22. What is wrong with me?
TWENTY-TWO
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
V anessa disappears in the shadows, and I don’t follow.
What is wrong with me?
I should have known that after the workshop, Vanessa might have been horny. I certainly was.
Ropes have a way of letting buried emotions rise to the surface, and despite the very platonic nature of our time together this evening—before the bedroom incident—bondage can be very sexual.
And I took advantage of that.
She showed up in her little negligee, her body barely concealed by the cardigan she wore. And I just stopped thinking. It’s been such a long time that I’ve felt so attracted to someone who doesn’t go to the club. There, everything is transactional and though a few play partners have invited me to take things outside, I’ve always refused.
With Vanessa, it’s different. I know how kind she is. I know what she does on school nights and weekends. She has this calming presence I’m drawn to, this sunshine I want to bask in. She’s amazing with my kids and even my parents are starting to carve out a place for her in their hearts. I know the truth of who she is, and now I know what she looks like when she comes.
And my God , when she called me ‘Daddy’ I could have come right there and then. I swipe a hand to my face and go to my children’s bedroom.
The nightlight sends stars and moons to the ceiling. Livia sits on her bed, clutching her brother’s teddy to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Anton is half-asleep, mindlessly patting her hand and giving words of reassurance. The wails that break my heart stop as I enter the room and make my way to them.
It’s a daily ritual by now.
I kiss my son’s brow and he falls back asleep immediately, then I lift Livia into my arms. I squeeze her body to my chest, trying my best to give her enough comfort and reassurance that I’m not going anywhere. Her tiny arms and hands link around my neck, strangling me with the force of her panic. I don’t mind it. I’ll be whatever she needs me to be.
Livia’s been having nightmares ever since her mother left and I don’t need to be a child therapist to know what they are about.
As I settle into the lounge yellow seat that Monica used to nurse her in, I hum a lullaby. Livia’s favourite.
O ciucciarella, nun sai quantu ti adoru,
Le to bellezze, le to cullane d’oru,
Ciucciarella inzuccarata,
Quantu hè longa sta nuttata,
Fà la ninna, fà la nanna,
U to babbu hè à la campagna,
My mother used to sing it to me as a kid, and I never forgot the words. It’s about a father who loves his daughter so much he cares for the land around her, so she grows to love it as well.
I tried once to sing about a family of turtles, Livia cried harder because she doesn’t have a mum like the baby turtle.
I rock her side to side in my arms as I hum the tune again and again. Within a few minutes, Livia goes limp against my chest, the teddy falling to the floor. I don’t pick it up. Instead, I close my eyes and inhale her soft baby smell. Even as she grows older, it still feels like she is just an hour old when the nurses put her in my arms for the first time. I’d take all her nightmares away if I could; I’d slay her demons, protect her with all I have. But this monster is beyond my reach, and it might be time for her to see someone who can truly help her.
I listen to Livia’s breathing, and when I’m sure she won’t wake up again, I lay her in her bed and pull the covers up, placing the teddy I rescue from the floor in her arms.
Anton is fast asleep, the Paw Patrol sheets thrown to the bottom of the bed. I lay a kiss on his forehead and cover him as well so he won’t get cold. I do it as much for him as I do it for me.
When I’m back in bed, sleep doesn’t come. I lie awake, thinking about soft olive skin, dark curls and pink lips. If my children were to find her inside the house at night, inside my room, they’d be upset, and for good reason. I can’t do this to them.
Vanessa might have made me feel alive for the first time in years, but it’s not her responsibility. And my family needs stability more than anything right now. She’s a storm. A perfect storm disguised as sunshine.
By the time I force myself to stop thinking about her, the sun has risen behind the curtains. I take an ice-cold shower and prepare myself for the conversation that needs to happen between my employee and I.
Me
Come early today.
It sounds brutal and like I’m going to fire her. Jesus, why is this so hard?
Me
Please.
I distract myself by preparing Livia and Anton’s breakfast and working on the financial reports for Alana. I even text Pierce to ask him to lunch. His response has me rolling my eyes.
Pierce
If this is code for ‘I’ve been abducted, come get me’, send me an emoji.
Me
It’s not. And which emoji? Be clear.
Pierce
Who are you and what have you done with Lino Marquesi?
Me
You’re tiresome. Lunch at 1pm? I’m buying.
Pierce
I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my friend.
Me
I’m not your friend, this is a lunch between colleagues.
Pierce
Whatever helps you sleep at night.
Pierce is as stern as I am, but he’s the only one that I tolerate, along with Alana. He doesn’t fill the silence with empty words and incessant chatter. Maybe I do need a friend. The only people I interact with are my children, my parents, and people at Lady In White. And when I go there, it’s not to talk.
Even when we were married, Monica and I didn’t talk either. This loneliness and heaviness have been with me before I met her. When I really think about it, this has been weighing me down since my teenage years. Like my brain didn’t know how to process emotions and left me with this instead. It stayed, despite longing for a deep connection with my then-wife. I thought we did have it.
At first, she was charming, smiling all the time. I planned all our dates as a boyfriend should. Seduced her with flowers, restaurants, romantic picnics and trips to Europe. I pretended to be fine that I almost believed it myself.
Sex was a battle of will and I thought that’s what I wanted. It was passionate, and we often ended up bruised and bitten, both wanting to dominate the other. I should have known it wouldn’t work then. Not only because we weren’t compatible in bed, but because she always commented how she would have done our dates differently if she’d been the one organising. I loved how driven she was, how focused and secure enough to tell me her truths. But it was never truths . It was only how she thought I failed her.
She got pregnant with Anton by accident and I married her, sealing our miserable fates until it was too much for her.
I hate that she’s left. I hate that she prioritised herself over our children. But the guilt I feel and the shame I carry is because, deep down, I’m grateful she did. I don’t have to look at her disappointment to add to my negative mindset every day. I don’t have to hear how sluggish I become when the clouds grow too big, how I’m not ‘the man she thought I was’. It’s still hard to breathe most days, but when she was here, I suffocated every single minute we were together.
I look up at the clock. Ten to eight, and still, Vanessa hasn’t showed up. My phone shows that she hasn’t read my texts. I pace, nervous energy building and spilling over into my veins.
“Are you okay, babbu ?” Anton asks, his eyes seeing too much for his young age.
“I’m nervous, picculinu . I have a big day at work today.” Only half of my answer is a lie.
At eight on the dot, Vanessa struts in, wearing the yellow sundress embroidered with dark purple figs that hugs her figure. It’s my favourite. Golden sandals adorn her feet and I can’t help but let my gaze climb up her perfect body until it meets hers. I know what she looks like underneath and the thought is a threat to my already crumbling walls.
She avoids my eyes and greets the children.
“Anything I should know for today, Mr Marquesi?” Her voice is too high pitched to be sincere.
I take a step forward, so close I can see her squirm. I wish I could graze my fingers against her bare arms. “We need to talk.”
“Okay, why don’t we talk tonight? We don’t want to be late for school, do we, Anton?” She uses my son as a shield and it works, the little demon jumping off his stool and running to get his backpack, waiting in the hallway, while she picks Livia up and walks to the buggy to strap her in.
I grind my teeth. If I thought Vanessa Winfrey was an obedient girl, she just proved me wrong. And I find it endearing. I watch as she gets ready with Anton and Livia, my heart softening, the clouds turning to a lighter shade of grey in my head.
She is so effortless. She smiles and jokes with Anton and Livia, her laughter echoing against the walls of a home that hasn’t heard such a sound in far too long, if ever.
If only…
I shake my head and straighten from the wall I was leaning against to admire what my life could look like in an alternative reality.
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll be home early.”
She nods absent-mindedly and I leave to go to my car. My eyes barely leave the rearview mirror as I watch my family going to school with what could be .
“ I kissed my nanny.”
The fork stops on its way to Pierce’s mouth, which hangs open in shock. Then his face morphs to delight as he drops his food back down to his plate.
“Didn’t think you had it in you, Lino,” Pierce says nonchalantly like I’m not unravelling.
“What do I do?”
He blinks once. Twice.
I look around us in the high-end restaurant in the centre of Sant Armellu but no one’s here. We opted for a late lunch and most patrons have already vacated the classic French brasserie. with mirrors on every wall, black and white octagonal tiles on the floor and a hardwood bar.
I stare at Pierce. I’m hoping he can guide me in this situation. Where I was alone to deal with most things with Monica—my parents excluded, but they were as out of their depth as I was—I don’t want to be when it comes to Vanessa. I won’t make the same mistakes again.
Pierce reclines in his chair, observing me with a critical eye.
“Take your time,” I snap, snarky and impatient.
“Oh, I will. It’s not every day the impenetrable Lino Marquesi says something more than a grunt.”
“And you’re making me regret it,” I groan.
I move my chair back from the table, but Pierce clicks his tongue. “You have no sense of humour. Does the girl know that?”
“She did call me an asshole multiple times.”
He snorts but doesn’t comment. “Tell me more about her,” he demands.
I could wax poetic about how much I enjoy watching her with my children, how she’s pure sunshine when I’ve been left in rainy days all my life, how her little embroidered clothes make me smile, albeit internally, and how I long to glide my fingers through her soft chestnut hair. Instead, what comes out of my mouth is, “She’s working for me. Alana introduced us.”
“Ah yes, I remember. Vanessa, was it? And?”
“And that’s immoral.”
“More immoral than you watching her on your little security app?” he asks with a smirk and I curse myself. Of course, he’d find out about this, with his background in cyber-security. My teeth grind together with displeasure at being called out. I don’t regret it though, so I stay silent.
“I guess not,” he continues. “What’s the problem, other than she is your employee? That can easily be changed.”
“I can’t have my children be confused.”
“And she’s okay being your little secret fuck?” he asks with a raised brow.
I don’t tell him that I’m not fucking her, or that I want to show her off to the entire world. “I don’t think she’d like that, no,” I simply answer.
“I think you’re hiding behind your children and you know it, Lino. If you want to be with her, you tell your children and make it happen. They already love her, don’t they?” I nod. “Then be a partner. Find a solution together. Is she against it?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Wait a minute, she doesn’t know you like her? Or she doesn’t know you want her?”
“Both,” I answer sheepishly.
“Why didn’t you tell her how you feel?”
“It just happened yesterday. I need more time.” I cringe because I’m already out here asking for advice when it comes to her, while she doesn’t even know how much I want her, how much I crave her.
“You want more time to know how you feel about her or for her to show you that she’ll leave like your ex-wife did?”
I glide my tongue over my teeth and take a deep inhale that I release slowly.
“Look, I don’t need to be a shrink to know your hang-ups. But you need to figure that shit out with one if you want to give this girl what she deserves. And if Alana introduced her to you, you better not hurt her or you’ll lose your dick,” he half-jokes.
Knowing Alana, she’d be capable of it and worse.
The suggestion to see a therapist makes my skin crawl. I despise the idea of a stranger looking into my memories and judging the choices I’ve made. Or worse, to tell me there’s actually something wrong with me. If I’m unfit to be a father, they could take my children away from me, or Monica could win custody if she ever re-appears.
“Pierce, I have a favour to ask.”
“Yes, I’ll find your ex-wife,” he says before shoving a piece of steak into his mouth and taking a sip of red wine.
I’m not shocked he knew where my thoughts were going. If I want to move on, I have to find closure. Not everything is related to my ex-wife, but she’s a big key to facing my bad memories and healing from them.