CHAPTER 16
Bradford
The next few days go by in much the same manner. Between Bruno, his mum and his sister, they’ve cobbled together a constant vigil at Giovanni’s bedside. Gabriela’s taken time off work, but I’ve beaten her down till she lets me look after the boys without protesting. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me as a babysitter for the moment,” I told her.
I’ve been spending the daytimes at Bruno’s apartment, curled up in bed with him while the boys are at school. The rest of the time, I’ve been at Gabriela’s place. The boys have quickly become used to me, and I think they’re pretty pleased with my chilled approach. This is a difficult time for them, so I’m not gonna behave like some arsehole disciplinarian. So long as they’re fed and made to shower and go to school, it’s enough for now.
Each afternoon I’ve helped them with their homework. Each evening I’ve dug through Claudio and Gabriela’s fridge and pantry and cooked up something for dinner.
“Nonna doesn’t make it like that,” Marco will tell me.
“Well, I do. I’m sure your nonna is an expert, but there’s lots of ways to cook things and I know how to make food taste good.”
There doesn’t seem to be any arguments about that when it comes to eating. I may not win any prizes for the healthiest cooking, but I always end up with empty plates.
Both Claudio and Gabriela have had it drilled into them that I am staying, so they are free to come and go as they need. The boys and I are happy to just hang out watching TV at night with Brendan. I’m sure I’m letting them stay up well past their usual bedtime, but I'm glad it earns me extra brownie points with them. There have to be some perks when you’re a kid who’s saddled with some rando babysitter.
Throughout this whole ordeal, Jarrod has been the last thing on my mind. My sole concession was to send a terse message that read, “I’m gonna be away for a few days.” At this late stage, I feel like that’s all he deserves.
***
On my third night with the boys, Claudio picks them up from school, then drops them home after taking them to visit the hospital. Leaving them with me so he can return to work, I go through our established evening routine. Gabriela and Claudio still aren’t home by the time the boys are in bed, so I stay up and finish some more of my marking. I’m glad it’s close to the end of semester and I’ll be free of work for a while. It’s been especially tedious having to get everything done on my iPad. Typing is much more cumbersome when you have to wedge the device inches from your face and tap away with one finger.
Just as I’m done for the night, I hear a faint sound from one of the rooms. Tiptoeing down the hall, I pass Stefano’s bedroom. As he’s twelve and pubescent, he always has the door firmly shut. Ha. Couldn’t possibly think of a reason why he does that. When I get nearer to Marco’s partially-open bedroom door, the sniffling is clear as a bell. My heart breaks for him. He’s still such a little kid and this whole situation must be scary as hell.
Brendan is hot on my heels as I pad quietly into the room. Pulling up Marco’s desk chair, I take a seat, then signal to my furry best mate. I know it’s probably breaking a house rule, but the kid is distressed and I know how therapeutic Brendan can be. He's also very intuitive—at my command, he’s hoisted himself onto the mattress with as much delicacy as possible. He immediately aligns himself with Marco and nuzzles against him. Marco flings his arm around him and begins to cry hard. I just wait there patiently, biding my time till the deluge slows.
I’m not going to ask Marco open questions, but I’ll probe just a little. A few ‘yes’ or ‘no’ ones might prompt him to open up. “Are you sad about nonno?”
“Yes.” Marco’s hyperventilating, punctuated by broken sobs. “Is he going to get better?”
I’ve left this side of things to his parents. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but Marco’s distraught, and I’m not going to lie to him. “I really don’t know, Marco. He’s very, very sick. Maybe I can ask Uncle Bruno.”
“He was still asleep today. Mum said he never woke up after the operation.” Marco’s voice breaks as he finishes his sentence. I can hear the fear and confusion in his voice. This is something so foreign to him. I sincerely doubt he has any point of reference.
“Sometimes people are so sick after they have an operation it might take them a long time to wake up.”
“But what if nonno doesn’t ever wake up? I never said I loved him. He might die and he won’t know.” Marco falls into a second and more powerful wave of sobs. Brendan nudges against his face, licking at his neck, and he eventually comes back to shaky breaths.
“Nonno already knows it, buddy. You know how I know that?”
“No.” Marco turns his red eyes to me.
“Well, what stuff does he do with you?”
He thinks for a moment, still sniffling here and there. “He takes us to the beach. And he buys us ice cream. And he comes with us to swimming lessons and he watches when we play soccer.”
“Well, Marco, sometimes when old people like us love someone, we do things like that. It’s kind of a way to let them know that we love them without actually saying any words. And nonno can see how happy you are when you do fun stuff together. That’s how he can tell that you love him too.”
“Can he really?”
“Totally.” I move in a little closer, leaning my elbows on my knees. “And you know another thing? Sometimes when sick people are asleep for a long time like nonno, they can actually hear everything we say. So when you were with him today, I reckon he definitely knew.”
“OK.” Marco takes a final sniff, then settles back, keeping his arm around my dog. “Can Brendan stay here with me tonight?”
I smile and slowly get to my feet. “For a little while. Just till you go to sleep, OK?”
“Bradford, can you babysit for us all the time?”
God, the kid’s got me feeling all emotional now. “I’m here whenever you need me, buddy.”
On my way out of Marco’s room, I almost jump at a figure lurking in the hallway. It’s Claudio. “You’re gonna do me out of a job, mate,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. His phone rings, and he disappears into his bedroom.
By the time I've reached the lounge room, my own phone is ringing.
“Hey, Blinky .” Bruno sounds shattered. Given the amount of sleep he must have had, I’m not surprised. “Can I see you tonight?” He pauses for a moment. I can hear him breathing. “Dad passed away.”
I don’t even know what’s going through my head. Somehow I manage to blurt out, “I’m coming down there now.” Immediately I’m groping around in the bag for Brendan’s harness.
“No. We’re going back to Mum and Dad’s. I’ll come and get you.”
The wait for him is the longest I’ve ever experienced in my life. Within seconds, I’ve gathered everything together in my bag. Then I sit there with Brendan, stroking his fur. Over and over I pat him, hypnotically focusing on the repetitive task, trying to alleviate how helpless, how utterly useless I feel.
Claudio emerges from the hall with his two sleepy boys in tow. He stops in the living room, digging out his keys.
“Bruno’s picking me up,” I say quietly. “You guys go.”
Claudio nods. Words are difficult right now. Instinct has taken over.
Not long after they’ve left, Bruno arrives. His face is hollow. His eyes are blank. And as soon as I’ve reached him, he falls into my arms. For a good ten minutes, we stand there. His face is buried in my neck, and I feel his breath wafting over my shoulder in long slow bursts. His chest rises and falls as I clutch onto him, trying to shoulder as much of his burden as I can. I’m not going to say anything. Bruno’s body is communicating everything I need to know.
Slowly, he lets me go. The smile he gives me is shot with a visceral sadness. He needs me to take control right now. I stretch up and kiss him softly on the cheek, then collect my bag and my dog. Grabbing Bruno’s hand, I lead him to the door, turn the knob and switch off the lights.
I’ve never been to Bruno’s parents’ house, but it takes only seconds to drive there. We could have walked the distance in five minutes, but right now that’s not important. It’s one of those old fifties or sixties houses, with a flight of steps leading up to a front verandah surrounded by a white iron decorative railing. Bruno doesn’t lead me that way, however; he unlocks the side gate and takes me down a sloping path.
The rear of the house is lower than the front, and at the bottom is a set of sliding glass doors. I follow Bruno through them and he switches on the lights, placing my bag next to a double bed in the corner. Squinting from left to right, I quickly try and orientate myself to the unfamiliar surroundings. It’s a large tiled area, with a floral lounge suite towards the back and various cupboards lining the walls.
“This is the rumpus room,” says Bruno. “It kind of doubles as a guest quarters. There’s a laundry and a small ensuite bathroom through there.” He points to a door on the other side of the room. Facing me, he places his hands on my upper arms. “Are you OK to stay here with me tonight?”
“Anything you want, Bruno. No matter what.”
He smiles faintly, glancing towards the door. “I have to go upstairs for a while. Did you want to come?” He seems uncomfortable. I’m reading him loud and clear.
“Don’t worry about me. You go and be with your family.”
He leans forward and kisses my forehead, sniffing deeply in my hair. I know what he’s doing. I do it to him too. Drawing in his scent like that reminds me just how lucky I am to have him in my life.
***
I wake bolt upright. I can’t believe I passed out like that. I wanted to be one hundred percent present in case Bruno needed me. But the bathroom had been stocked with nice towels, the hot shower had been so soothing, and the neatly-made bed had been so comfortable that I’d fallen asleep with my iPad in front of me. Holding it up to unlock it with my face, I check the time. Nearly three a.m. Bruno must still be upstairs.
The tiles are cold under my feet as I pad across the floor to the sliding glass doors. There's a crack in the curtains, and a faint glow is filtering through. Poking my head between them, I try my best to make out where the light is coming from. To the right is a bright orange circle several feet off the ground. Underneath it is a white figure that seems slumped forward in a sitting position.
I slide the door open as quietly as I can and step out onto the freezing pavement. Slowly approaching the figure, I see it’s Bruno. He’s in a white bathrobe, sitting in a wooden outdoor chair with a towel draped over his neck. Above him, an outdoor gas heater burns away. The fingers of its radiating warmth flick at my cheeks as I approach in the frigid night air.
My heart twists in pain as I get close enough to see. Bruno is leaning forward, his shoulders shaking. And in his hands is his father’s fedora. This is a private moment for him, but I can’t bear to stay away. The second my outstretched hand touches the back of his neck, he leans into me and begins to howl. My reaction is unplanned, automatic. Immediately, my hands are around the back of his head, clasping it to my chest as I climb on to straddle his lap. I stay there, rocking him, my fingers stroking the back of his scalp as he falls apart in my embrace. If only I can hold him tight enough, maybe I might be able to take some of his pain.
My arms are burning, the towel around his neck is damp and clammy, and my legs are going numb, but it doesn't matter. I sit there and ride it out with him, trying to give him as much of my heart as possible. I’ll stay here till dawn if it helps ease his suffering even one iota.
Long after the sobs have abated, long after his body has stopped shaking, long after his breathing has evened out, we’re still sitting there. Finally, Bruno lifts his face from my chest. “Take me to bed, Blinky ,” he whispers.
Slowly, I slide off his lap and massage his legs. I want to apologise for weighing them down with my bulk for so long, but silence seems the best option right now. Helping him to his feet, I lead him across the garden and through the glass doors, which I lock behind us. Bruno is understandably shell-shocked, staying rooted to the spot till I gently guide him towards the bed. I take off his wet towel, slip off his bathrobe and hold the covers up so he can crawl underneath them.
I can’t help becoming hard as I climb in behind him and cuddle up into the big spoon position. There’s something so tragically beautiful in his vulnerability. My erection may be uncontrollable, but my actions aren’t. I try my best to think of other things as my cock flexes against his arse crack.
“Fuck me.” Bruno’s voice is broken. “Please.”
I want to ask him if he’s sure, but there’s a fragile urgency in the way he’s pleading with me. Rolling over, I rifle through my bag, pulling out my trusty bottle of oil. Bruno moans quietly as I rub it around his anus, gradually pressing till I get two fingers inside. He only needs a cursory stretch before I can tell he’s ready. I slick up my knob, move into him and push. He takes me fast. It’s so warm inside him. His body comforts me as I draw myself against him, angling my hips while I thrust. He’s breathing hard. His arm moves across mine, then I feel the thumping motion as he begins to jerk fast on his cock. His soft whimpers rattle me with their heartbroken timbre, but I know I’m giving him exactly what he needs.
Bruno’s in a trance, barrelling forward with haste. He’s grasping wildly for the finishing line and it’s my job to help him get there. With three pained grunts, his body stiffens and his arse clamps hard on my cock. It’s glorious, but the soaring intimacy I feel is tainted with a chest-crushing sense of melancholy. A long breath escapes Bruno as tension drains from his entire being. I hold him there, stroking the fur on his belly as I feel him go limp.
Slowly, I relax my hips and allow my cock to slip from him in tiny increments. He’s sated. At least I’ve been able to help him in some small way.
***
FOMO has taken up residency in my life since Bruno burst onto the scene. This morning is no exception. It’s nine-thirty and I’ve woken up with some awful ache in my chest, only to find Bruno isn’t in the bed with me. He must be upstairs again with the family, but I can’t get over the very physical feeling that I should be with him.
As my mental fog dissipates, I sense the pain behind my ribcage starting to ease. Maybe I have sleep apnoea. Then again, nobody ever complained about me snoring. Jarrod certainly would have hassled me if that was the case. Deep breaths, Bradford. Oxygen is your friend. Bit by bit, my rejuvenated lungs entice my thoughts to reorganise themselves into some semblance of logic.
The sliding door opens, and Bruno tiptoes inside.
“Hey, sexy man,” I say in a surprisingly croaky voice. “No need to be quiet, I’m awake.”
Bruno smiles, then strolls over to the bed, climbs on top of the covers and wraps himself around my body. He’s freshly showered, I can smell the soap he used. I feel feral, all naked and unkempt after my unruly sleep, but Bruno seems to like it, burying his head into me and sniffing deeply. “I’m gonna have to go to Italy sometime soon,” he mumbles against my neck. “Dad needs to be buried in the family plot in Calabria.”
God. It sounds like the storyline from a Mafia movie. “Oh, OK. Won’t that take a long time to organise, though?”
“I don’t know. I imagine it will.” He reaches down to my right nipple and idly begins to caress it. It reminds me that I’m still semi-erect with my morning boner. It also reminds me that I didn’t come last night after I’d finished satisfying Bruno. I think I now have three or four days’ worth stored up in my balls. I’m going to have to sneak in a wank at some stage. I’m not keen to bother Bruno about it. He has more than enough to deal with.
“What about the rest of the family here, Bru?”
He sighs. “Gab wants Claudio and the boys to come. She and Claudio are trying to organise things now. I guess it depends on the church. And the flights. And transporting Dad.”
Bruno’s being surprisingly pragmatic. Maybe it’s the only way he can cope with it all at the moment. I’m just going to let him be. I need him to know that I’m a safe place.
There’s a knock on the sliding door. Bruno glances at my naked top half, then his dark eyes meet mine as I pull the blankets up to cover myself. He’s so considerate. “Come in,” he calls out.
Gabriela glides into the room as Brendan walks up to greet her, tail wagging. She bends down and hugs him, ruffling his neck. “Claudio’s doing whatever he can this end,” she says. “We won’t be able to get hold of anyone overseas till late this afternoon.” Letting go of Brendan, she stands up, smooths herself down and graduates to the end of the bed, perching on the mattress. “I just came back to check on Mum. The boys are upstairs. I’ve kept them home from school.” She glances at her watch. “God, there’s so much to do. Are you around for a while later, Bru?”
“Sure, I can watch them.” He sighs again, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’ll have to go home and see Brie at some stage.”
“I’ll stay. Don’t worry about any of this.” I look from Gabriela to Bruno. “Really. You both do what you need to do. Bruno, you don’t need me tagging along. Gabriela, you know the boys will be fine with me.”
Gabriela smiles in defeat, reaching across and patting me on the leg. “Thank you for this, Bradford.” She gets to her feet. “If you’re sure it’s OK, I’ll bring them back here at lunchtime.”
With Gabriela gone, Bruno pops back upstairs to see Valentina. After throwing on yesterday’s clothes, I take Brendan for a short walk around the block, then pop into the small bathroom to freshen up. I almost feel guilty as my cock hardens under the cascading hot water in the shower. I’m thinking about how I held onto Bruno last night. The warmth of his furry body against my skin as I thrust my cock into his arse and brought him to orgasm. By the time I’m out of the shower and towelling myself off, my penis is standing at full salute.
Bruno’s lounging on the double bed as I enter the rumpus room. “Did you just have a wank?” he asks, pointing to the tent in the towel around my waist.
“No. That shower’s too small. I like to wank when I’m sitting or lying down.”
When I’ve almost reached the bed, I pull the towel off my waist and allow my dick to spring out. “Of course I’d never say no to being pounded from behind while I'm standing in the shower.”
Bruno sits up and suctions his lips straight onto my dick. The fiery heat of his mouth and firm rubbing of his tongue never fail to make me moan, and right now I’m louder than ever. In fact, I’m sure it’s a little too loud. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I forgot where I was.”
Bruno lets my dick slip from his mouth with a wet smack of his lips. “Don’t worry. We’re safe. And while we’re talking about you being pounded” — he slides his hand over my arse cheek and reaches in to stroke my hole with his finger — “I’ve worked you out now.”
“What do you mean?”
He gives me an evil grin. “Why you slip your cock out of my arse after I’ve come. Why you never shoot in my mouth when I suck your dick.”
I feel a little unnerved. “Yeah?”
“You like something up your arse when you blow. Like a couple of fingers. Or my tongue. Or my cock. ”
I’m sure I’m turning crimson. I’m not some lazy bottom. I will happily drive my dick into my man’s tight arsehole. I love it. But Bruno’s spot on. “You make a good point there.”
Bruno reaches under the covers and pulls out an object, holding it close enough for me to see clearly. “This oughta work a treat.”
It’s a big black vibrating dildo. I lean forward, squinting at the logo on the silver base. Colt , it says. “Is this yours?” My voice sounds incredulous.
“Um, yeah. Why… does that gross you out?”
My eyes go wide and I let out a raucous laugh. “Bruno, my tongue has barely left your arse for months. I just think it’s… fucking hot that you lie there thrusting this up your hole when you’re all by yourself. I would subscribe to that OnlyFans in a heartbeat.”
Bruno growls and tackles me to the bed. Standing up, he yanks me over onto my back and pulls my legs till they’re hanging over the edge of the mattress. Grabbing a pillow, he plonks it on the floor and kneels on it, pushing my knees outwards and upwards. Straight into my arse goes his face, and I feel the cold rush as his nostrils suck in air against my anus. This is immediately followed by the hot wet slather of his tongue as it probes hard, trying to get inside. He’s rough and impatient and it’s so damn arousing that I’m moaning like some filthy strumpet.
He breaks away from me, fumbling around the bed beside me. Producing a tube of lube, he squeezes some over my arse crack and tosses it aside. One of his hands gets to work rubbing it in as his other grabs hold of my erection. With perfect timing, his mouth clamps over my knob right as his fingers slide up inside my arse. Oh, Jesus, it’s sublime. He’s so bloody good. In and out of me he pistons, his knuckles bumping against my tight ring, his fingers twisting and brushing against my prostate, his lips sucking firmly along my shaft, and his tongue rubbing hard on my knob, jamming it against the roof of his mouth.
The supreme effort he’s going to has me crying out. I’m trying to put a lid on it, but Bruno just keeps upping the ante. My toes are curling back and forth, my butt muscles are clenching and releasing, and now my thumbs are strumming my nipples. It’s almost too much.
Bruno’s fingers slip from my arse, but he doesn’t let up with his mouth, pumping his head up and down, making my knob butt against the back of his throat. His hand leaves the base of my dick and I feel a probing against my slick anus. I know I have to work against it. As the large head of the dildo presses harder on my sphincter, I push outwards, grinding my hole onto it. Slowly, I feel myself expanding. If I bear down hard enough, I know it won’t hurt much. Bruno seems to be well aware of how big this toy is, and the force he’s using rapidly ebbs and flows, allowing the silicone monster to enter me by degrees. Jesus, the stretch is achingly euphoric, and it’s all because he’s busily bombarding my knob with his mouth and tongue as he works.
I'm hovering in a state of ecstasy. Just when I’m settling back to enjoy it, the buzzing starts. And increases. And increases again. Bruno begins to slide the vibrator in and out, pumping his mouth up and down the length of my dick. His pace accelerates till he’s established a rhythm, then he adds in a swishing movement with his tongue, which rubs the PA ring inside my cock. This is where I begin to evanesce. It’s like I’ve given in. I’m lying there, my fingers teasing the end of my nipples, while Bruno orchestrates a complex barrage of orgasmic manoeuvres designed to make me explode.
I can feel my arse trying to push out the dildo as I hurtle towards climax, but Bruno diligently counters it, building the tension till I think I’m going to split apart. “Oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK! I’m coming!” I wail. I feel the squeeze inside me, followed by the exquisite pulsating of my dick as it purges its seed into Bruno’s mouth. I’m almost crying like a baby, it’s that good.
Panting to the full extent of my lungs’ expansion, I flop back against the mattress. Bruno’s lips and tongue lap at the end of my cock, gathering the final vestiges of my sperm. Down below, I feel the huge dildo gradually withdraw from my arse. My breathing is slowing now, the residual hyperventilation sending me into a dizzy high. “My God, Bruno. That’s never happened to me before. Ever.”
His face rises from between my legs with a huge grin plastered across it. “Which part?”
“Lying back while someone sucked me off till I came.”
He hoists himself up and over me so his fully-clothed body is pressed against my naked front and our noses are almost touching. “I thought so. And now that I’ve broken the seal, I’m gonna be doing this all the time.” Lowering his face even further, he joins his soft lips to mine. Our beards converge and hot breath escapes our nostrils to create a warm cloud that cushions the closeness we’re sharing. His tongue moves tenderly into my mouth, stroking, caressing, searching for the kind of gentle intimacy it needs. And I have it in spades for this man.
I reach up and cup my hands behind his smooth head, holding this precious part of him with as much reverence as I’m able to muster. I could never bear it if he slipped away from me.
Bruno nips against my lips with his, speaking to me while they’re still touching. “Last night you were there for me, Bradford. Anything I needed, you gave it to me. I didn’t have to explain myself, you just watched for the signs and you took care of them without question.”
He lifts his head slightly, allowing me to stare directly into his eyes. I move my gaze from one to the other and back again, trying to disappear into them. It’s you, I want to say. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, Bruno. But I don’t dare. All I can do is stroke the back of his head, trying my best to convey my thoughts by boring them deep into the dark irises looking down at me.
***
Gabriela brings the boys round at lunchtime as planned. Bruno’s off at his apartment with Brie, so I take the boys out walking with Brendan while Gabriela drops in upstairs to see her mum. Marco and Stefano are quiet during the trek down to Maroubra Beach. I’m not going to try and prompt them to talk. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than some adult poking their nose in and bombarding them with unsolicited questions and clumsy reassurances. As much as I remember what it was like to be their age, I’m well aware I’ll just come across as an awkward dickhead.
“Are you allowed to take him on the beach?” says Stefano, pointing to Brendan as we stroll onto the sand.
“Yeah. Guide dogs can go anywhere.”
“Does he play catch?”
“He loves it. I’m not very good at it anymore, though.” We reach the sweet spot where the sand has firmed up but isn’t wet. Stooping down, I undo Brendan’s harness, then fish the tennis ball out of my backpack. “Try it if you want.” I hand Stefano the ball, then unclip Brendan’s leash. My excited lab has just spotted his favourite plaything and he flies into action. Sitting back on the sand, I watch as Stefano pegs the ball harder and higher, with Brendan matching each rise in energy. There’s so much anger and frustration behind every one of Stefano’s throws, but Brendan’s enthusiasm is wearing him down. I can feel it. The joy that emanates from that dog is contagious.
Marco’s sitting beside me, drawing in the sand with a stick. I watch him quietly. Here is where some meddling grown-up might consider it their duty to conduct a patronising interrogation. But I know he’ll say something when he’s good and ready. Soon enough, he stops and drops the stick. “How do you know that nonno could hear me when I was at the hospital?”
“Nonno was in a coma, Marco. And lots of people wake up from their comas and they say they could hear everything people were talking about.”
“But nonno didn’t wake up. He’ll never be able to tell me if that happened.”
“We just have to believe that all those people who did actually wake up aren't lying. Nonno knew you and Stefano were there. He just couldn’t tell you.”
“I gave him a kiss and a hug. Did he know that too?”
“When people are really sick like that, sometimes they hang on long enough to make sure everyone is OK. They wait till we’re there, and when they’ve seen us all, they know it’s alright for them to let go.”
Marco turns to me, his brow furrowed. “How do you know all this?”
I can see the battle going on in his mind. It’s written all over his innocent little face. It’s leaping out at me through his large eyes, pleading with me to give him the answer he needs.
“I know cause it happened when my mum died. She was really sick just like nonno.”
Marco nods slowly, then turns back to his sand drawing. After a few moments of scratching, he pipes up again. “So you think nonno is happy?”
My mind flashes to mum. Her intermittent reappearances. Those cherished glimpses of her loving presence I get when I need them the most. “I’m absolutely positive that he is, buddy.”
***
Back at the house, Valentina has laid out milk and some kind of homemade cookies in the lounge room for the boys. From my vantage point near the couch, I can see her hobbling around the kitchen, slowly and painstakingly washing and stacking dishes. I’m in a bind here. Any other adult would rush to her and insist she rests while they take over. From what I’ve seen of her, though, she’s a staunch matriarch. Her home is her pride and joy, and the last thing she’ll want to be told is to go and lie down—especially at this moment. I know how important these mundane household tasks were after Mum died. Anything to keep busy, to avoid the incessant churning in my mind.
Once the boys have had their fill, I collect their glasses and plates and head to the kitchen. I stop in my tracks as I see Valentina braced with her arms against the counter and her head bowed. She’s perfectly still, taking slow, deep breaths. This is the point where I intervene. I need to choose my words wisely. Tone of voice is going to be paramount.
She hears me walk behind her to the sink. “I have headache,” she says primly, moving back to resume her dishwashing.
“I can do these if you’d like to go and spend a bit of time with the boys.” It’s an offer. She can say no and I’ll back off.
A few moments go by before she answers. “Yes. Thank you.” She leaves it at that, folding her tea towel and shuffling out of the room. I turn around and watch her leave. Her gait is heavy and slow. She's carrying the weight of the world and I can see the pain in every move of her body.
Turning back to the task at hand, I finish the last of the dishes, dry them and hunt round for their place in the cupboards. I take the opportunity to look over the beautiful articles she has on display: decorative earthenware platters, some antique china, a large intricately-cut glass bowl. I think of the perfectly-made bed I crawled into last night. Valentina cares about these things, and they’re slipping from her grasp. The ravages of time are taking what’s been precious to her all her life.
What do we have left when we no longer feel useful?