Epilogue One #2
“Yes,” I finally manage to say. “Your kindness is so unexpected.”
She grins. “If you think that’s unexpected, wait till you see my house.”
Her home is nestled on a hillside overlooking the sea. There are lemon trees in the yard and vines crawling up the stone walls like nature’s graffiti. Inside, it smells like basil and roses, and there’s a nature-like feel to the décor because everywhere you look there are plants and fresh herbs.
She grins when she sees my reaction. “Plants make me feel good,” she says with a smile. “They’re like children to me.”
“Do you have children?”
She shakes her head. “My body wouldn’t let me. I thought about adopting, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Now I just have my plants and old Oscar.”
A mangy-looking cat appears at her door. He looks like he’s seen some shit with the way his wide eyes stare up at me, his tan fur nothing but bald spots and patches along his back and head. There’s a chunk of his ear missing, and his tail seems shorter than it should be.
He yowls, and it comes out cankerous and annoyed.
“He’s a hungry little thing.”
“He’s… um…”
She laughs. “Deranged and slightly unhinged? I know. That’s why I love him. Reminds me of my first husband. That’s why I named him Oscar. It’s after the grumpiest man in all of Italy.”
“What happened to him?”
“He’s still alive, much to my dismay. He’s a bread hating, womanizer, with a bit of a bald spot.
I just couldn’t stay married to someone who doesn’t love bread.
As a baker that’s just blasphemy. I kicked his old behind to the curb the first time he turned his nose up at my Italian loaf. The man had no taste whatsoever.”
The first laugh I’ve had in weeks escapes my lips, surprising me. “He cheated on you, and you were angrier about the bread?”
She winks. “You haven’t tried my Italian loaf yet. A woman is an easy thing to replace, but a good loaf of bread—” She lets the conversation die there, never finishing her sentence.
“Anyway, when you’re ready, you can tell me about the man you’re running from.”
“I’m not running from a man.”
She smiles. “Don’t lie. I may have just met you, but your eyes betray you. You still love him, and that’s what haunts you the most. It’s easier to run from what we love than it is to fight for it. That’s why most marriages fail. People just don’t fight hard enough for it.”
“I was never married.”
She examines my hand and her eyebrow raises.
I hide it instinctively, forgetting I still have my mother’s ring on my finger. He doesn’t get this one back. This one is mine.
“We never got that far. I left him before… honestly, it doesn’t really matter. He’s not worth thinking about right now.”
Nonna Etti laughs. “And yet it’s him that consumes your thoughts and holds onto your heart. Stay here as long as you like, but it’s not going to ease your pain. Until you face it head on, you’re always going to feel him right here.” She points to her heart.
It sucks that she’s right. There might be an ocean between us, but I can still feel Eddie like he’s right here. That I took a part of him with me that I’ll never be able to let go.
A whole month has passed since I left the States. Every day he calls, and every day I receive a new message. Not a single one has been listened to, and every text he sends is immediately deleted. I haven’t had the heart to block him yet, but I plan to, just not the way everyone expects.
My hair whips behind me as I stand on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast ocean that spans out before me. Somewhere on the other side of the horizon Eddie is waiting for me… or maybe he’s already moved on.
There’s a small fragment inside me that envisions him in a catatonic state, standing at the airport every time another plane comes in, hoping to God I’m on that flight. But I know that’s just wishful thinking.
Eddie will eventually move on.
Much like I have to right now.
I press my phone to my chest, eyes fixated on the horizon, my breath stalling as I take in the ambiance of the Mediterranean that sparkles like crushed sapphires underneath the Tuscan sun.
The phone rings for a final time.
His name illuminates the screen and pulses like my irregular heartbeat.
I don’t want to be found.
Not yet.
Hell, maybe not ever.
I’ve missed so many calls and texts from him and Poppy too. But none of them are answered, even when they were begging me to come home or call.
How can someone feel so lost and alone when everyone is clamoring for me to return? Because that’s what I feel every time this damn phone rings.
Lost…
Helpless…
Tethered to the past…
I’ve thrown up more times than I can count, depression eating me from the inside out. I only eat because Nonna Etti forces me, and even then, it’s bits and pieces.
I can’t continue living like this. The only way this will work is to cut myself off from everyone and everything.
The wind continues to play with my wild strands as I walk barefoot down the rocky path leading to the beach, the water lapping against the shore like it’s whispering secrets. My toes dip into the heated currents, heart twisting as I reach out to touch the horizon, wishing it was him.
“I have to let you go!” I shout, though I’m the only one who can hear me. “To truly move on, I need to fully detach. This is the only way,” I shout, though it’s softer and more vulnerable.
On the screen is a picture of me and Eddie. We’re both smiling—happy. How is it that one person can burn it all away? She’s a selfish whore who ruined everything we worked so hard to hold together, just because of her jealousy.
“All I hope is you find happiness,” I whisper, brushing my finger over his face. “I’ll never love anyone like I loved you, but the pain has to stop. I can’t continue living as an empty shell.”
Before I can rethink it, I chuck the phone as an offering to the depths of the ocean. It arcs through the air like a bird in flight before vanishing into the sea with a quiet splash.
No more missed calls.
No more ties.
They can live with their betrayal without me, because I’m no longer willing to hold on to the pieces of something that never deserved to be broken.
When I return, the sky’s dimmed to a neutral gold, and I find Nonna Etti pruning tomatoes in the garden. She looks up, her eyes narrowing as I walk toward her.
“You look different,” she states.
I smile. “Saltwater is more soothing than you think.”
She shakes her head, coming closer. Her gaze rakes over me before pressing a wrinkled hand to my cheek.
“It’s not the sea. It’s you, Amber.” Her tone shifts, turning curious. “You glow like a woman carrying new life.”
I freeze, fingers twitching at my side as my stomach knots and twists uncomfortably.
“I’m not—” I start, but stop shortly after, my mind racing with possibilities I never thought of.
Am I?
“Sometimes the body knows before the heart is ready.” Wisdom clouds her eyes, those wrinkled hands trembling as she takes a step back to admire me. “I’d say at least a month maybe two.”
I laugh nervously. “Etti, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not that. I’m just in a depression.”
“And yet you throw up every morning.” I don’t like the way her eyes are twinkling. It’s mischievous and playful, and eluding to things I’m not ready for.
Before I can argue more, she’s back to pruning, humming softly as the sun bathes her in its warm glow.
My hand finds its way to my belly, resting there like it’s waiting for a response.
She sheepishly looks away when I catch her smirking, both of us knowing what’s happening to me without really saying it out loud.
The weight of it all humbles me.
I made this move to start over, and find peace within the madness. I wanted to forget about everything and never look back. But I can’t do that now. Not if what we’re thinking is true.
Eventually they’ll both need to know.
The question is, when will I feel strong enough to tell them?