Chapter 23
“Thank you so much, Germana,” he said as she handed him the microphone.
Most of the crowd had filled in the area in front of the stage and stared up at him.
His mouth suddenly felt so dry. Had he drunk any water recently?
He smiled as everyone applauded and scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on Lora.
She stood next to one of the booths in the open space near Giada’s.
It was impossible not to see her somber face.
He suddenly wanted to show her that photo, ask her what she thought of the apartment.
But they wouldn’t have that kind of relationship now—the kind where you get news and want to call the person immediately, the kind where you can wonder about some impossible idea out loud and know that they will wonder with you.
“It has been my great pleasure to serve you these last four years, and I am quite proud of the many goals that we have accomplished together. We started from a very difficult place, as most of you know, and I feel that where we have come in such a short time is really remarkable. We have a long way to go, of course, and I am already setting plans in motion to be able to complete certain projects like the reconstruction of the Catalano Bridge, and other measures designed to bolster our efforts to expand economic interests and tourism.”
He could not help his eyes from finding Lora again.
Giada appeared at her side, rubbing her arm in comfort, and Lora said something to her.
In six years, he would be forty-three, but Lora would only be thirty-nine.
His dad would be approaching ninety. He didn’t feel well enough to come tonight.
Would his parents see the end of his second term?
“Some of you may be surprised to hear that the idea of becoming mayor was very unexpected for me. It was not part of my plan. I did not think that I would feel the way I do about Baia Santa. Obviously I grew up here, but it has come to mean something different to me. Now it lives in my heart in a different way. And it has been challenging, that’s no doubt.
But I think that it has all been worth it.
And no matter what happens in the future…
” He trailed off, a weight in his throat.
He felt a squeeze in his chest and tried to look down at the phone, but it had gone blurry, the black letters shimmying across the white screen like insects.
He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again, and found Lora.
How odd that she seemed to be worried about something.
He could tell from here—that’s how well he already knew her.
“Which is why I’d like to announce—” he said, but his breath cut off.
In a nanosecond, his mind spun him through weeks of stress, renovations, advertisements, parents, worry, budgets, bridges, Lora, Loretta, the summer, and it was all temporary—so, so temporary.
His stomach dropped and his arms cramped.
Suddenly he was sweating and freezing and feeling like he needed the bathroom again and maybe his legs would give out beneath him in front of hundreds of people.
But just before everything seemed like it would fade to black, he bowed slightly, handed the microphone to Germana, and strode off the stage.
Lora had known something was wrong from the second he stepped on the stage.
There was something odd in the way he stood, like his limbs had been collected and arranged to look like Andrea, but it wasn’t him.
He seemed out of breath, and though she could not understand all of the words he was saying, she could tell the cadence was off.
Something in her clicked onto high alert, like when her mom was so very sick and some days Lora would come home from class to find the house too quiet.
She’d learned to keep her phone in her pocket and gas in the car back then in case she would have to rush Pamela off to the hospital.
Giada had picked up on it too. She grabbed Lora’s arm and squeezed when she saw him struggle to get his words out.
When he ran off the stage, she wasn’t even surprised.
She just glanced at Giada and disappeared into the crowd after him.
Not wanting to raise more alarms, she walked, didn’t run.
But she couldn’t see what direction he’d gone.
Given that his apartment bordered the piazza, she was reasonably sure that he would not have gone there.
It was the same logic that told her he would not be at city hall.
If he was sick, he would not make it far.
Did he have an extra key to her house? Would he go there?
And then she knew. She turned back to the crowd, double-checking that no one was watching her, and jogged down one street.
She took a right and descended a short stairway into a dark garden with a wooden bench.
Andrea sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
His chest expanded and contracted as he seemed to struggle to get air.
She froze, suddenly afraid that she would spook him like some wild injured thing.
But she had to believe that she could help.
She had to try. She took a step down into the garden, her shoe scraping on the stone.
His head whipped up with a start, and Lora raised her hands in a gesture of peace, even though she knew the war was inside him.
“I just want to know if you’re OK. Can you breathe?” she asked.
He nodded, but she wasn’t convinced. She edged a little bit closer.
“It’s really beautiful here,” she continued. “I’m so bad at knowing plant names, though. What is that one by your foot?”
“It’s lavender,” he said, glancing down. He drew his head back and put his hands on his hips, still breathing hard.
“And that one on the wall? It looks purple in this light.”
“It is. That’s bougainvillea.”
“This one is a succulent, right?” She held her hand over a pot of smooth, fat green leaves clustered in the shape of a rose.
“We call them piante grasse,” he said, his eyes flicking over to the pot. “What are you doing here and why are you asking me about plants?”
“Because sometimes it can help. Did you ever hear about the Three-Three-Three rule?” she asked.
He shook his head no. Lora gestured toward the bench, silently asking for permission to sit next to him.
He nodded. “You find three things that you can see, three things that you can hear, and three things that you can touch. You’re already through the first part. So, what can you hear?”
“I can hear you worrying too much about me,” he said, his hands relaxed off his hips.
“Anything else?” she asked, settling onto the bench.
“The band started up again,” he said, after a pause.
“Probably a good sign, right?”
He nodded again, his shoulders settling back down.
“I can hear the water dripping from the fontanella there in the corner,” he said, gesturing toward the dark marble form.
“Now you have to touch three things.”
“Does the bench count?”
“For your ass, it does.” She smiled.
“Then it counts.” He reached into his pocket and produced a coin. “Two euros.”
“Perfect. One more.”
Without looking, he picked up her hand and threaded their fingers together, placing the clasp on top of his knee.
“You.”
“How do you feel now?” she asked, rubbing her thumb on the back of his knuckles. He pulled his hand away.
“Better.”
“Good,” she said, her discarded hand lying open in her lap.
“I was wrong,” he said, looking up at the sliver of moon hanging over the garden. “I could not have been more wrong.”
“What were you wrong about?”
“I thought it wouldn’t happen here. I thought it was a New York thing.
I thought it was because I was weak from growing up in a town that was so small you could fit the whole population into a subway car.
It was work stress and staying ahead of the markets and hours of research and so many late nights.
It was dehydration, being hung over, arguing with Danni, no sleep.
I thought it was the honking horns and police sirens and whatever other stupid excuses I made.
It was always something else…” He trailed off. “But it was me all along.”
“Were you holding your breath all this time? For four years?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice cracking. “Maybe I was.”
“No one could live like that,” she said. “Just hoping that something awful wasn’t going to happen every single day.”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
She shrugged, leaned back to look up at the glittering, obsidian sky.
“Know that even if it did happen, you can handle it. I know it sounds really annoying, but anxiety can’t kill you. It feels like it’s going to, but it’s really only a big jerk at the end of the day. Like any bully, it will run off if you stand up to it.”
“That’s the solution, huh?”
“No. That’s a quick fix. The solution is something else that you’re going to have to figure out. But that’s a little above my pay grade.”
“Well, I’ve got a lot of figuring out to do. Including how to explain what the hell happened tonight to a town full of people.”
“You were sick. People don’t have to know more than that. Tell them you ate a bad frittella.”
“I’ll give that a try. How did you know I would be here, anyway?”
“Because the first time we came here, it was when you were overwhelmed with emotion. I figured this was a place that helped you feel settled.”
“It was.”
“It still can be. What makes you feel at peace is also in you, Andrea, not just the panic. It’s not this country or this town or even this garden.” She reached out, tapped her finger on his chest. “It’s here.”
He nodded and finally stood.
“I am going to go,” he said. “You should go back to the party.”
“Where will you be?” she asked.
“Wherever I can think. You don’t have to worry about me, Lora.”