so sensitive to your moods, or if he’ll command all my attention.”

“I did ask you that, but I was just trying to provoke you.”

“I want to give you an answer all the same. My mother wrote something in one of her letters that I’ve learned by heart. She said that when I was born, she viewed me as an intruder, someone who got in the way of her plans, and that’s why she left me with my father. But then as time went by, she missed me, and she realized that ‘a child is a symbol of your love. Thus children are a piece of your soul, and you cannot be jealous of your own soul.’”

I sit up slightly so I can see him better.

“I want this baby to have your eyes,” I say.

“I would rather he have yours.”

“And I want to call him Daniel.”

“You seem to want a lot of things. But I just want one thing, and that’s you.”

Together we wait for the baby to come. We spend our days eating, sleeping, talking, making love (and laughing like crazy while doing so, as my stomach makes this almost impossible). We talk like never before. Aris cooks, cleans the house, and goes grocery shopping. He sketches the neighborhood cats and me. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. I’m happy too, although as time ticks by, I’m growing increasingly afraid. I’m afraid that what Aris told me won’t be true, that I won’t feel a sudden rush of love for my son. If it weren’t for the excess weight, the back pain, the constant urge to pee, and the difficulty sleeping, I’d wish this baby would stay in there forever.

I’ve spoken with Emma, Benedetto, and Linda, and they’ve all agreed to be here to welcome Daniel into the world. They’re all delighted that Aris is here with me, but I think they’re still hesitant to trust him and want to make sure I’m not alone when the time comes. I wish I could make them see that they’re wrong, that Aris will be with me during the birth and every day after that. Besides, maybe they’re just looking for an excuse to come visit. I’m glad that they want to come see me. Along with Aris, they’re my family now, and I couldn’t have chosen a better one.