Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
E lisabetta
The cool breeze plays with my hair as I make my way down the path. It’s a nice day out, and I’m grateful that the gardens are private. As I turn the corner, near a tall statue of one of the Roman gods, I see a table. There’s a nurse standing there with a book in her hand and a lady sitting in a flowery yellow and white dress. As I make my way closer, I recognize my mother. Not from some deep-seated intuition, but because looking at her face is like looking in a mirror. Albeit a mirror where I now have wrinkles.
My pace increases as I get closer to my mother. She’s sipping tea, but she must sense me approaching because she turns to me with a wide smile.
“ Buongiorno .” The nurse nods and moves a few feet away to another table. I nod at her and continue toward my mother. I stop about two feet away and just stare at her.
My heart is racing. The entire moment is surreal. Out of a fantasy movie. I can’t believe she is here in front of me. She’s alive.
“Elisabetta, what a beauty you are,” she says in a wisp of a voice before patting the seat next to her. “Please sit.”
I glide to the seat and sit. I want to hug her or kiss her on the cheek, but I feel shy. She is still, after all, a stranger to me.
“Hi,” I say finally, feeling like a first grader on my first day of school, wanting to make friends but feeling shy. I stare into her familiar brown eyes, so much like my own. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“Your father didn’t think I should refuse.” Her voice is heavily accented, which surprises me, as I’d never expected that. “I was pleased to meet you again, of course.” She’s overly polite, and I feel a sense of disappointment. I’d expected an immediate connection with her. Expected her to jump up and hold me close. Hoped she’d hold me to her and cry and tell me she regretted everything. But this meeting feels stifled, stiff, cold almost. It is true that we are virtually strangers, but she is my mother. The cool air whips past my face, and a shiver runs down my spine as I watch her playing with a butter knife on the table.
She tried to harm you. My father’s words reverberate in my head, and I wonder if she’s thinking of doing that now. I am relieved when she once again sips her tea and moves her hand away from the knife.
“I should have said I am pleased, not was.” She stills suddenly, and her breath catches. “You must hate me.”
I want to immediately tell her that I don’t, yet I don’t want to lie. I don’t know how I feel anymore. Every emotion in me is confused and conflicted. My entire life feels like it has been built upon a house of manipulation and untruths.
“I don’t know that I hate you,” I say finally. “Maybe I’m just hurt. Hurt at you. Hurt at dad.” Hurt at Liam, the voice whispers in my head, and I want to cry. I am not going to think about him right now. He should be the last thing on my mind, yet somehow his deception has affected me the most. Made me want to die. Made me want to pull out my own heart. My mother starts humming, and I watch as she stands up and dances around the garden. She’s more petite than I imagined she would be as she spins and laughs.
“ Ti ho amato da bambino e ti amo ancora di più ora. Non capirai mai cosa significhi rinunciare a chi ha il tuo cuore,” she sings in her girlish voice. I have no idea what she is saying, but the sound soothes me.
“Dance with me, Little Betta.” She grabs my hand and pulls me up. I stand there awkwardly as she continues to move and dance. “ Vorrei stare bene. Vorrei poter essere nella tua vita. Vorrei che tu potessi sentire quanto ti amo.”
Her voice cracks slightly, and I watch as she starts skipping, almost as if she were a little girl. She turns to look at me, and her face is alight with joy and happiness. “Dance, little Betta,” she says again, and because I love her and want to make her happy, I dance. Slowly at first. I feel awkward and stupid, and I can see the nurse watching us from her table, but as my mother continues singing, I allow myself to sway to the beat. Tears fill my heart because as much as I love finally having met her, I can tell she is unwell. I can tell that in some ways she isn’t any more mature than me. And it makes me feel weak and scared because I don’t understand it.
“I am tired. I must sit,” she says by way of explanation as she suddenly stops dancing about five minutes later. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, no thank you.” I take my own seat and sit back. I’d come prepared to interrogate her. To demand answers to the hurt in my heart. To express my pain and the rejection I felt, but I know that none of it will resonate with my mother.
“Did you hear about the election?” she asks, and I shake my head. I’m not sure which election she’s talking about. “Your father says I shouldn’t talk about it, but I think it was planned.”
“What was planned?” I play with my fingers, surprised that my mother was into something like politics.
“The reptilians came and...”
“Now, now...” The nurse rushes over to her. “You mustn’t upset yourself, Violeta.”
“But I just want her to know what we are up against.” She leans towards me. “They are after me, you know.”
“Who is after you?” I swallow hard and look around. Is it true that I’d been right all along? Is my father in the mafia?
“The ones that control everything. They are spying on me.” She grabs her butter knife and pushes it into the air in a stabbing motion. “They will never get me, though.”
“Umm, what?” I frown. I have no idea what she’s talking about. I look around again to see if I can see anyone watching us.
“Your father is one of them,” she whispers, and I feel cold. What is she trying to tell me? I watch as she grabs her tea and sips it, closing her eyes and gripping the cup so tightly that I feel like the fine china might break.
“Is it safe for her here?” I whisper to the nurse, feeling worried. The nurse gives me a sympathetic look and nods. I can tell from her expression that this interaction with my mother is a common occurrence.
“It’s the illness,” the nurse says, a comforting smile on her face. “You are safe.” She walks back to the other table again and takes a seat.
“Are you married?” my mother suddenly asks, her eyes bright again. “You’re so very pretty in that dress. I suppose all the men must want to ask you out. Your father must be chasing them away with baseball bats.”
“He’s not, and I’m not married.” My heart sinks at the thought of marriage. “There was a man I thought I loved, though.”
“Thought?” My mother tilts her head to the side and frowns. “He hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Do I need to take care of him?” She looks at me with a protective glance, and my heart flips. “No one hurts my beautiful daughter.”
“No, it’s fine.” I laugh to lighten the mood. “How do you like being here?”
“Some days are great, like today, and other days, I feel like I’m in prison.” She sips her tea again. “This is cold.”
“Would you like some?—”
“It’s fine,” she says, shaking her hands. “I’m glad you are here with me.”
“I’m glad I’m here with you, as well.” I lick my lips nervously. “I can visit again, if you’d like.”
“I’d very much like that.” She nods, and without warning, she bursts into tears. I sit there, unsure what to do, but I find it in me to stand up and walk over to her and hold her close. She grabs ahold of my arms and sobs, deep, painful sobs that fill me with pain. Her body is frail next to mine, and as I lean back and look into her wild eyes, I can see that she’s not quite with me. She’s here, but she’s not.
“I love you very much, child,” she says finally. “All of my heart and all of my blessings have been put into you. You are the greatest gift that God has ever given me.” She laughs slightly. “Don’t tell your father I said that.”
“I won’t.” I feel tears coming to my ears and take a deep breath.
“Do not be sad.” She stands up and pulls me into a hug, holding me close to her heart. “Everything will be okay. Trust in God.” She pats my back and makes soothing noises, and it's as if I’ve been transported to my days as a baby. I can almost remember being in her arms, having her coddle me. I am safe and warm and loved. We stand there for about ten minutes, and I listen to her heart beating as she sings words I don’t understand into my ears. “I love you, little Betta,” she says finally, and I step back.
“I love you too, Momma.” I lightly kiss both sides of her cheeks, and she beams at me before taking a seat.
“I’m tired... Monica, I’m ready for a nap,” she calls over to the nurse who heads back. “Be safe, dear child.” She grabs my hands and squeezes it. “Do you know your way back?”
“Yes, I do.” I nod and squeeze her hand back. “I’ll see you again soon.”
“I would like that,” she murmurs as I head back down the garden path to the front of the facility, where my father’s driver is waiting to take me back to the villa.
I walk slowly, my head and heart full of love and frustration. I wanted so much from this meeting. I had so many questions. Yet, none of what I wanted to say had been said. I’m starting to realize that maybe none of those answers would ever come. Life brings us pain and joy, and sometimes, there is no resolution or solution to the holes left in our hearts. Everything isn’t just color or black and white. There isn’t always a right or wrong answer, and people do what they think is best, with only the information they have. I don’t fully understand my mother’s mental health issues or what she’s gone through, yet I know my mother and father made the decisions they thought were best for me and them.
I want to hate them for the secret. I want to scream and shout and blame all my wounds on them, but I have to give them grace.
My mind drifts to Liam as I enter the back of the waiting car. He lied to me. Omitted something huge from me that had the potential to destroy my life. And all for money. Yet, as we drive through the small, narrow roads and I stare at the lush, green fields and beautiful flowers, I’m reminded that there can be beauty in pain and sorrow. Liam also did the best he could with the information he’d gathered. And ultimately, he did tell me the truth.
I still love him.
I still want him.
But I don’t know how I could ever take him back into my life.
How I could ever trust that I could and would come first?
Because ultimately, what I want in life is true love.
A love that no other forces could ever come across.
And while I knew he is that for me, I don’t know if I’m that for him.