51
GAbrIELA DUARTE
Luca asked me for an hour.
He texted after we finished the lunchbox call. I waited until the children were asleep, then asked him to come to the guesthouse. I chose the side veranda, away from their bedroom window. Cris would stay upstairs. I thought we could talk without being overheard.
A light rain pattered on the clay roof tiles. Luca remained standing until I sat down.
“I’m not going to ask you to come back to me,” he began.
“That’s already an improvement.”
He took the sarcasm without reacting.
“I want to hear what you couldn’t tell me at the hospital.”
I folded my arms.
“Then listen. I don’t know how this conversation is going to end.”
He nodded. The sound of rain filled the silence between us.
I looked out at the rain.
“I still think about that check.”
Luca stared at his hands.
“So do I.”
“That night, I tried to explain the dates, to show you the results. You looked at me as if even my tears were rehearsed. Then you opened your checkbook.
“It was as if you wanted to pay me to disappear because I’d ruined your day.”
“I wanted to hurt you. I knew you needed money, and I used it.”
My throat tightened.
“The bleeding started at the hotel. When I remember it, I still see my wet dress.”
Luca rested his elbows on his knees. He already knew about the hemorrhage; now he watched me without asking questions.
“The doctor had to show me the images more than once. I couldn’t take in that there were three. Paola arrived in the early hours. Cris came at the beginning of the afternoon. They were the ones who stayed with me while I waited to hear from you.”
He closed his eyes but didn’t interrupt.
“Then I went back to Lisbon, sold equipment, and closed the office. The balance for my work at the Palazzo was paid, but I still had bills and a company falling apart. I was ashamed of needing help. Every expense seemed to prove what you’d accused me of.”
Luca was still pale.
“In Brazil, my mother brought me food. Cris took on what he could. I’d thank them and then cry where no one could see me, furious that I couldn’t manage everything myself. I spent a long time trying to prove, even to myself, that I didn’t want your money.”
Luca lowered his eyes to his hands. I waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, I went on.
“The boys came home before Camila. I’d walk into the house and see two cribs with babies in them and the third one empty. My mother stayed with the boys so I could go back to the NICU. Whenever I was with one, I felt I was abandoning the others.”
Luca drew a deep breath. A sheet of paper showed in his pocket when he moved, but he didn’t take it out.
“Camila was in the hospital for ninety-one days. She had her first surgery before she came home. I was afraid to sleep in case something happened while I was away.”
My voice broke. I drank some of the water I’d left on the table.
“Sometimes I was angry with her for still not being able to come home. Then I felt so guilty I couldn’t tell anyone. She was my daughter, so tiny, and I just wanted to take all three of them home. I didn’t want to be strong. I wanted to stop being afraid.”
Luca ran his hands over his face. For a moment, I saw the question he didn’t ask: why I’d never told him any of this. He knew the answer.
Tears ran down his face. He didn’t try to hide them.
“I should have been there.”
“I know you’re sorry. And I hate that part of me wants to comfort you right now.”
“You don’t have to take care of me.”
I pulled my hand back from the table. I’d almost reached for him.
Rain filled the silence between us. Luca took a folded sheet from his pocket but didn’t hand it to me.
“I tried to write everything down before I came. Now I can’t even unfold it.”
“Why did you bring it?”
“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to speak.”
I almost smiled, but it hurt too much.
“What do you want from me, Luca?”
“I want you back.”
I stayed quiet, hoping he wouldn’t add anything. He did.
“I want to wake up in the same house and hear our children arguing over breakfast. I want a life we never got to have.”
I waited.
“But I know I can’t ask for that. I want to be their father, Gabi. Even if you never love me again.”
“What if I’m with someone else?”
Pain crossed his face.
“It’ll hurt,” he said. “But I won’t interfere in your life.”
“And you expect me to forget what happened?”
“No. But I still love you.”
“It still hurts to hear that,” I replied.
“And I’m not going to spend the next few years teaching you how not to hurt me,” I added.
Luca took a breath before answering.
“I’ll have to learn without expecting you to stay beside me while I do.”
He looked older than he had in Italy. I waited for a plea, some gesture that would make it impossible to stay in my chair. Luca looked down at the crumpled sheet.
“I can’t forgive you now.”
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“Maybe I never will.”
He paled, but nodded.
“I’ll still be at the school tomorrow.”
I heard a noise upstairs and glanced toward the door. Then came Cris’s voice, low, calling to one of the children. I stood.
“Your hour’s up.”
Luca stood too.
“Thank you for telling me.”
He headed for the door. As he reached it, I noticed the sheet still folded in his hand.
“What are you going to do with the letter?”
Luca looked at it.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to read it again tonight.”
He crossed the veranda and went down the steps into the rain. I watched until he turned the corner, the sheet stuffed into his pocket. I didn’t call him back.
Cris came down a little later with a blanket. Camila had called for him while he was with the boys in their room; now all three seemed to be asleep. He held out the blanket when he saw my hands.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m angry.”
“I know.”
I gripped the fabric.
“Part of me wanted him to defend himself. It would be easier if he said Lorenzo had tricked him, that he’d been traumatized, that he’d had his reasons. I’d know exactly where to put all this anger.”
“And now?”
“Now he agrees with me. And that doesn’t give me anything back.”
Cris sat on the step without suggesting forgiveness or telling me again that Luca seemed to have changed.
“Do you want me to stay a while?”
Camila called again. I left the blanket on the chair and went upstairs. Before I entered the room, I stopped in the hallway to wipe my face.