39. Isabel
The second Roman entered the room, I felt his presence, and the intensity of his gaze tracing my back. No one else could occupy time and space as he did without uttering a word. He simply carried with him a tangible aura that manifested itself in the air wherever he went.
I had two choices, acknowledge him or completely ignore him. I refused to pay heed to him because God only knew what power he still had over me. It was one thing to disregard his texts and voicemails. But it was another to feel him standing a few feet away from me. I didn’t dare turn around.
But this was my chance, I decided, to tell him that my biggest desire now was to hate him, to recoil at the thought of him touching me and that I couldn’t wait for the day when he became nothing more than a vague repulsive memory somewhere in the darkest corner of my mind.
And even if none of that would ever be true, I wanted him to hurt and suffer as much as I did. Not that I thought he ever would. As if the type of person who would do this kind of thing could ever felt terrible about doing it.
But when he walked around to the other side of Henry’s bed and demanded I look at him, the frenzy I was quietly working myself into dissipated into thin air. Roman looked like he hadn’t slept at all, his eyes two dark pools of anguish, the talking vein and the tic in his jaw vibrating in tandem. His mouth was set in a grim line, as if seeing me was cutting him wide open.
For the briefest of moments, all I wanted to do was crawl into his arms and beg him to make all this pain go away. But then the picture of Roman kissing Celeste on the nape of her neck danced across my vision and the nausea returned in full force.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
I had to hand it to this guy, he didn’t miss a beat. He acted like the tortured lover, confused about why any of this was happening. And he was very good, so good that I was beginning to feel my steely determination to push through, falter and wane.
I scraped together whatever courage I could find because I wanted to look him in the eye when I told him. “I can’t do this anymore… It was a mistake,” I said.
He leaned forward, as if to imprint the words into my mind. “You can’t do what anymore, Isabel?”
For some reason it suddenly didn’t seem like he was acting. I could feel his frustration down to my core, the plea in his voice impossible to ignore. I had to remind myself that it was all just a game to him, that he wasn’t genuine.
I lowered my gaze again, not trusting myself to resist him much longer. “This… Us,” I whispered, my heart breaking all over again at the finality of those words. A sharp pain lodged itself in my chest.
His phone beeped and I wondered if it was a message from Celeste, perhaps planning their next rendezvous. I sighed and continued reading to Henry. I wanted Roman to leave so I could just yield to all this misery in private.
God only knew how much pleasure he’d get out of me falling apart in front of him. A few tears escaped, hard as I tried to bite them back. But he didn’t seem to find any pleasure in seeing them.
Instead, he walked to my side and gently placed his fingers over the nape of my neck. I didn’t want to react to his touch, but I did. That stupid shiver jostled like a drunken party girl up and down my spine. And then he had to kiss my cheek, a whiff of his smell bringing back all those incredible moments when Roman made me believe that I was all he needed in this world.
“You know where to find me if there’s anything you want to talk about,” he said, with such explicit determination that I almost believed him. “We’re not leaving this here.”
Then he left, and I was engulfed in this aching desolation. That was it, the whirlwind love affair that took my breath away was over. I sat there for a very long time, not reading, just watching Henry and wondering if he was aware that his parenting skills left a lot to be desired.
It wasn’t as if Roman hadn’t warned me that night at the Belmont Hotel. And it wasn’t as if Celeste hadn’t warned me too. I had to admit that this entire trainwreck was on me. It would be hours before Emily was back at the house and I could talk to her. There was no question that I was resigning, but I wanted to know that she wouldn’t give up on Henry.
I wondered if things would go back to the way they were before I came here. Someone reading Grapes or Wrath to Henry with Bach squealing in the background, the drapes drawn and the room again rendered in perpetual tones of sepia. No fairy lights.
And there was also the question of whether to leave or take Francis the bear.
Someone cleared their throat, pulling me out of my reverie. It was Sophia, looking inconsolable. For a dreadful moment, I thought she and James had had a fight, but it turned out to be her chocolate éclairs receiving a lukewarm welcome.
James, being the hero every woman should strive for, had gobbled up five éclairs to show Sophia how much he loved her pastries. Her slight hysteria didn’t make her English any better, so most of our conversation was in Italian.
It took a while to convince Sophia her the éclairs were very good, considering they were her first effort. I even lied and said that my first attempt at chocolate éclairs was disastrous.
When she finally stopped sobbing, she stared at me with big eyes. “You look terrible, Isabel,” she said. “What is going on? It is the bastardo again?”
Great, now she speaks English. Not that I thought Roman was on tenterhooks listening to my conversations in this room anymore. For all I knew he was busy exchanging cute and funny text messages with Celeste and hadn’t given me another thought.
If he knew it was over, he was probably on to his next conquest. Like he didn’t have an empire to run. And me, I was just another notch in his bedpost that was now done and dusted.
“Listen to me, Sophia,” I said with as much certainty as I could muster. “Emily said she’d look into you going to culinary school. The next time you see her, remind her that you’re still interested, okay?”
“Why do you talk like this? Like you won’t be here anymore. You teach me to cook, si?”
I evaded the question. “Take the opportunity to go to culinary school, Sophia. They know a lot more than I do. And at lunchtime I’ll go to the library and see what recipe books they have there. They’ll be a good start at least.”
New tears formed in Sophia’s eyes. “Grazie, Isabel. We will call, si?”
“Of course, we can talk any time.”
For a while after Sophia left, my heart was thumping out of control at the realization that I might not come to this place again. That I wouldn’t see the staff members again. That I would never see the library again. And that all the memories I made here were locked inside these walls forever. Memories I wanted to forget, and at the same time never forget.
I held Henry’s hand and it wasn’t lost on me that I was trying to find solace with a man who was literally fighting for his life. Tears spilled over my cheeks, and I buried my face in the bed to muffle any sound lest Roman was listening.
And then, just as I resigned myself to the inevitable fact that I wouldn’t be here for Henry anymore, I felt something. It was Henry’s hand pressing into mine, and it wasn’t as light or delicate as before. This was Henry attempting to either comfort me or tell me he was there.
I was frozen, frantically hanging onto the moment. Suddenly it wasn’t such a farfetched notion that Henry might be more aware of his surroundings than anyone thought.
It hit me then that the only one who was going to suffer at the end of the day was this poor man. And here I was deserting him because I was a weak, silly girl who allowed herself to be charmed by his son the pretender. At the same time, I was also not stupid enough to think that staying on at Belmont Manor would be super-beneficial for my mental health.
It had become very important to have a serious talk with Emily. First of all, I needed to tell her that the tests they did on Henry, the ones that said he’d improved only slightly, were bullshit because he was definitely in there.
None of the hand-squeezing was mere reflex, as the doctor suggested. On some unconscious level, Henry knew what was happening.
And secondly, maybe, just maybe Emily’s side of the story regarding Roman was more innocent than I imagined. Who said she was aware of everything he did? She could have been genuinely fooled by him too. Which didn’t explain why she was so forgiving about Roman putting Henry in a coma. To me that was incomprehensible.
I continued reading to Henry, counting the hours until Emily returned home. Meg texted me.
Meg:Crazy question. So, I take it the contract deal with the dessert menu is off?
Me: I can’t imagine that’s a go at this point.
Meg:Shit. I was going to send him a bill that would pay our rent for a year.
Me: I’m sorry, Meg.
Meg:Not your fault. How are you holding up?
Me: Henry just squeezed my hand. He’s in there, I know he is.
Meg:Oh fuck. You’re gonna stay, aren’t you?
Me: It all depends on how my talk with Emily goes.
Meg:On the one hand, I say good for you, fuck that monster. On the other hand, it might wreck you to stay at that place.
Me: Can’t get any more wrecked than I already am.
Meg:Then again, it’s a big place. You stay in your corner, he stays in his, and everything’s cool.
Me: Ideally, yes.
Meg:Can’t believe I’m going to say this, but deep inside I’m still thinking it’s all a big mix-up, you know.
Me: Photos don’t lie.
Meg:I hear you. Are you gonna be okay to dance tonight?
Me: It’s what keeps me going.
Meg: There’s still that small part in me hoping for you and Sergei…
Me: Please don’t. Not now.
Meg: Just sayin’.
Me: Nurses will be here soon, I’ve got to go.
Meg:Who loves you?
Me: You do. Love you back, more than you know.
A few minutes later the nurses sauntered in. It was time to go to lunch, and since I promised Sophia I’d look for recipe books, I left for the library. Not that I didn’t wonder if that was such a great idea. The last person I wanted to run into was Roman. But then again, chances were slim and none.
He saw, he conquered, he came. In that order. His ego was stroked, among other things, and I was of no use to him anymore. It was with this reassurance that I figured it was safe to go to the library.