Chapter 61
James
Market day is busier than usual. Feria brings Italians from every region to Urbino, though most head out to the coast. Nina’s table is nearly empty of cheese, the coolers behind us packed only with slushy melting ice, as we sit in companionable silence watching the swarm.
“Ava is doing well,” she says, pretending to wipe something off the table.
She does this. Not so subtly updating me about her like I need to be reminded that she’s out there existing without me.
“That’s good,” I say. And I mean it. Her happiness is the only thing making this separation acceptable.
“Lei ha detto che il lavoro è troppo—that she’s overworked and tired already.”
I glance over at my aunt, and she lifts her brows and shrugs, like she’s just making small chat and not burying land mines beneath the surface of my brain.
Overworked means nothing. Ava knew exactly what she was signing up for—she wanted that push and burn. It’s how she got through. At least, that’s what she wanted before.
Nina meets my gaze, studying my face like she is searching for her next move on a chessboard.
“Forse, you should call her, no?” she asks, fingers and hands swirling in a why not gesture.
“I told you, Zia. Clean break was her call. Less messy.” I put the last two words in air quotes.
“Ancora? She still believes that life is not meant to be messy?” She shakes her head as if she has somehow failed and then pats my face twice. “Leaving doesn’t always mean not loving,” she says softly.
I look back out at the market. For once, Nina has it wrong. When you love someone you stay by their side. You are there. Present, every chance you have.
“Tuo Zio wants you to stop by his office alle nove,” Nina says.
Nine? I glance at my watch. It’s five of nine.
I make a frustrated noise and she winks at me.
“I’ll see you at dinner. Vincenzo’s stanotte.”
I nod and kiss her cheek, then she turns to the man approaching the booth and I’m dismissed.
The walk down the hill and out of town makes me think of the night I found Ava at Vincenzo’s, more than a little tipsy, sitting with our closest friends like she’d known them for years. That was the first night her shields had lowered, maybe even the first night that I felt what I feel now. I walk the path toward campus as briskly as I can without soaking myself in sweat—the aggressive pace is mostly for my lateness, but partially because I’m trying to escape the memory of her barefoot in Franco’s hat. When I arrive, Leo’s office door is open and he’s bent over papers, reading glasses lowered and lips pursed.
I knock lightly and he looks up over the rim of the glasses.
“Come in, Gi,” he says, smiling politely.
He’s been avoiding me for the entire week, avoiding whatever conversation we are about to have that is long past due.
My ass is barely in the seat when he says, “I’m announcing my resignation tomorrow.”
I say the words back to myself and stare at him, waiting for the punch line. This is not a man who resigns. This is a man who bleeds academia—who smells of books and knowledge and laurel.
“What?” I say dumbly.
“Maso’s been offered a spot at Queensbridge Academy,” he says. “A scholarship too, per calcio.” He takes off his glasses, folds them and slips them into his breast pocket. “Your aunt and I have never had a chance to live abroad, and we’d like to see the world …”
His voice trails off, not because he’s done explaining, but because my brain can’t process the words coming out of his mouth. I’m picking up bits and pieces.
Flat in Notting Hill.
Term starts in September.
Adjunct at King’s College.
Uvaldi caring for the sheep.
My sabbatical secured should I choose to come.
I put my hand up and my uncle lifts his brows.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. But I know the answer to that question.
All of these things he’s saying, the opportunity for Maso, Nina’s desire to travel, his own readiness to try something new—they all are only one part of the picture.
“è tempo, Gi. It’s time to see where this will take you,” he says.
What’s left of my heart clenches tightly, like a fist squeezing a stress ball. They are doing this for me—leaving everything they know and love to force my hand and make me follow my dream.
My eyes fill up, and Leo stands, walks around his desk, and tugs me out of the chair and into his arms.
“Siamo sempre con te. Always,” he says in his gruff voice as we embrace.
We are always with you.
Never have I believed those words more than this very moment.