Chapter 13 #2
“He made me feel like he was different—more Gap than Gucci, you know? But I didn’t exactly protest when little bits of luxury would find their way to me along the way.
I’m ashamed to admit that I thought some parts were fun,” she said, shaking her head.
“I grew up in a house that used to be a shack for the orange pickers until they put in plumbing and called it a ‘bungalow.’ The first time I was in Charlie’s parents’ house, I got lost and ended up in the cinema.
There was even a popcorn machine. When his mother let me borrow a Dior gown once to go to a benefit, and this is the first time I am admitting this, I freaked out when I put it on because I had seen it in a magazine and knew how much it cost. And this one is the worst. When I needed to drive to a conference in Rhode Island, Charlie let me borrow his car.
Andrea, it was a Bentley. Do I look like a girl who should be driving a Bentley? ”
“I think those cars burn one liter of gas every three minutes, so probably no one should be driving a Bentley. But it does sound like fun,” he said. “You can’t beat yourself up over that.”
“I didn’t realize that those kinds of experiences come with strings attached.
In the end, I was in way over my head. He was not so kind when it was over—trying to hurt me like a spoiled boy breaking all of his toys.
His insistence that he didn’t ever think of the difference between us felt like a lie too.
I am not sad to be away from all of that mess.
But like I told you from the beginning, it is part of what got me here. ”
“He didn’t do anything to you did he?”
“No, no. He just kept trying a combination of gaslighting and manipulating certain aspects of my life to try to get me to need him, but I would never let myself owe him once I saw who he was. I only regret not going with my gut from the beginning. Guys like him are not capable of normal. I guess in the end I learned that I can’t always trust myself. That’s what hurts.”
“Don’t say that. It can be easy to fall for someone if they have enough charisma. I did,” he said.
“And I’m guessing that you didn’t feel safe there either. It may have manifested itself differently, but that’s what panic is. It’s a fundamental lack of safety. I guess you didn’t have anyone who could tell you it was going to be OK?”
“No. Danni was a model, and like you, I admit that I was taken in by some of that. At first, it was easy to play along with it, all of that vita brillante, I would call it—a sparkling life. Everyone thought I was the luckiest guy because she was really beautiful and seemed so cool, you know? There wasn’t a lot of substance beyond that.
She left me to be with someone who wanted to live that life with her when I couldn’t anymore. ”
“So, you’re exactly like me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Here’s another question. You’re a researcher, right? So, what happens when you start out with a hypothesis and then you conduct the research, but new information comes in that clearly disproves the hypothesis. Do you try to make it fit? Ignore it? Start over again?”
“I see where you’re going with this. Look, if I have an idea about something, it’s because I’ve seen evidence of it over and over again.
No researcher goes on vibes only—no good researcher, anyway.
So, my hypothesis is going to be good or else I wouldn’t be using it.
If I am gathering information and get a weird piece of data, that’s an outlier.
I’m still not going to base my decisions on it. ”
“What happens if there isn’t likely to be any more data?”
“You mean because the person died nearly thirty years ago?”
“Something like that,” he said, placing his wineglass on the side table behind him.
“Then we go on what we know. Right now, I know that I am starting to get hungry,” she said, leaning over to glance at the kitchen counter over his shoulder. “Is that Nutella?”
“It is. But I never made the pizza crust. I only have the frozen one, which”—he paused, clutching his chest—“would be a gross failure of hospitality on my part. I can’t have you eat that.”
“Wait. First you’re telling me that in this country people put Nutella on pizza crust, and then you’re telling me that I can’t have any?”
“Uff, OK. I see what you mean. I’ll make the frozen one for you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone—especially not Vivi. She’ll have me impeached.”
“You make me Nutella pizza and I’ll forget I know how to speak at all.”
Later, as they walked back to Casa Cocuzzolo, with the peach glow from the streetlights casting their shadows across the stones, Andrea reached over to her, hooking his little finger with hers to link their forms. And she didn’t pull away until they got to the stairway.
“You know what I realized?” she asked.
“Tell me,” he said.
“I don’t even have your phone number,” she said, laughing.
“I guess…” He trailed off, thinking. “I guess you’re right. How did that happen?”
“Maybe it’s because it seems like everyone in this town is perpetually within earshot.”
“Probably true,” he said. “But also, it seems like every time we have to find each other, we do.”
“I’d still like to have your number now that you’ll be my landlord. You never know when I’m going to need to complain about something, like the view being so beautiful I can’t focus on work.”
“Well, text me and I’ll come over and try to make it uglier.”
“Deal. Thank you for today,” she said. “I didn’t expect any of this. There’s an expression that people use about ‘being caught on the back foot,’ and I really get it now.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, squeezing her finger with his. “But as someone who has danced with you, I can confidently say you’re great on either foot.”
Andrea hugged her tight after they exchanged numbers, and he watched her walk up the steps back to the hotel until she turned around and waved for the last time. He waited until he couldn’t stand it any longer before pulling his phone out of his pocket and couldn’t help smiling as he typed.
Andrea:
Testing … testing …
I’m on my commute back
Lora:
I barely opened the door
Are you lost?
Andrea:
Directionally or spiritually?
Lora:
Are you always this fun on text?
Andrea:
I guess we will find out