Chapter 19 Elena
E LENA
Elena stands under the hot water. The scalding heat burns the wounds on her skin that are still broken. It’s a good pain, a healing warmth to help wash away the trauma of what he did to her two nights ago on Christmas Day, on the eve of Papà’s funeral. When it was time for bed that night, Christian remembered and became annoyed that she’d used an unacceptable tone with him when she didn’t want to go out to see the art installations, so he set things straight .
The water pours on her now while she thinks.
Today’s the start of it. The escape. She’s twenty-eight years old, almost twenty-nine, and she’s hitting the reset button. Her thirties won’t be a repeat of the horror of her twenties. Some of the details of the escape are clear in her head, some not so clear. But whether she’s completely prepared or not, she’s going for it.
She looks at her wrists under the steam, at the red welts from his fingers that still circle them. Once these marks have faded, she’ll never again be in pain because of him. She’ll never go hungry, or feel her heart clench when he turns his key in the lock or when his face changes from a smile to something more sinister.
She mentally drafts the letter to Mamma. Then she steps out of the shower, leaving the water running, and wraps a towel around her body. She perches on the toilet with the hotel notepad and pen in her hands.
Please, God, keep him asleep while I do this.
With a shaking hand, she writes as quickly as she can.
Darling Mamma,
I’ve sent this woman to see you. Her name is Gayle Dawson, You can trust her.
I’m so sorry to burden you further when you’re already going through so much, but, Mamma, I’m in trouble. Big trouble. My marriage isn’t what it seems. Christian’s not a good man. He hurts me and he starves me. I have to escape while I’m here and you have to escape with me or he’ll come for you.
I know this is a shock, but we have no time to waste. This is what you need to do. Go to the bank and get as much cash as you can. If they let you take all your money in cash, take it all. Buy a new mobile phone and pay for it in cash. Pack your legal documents and your passport. Once you’ve done these things, stay home and wait for me.
When I get a chance, I’ll come for you before the end of our trip and we’ll leave together. I don’t know which day I’ll come or where we’ll go. We have to go far away so he can’t find us. Don’t pack a case – we need to travel lightly. You need to know, Mamma, that we won’t be returning to Venice for a long time, I’m sorry.
You mustn’t speak a word of this to your sisters. We can’t risk Christian finding out. When you see me with Christian, act as if nothing has changed or he’ll be suspicious.
I’m so sorry, Mamma. I’ll explain everything when we’re alone.
Love,
E x
P.S. I wanted to be there for Papà. Christian wouldn’t let me leave until he could come too. I’ll never forgive myself for not coming when you asked me to.
Without reading over what she’s written, she tears off the piece of paper and shoves it deep inside her make-up bag.
Then she starts a new note, this one in English.
Dear Gayle,
My mother’s name is Anna-Maria Zanetti, and her address is Calle Ghetto Vecchio 10257. Take water bus #1 or #2 from San Marco to San Marcuola stop. My mother’s apartment in the Jewish Ghetto is a short walk from there. She lives on the fourth floor in apt 404.
Could you please stay with her as she reads the letter? I don’t want her to be alone when she does, she knows nothing of my situation.
Thank you, Gayle, I’m indebted to you.
Elena
P.S. The reason I’m in Venice is for my father’s funeral, which was yesterday. The day Christian wouldn’t let me come home to see my dying father was the day I decided I would run.
She hides the note with the other letter. When she stands up, Christian’s behind her.
She gasps. ‘Jesus! You scared me.’
His eyebrows draw together. ‘Why’s the shower still on?’
‘Oh, it is too!’ She feigns surprise. ‘I was thinking about Papà. I didn’t realise I hadn’t turned it off.’
He leans across her and turns the tap off without taking his eyes off her. ‘Why are you shaking?’
‘I’m freezing.’ She gives a little shiver for effect.
He’s silent for a moment and then he pulls her in close. ‘Come here.’ He rubs his hands up and down her back. ‘That better?’
She nods, her heart still pounding.
He kisses the top of her head. ‘Babe, I want a quick shower myself before we head down.’
‘I’ll go get dressed.’
The letters in her make-up bag are a ticking bomb. The entire time he’s in the bathroom, she can barely breathe. She paces the suite like a caged animal.
Christian emerges in his boxer shorts, showered, smelling of aftershave and with styling product in his hair. He’s smiling; he didn’t find the letters.
Minutes later, they walk down the stairs hand in hand.
‘You’re taking it easy on the food today, remember, babe?’ he reminds her as they cross the lobby.
‘Yep.’ Her stomach growls as the smell of pancetta wafts from the restaurant.
They find a spare table and he pulls out a chair for her. ‘I’ll get you some water.’
He pours himself a coffee and brings their drinks to the table before he walks back to the buffet. She watches him load his plate with all the delicious things she’s desperate to eat.
He joins her at the table, cracking open an egg with the back of a spoon, and he reads the news on his phone while he eats.
Elena needs to get the letters to Gayle before he finishes eating, but she has to wait for the right moment. She sips at the water as the slow minutes pass. Her hands start to twitch, so she hides them under the table.
Gayle walks in with her husband, Mike. They’re in matching yellow polyester tracksuits bright enough to be seen from the moon. Mike ushers Gayle to a table where she’s facing Elena.
Christian’s meal is now half finished.
Elena stands, scraping her chair on the pavers. ‘I need the bathroom. Can I please have the key card?’
He doesn’t look up from his phone. ‘Five minutes. I’m almost done.’
‘I need to go now.’ She doesn’t have to fake the urgency in her voice.
‘There’s a toilet over there.’ He indicates with his chin. ‘Just use that one.’
‘I don’t want to use a public bathroom.’ She grimaces. ‘It’s urgent, Christian. I feel sick.’
‘This is because you overdid it with the food yesterday.’ He keeps his voice low. ‘I told you, didn’t I?’
‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Key, please?’
He reaches into his pocket. ‘I’ll meet you up there.’
When Elena races past the table where the Dawsons are sitting, Mike announces, ‘Dang it, hon, I forgot to take my morning tablet. Back in a minute.’
‘I’ll come with you, hon,’ Gayle replies, way too loudly for it to be a natural conversation.
What the fuck are they doing? Why are they following her? This wasn’t part of the plan.
She bolts up the stairs, taking them two at a time, feeling them behind her. Mike catches up to her on the landing of the first floor, Gayle lagging behind.
‘Are you okay? Has he hurt you again?’ Mike pants. His pink face is clammy. Sweat runs down onto his beard.
‘What are you doing?’ Elena hisses at him. ‘He can’t catch us talking!’
Gayle makes it to the top of the stairs. Her face is flushed too. ‘Are you okay, sugar?’
‘I’m fine. I told you I’d leave the letter under your door. I’ll give it to you now, but we have to be quick.’ Elena jogs down the hallway to her room with the Dawsons following her. Her hands are trembling so hard that she can’t hold the key card steady for long enough to unlock the door.
‘Here.’ Mike takes the card from her and opens the door.
‘Wait there.’ Elena dashes to the bathroom and retrieves the letters.
Mike holds out his hand, but she gives them to Gayle.
‘Anything else we can do for you, sugar?’ Gayle’s still out of breath.
Elena’s eyes dart up the hallway. ‘No, just go. Go!’
She slams the door in their faces and goes into the bathroom. She flops down onto the toilet and leans back against the cistern, shutting her eyes.
Gayle has the note for Mamma. There’s no turning back now.
Seconds later, she hears Christian come in.
She walks out of the bathroom, rubbing her stomach. ‘Sorry I had to leave in such a hurry. I just made it back in time before I threw up.’
He sits on the bed, looking at her long and hard. She knows that look. Ice spreads through her chest.
‘What were those fat Americans doing at our door?’
‘Who?’ she says innocently.
‘The Americans, the old couple from across the hall. They were standing outside our door. What were they doing there?’ He doesn’t blink.
Fanculo. She musters a laugh. It comes out shrill. ‘How should I know?’ Can he hear how shaky her voice is?
He doesn’t break his stare. ‘He jumped when he saw me, the old dude. Literally jumped, like he’d been caught doing something bad. Mumbled some kind of apology about forgetting which room was his. The wife stood there like a stunned mullet.’
‘That’s weird.’
‘It is weird. It’s very weird.’ He breathes in and out. ‘There’s nothing going on with him, is there, Ellie?’
‘What? You can’t be serious?’
‘Well, with you running off like that in the middle of breakfast, and then him being up here coincidentally at the same time, something smells off.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ She fakes another laugh. ‘He’s like a hundred years old. He was wearing a sun visor at breakfast. A sun visor! In the middle of winter. Indoors! How could you possibly think there’s anything going on?’
Christian’s face softens. ‘Don’t know, just a weird feeling.’
The stress has made her dizzy. ‘I feel faint all of a sudden. I need to lie down.’
She flops down onto her side of the bed and takes a few deep breaths.
‘I wonder if you’ve caught a bug.’ He touches her forehead with the back of his hand. ‘No fever.’
The hardest thing she’s ever accomplished is learning not to flinch when he touches her.
‘Do you still feel like going out?’ His tone is gentle now. ‘We can stay in until you feel better.’
‘I’ll be okay to go out.’
The fact that he’s using this trip to sightsee, when they came here to bury her papà, makes her incandescent with rage. But it was the only way to get him to agree to stay in Venice after the funeral. Now the rest of the trip is a tourist holiday for him, with visits to Mamma limited to the evenings.
He checks his watch. ‘The Doge’s Palace tour starts in an hour. We can cancel it if we need to.’
‘I’ll be fine, honestly.’
‘All right. Well, how about you rest until it’s time for the tour.’ He looks out the window. ‘It’s not raining. I might go grab a quick coffee from up the street.’ He reaches for his coat.
Once he’s gone, she moves off the bed. From the window she watches him walk along the narrow lane with a spring in his step. As soon as he disappears from view, she flies down the stairs to reception.
‘Can I please use your phone?’ she asks the receptionist, who looks so much like Marina, they could be sisters.
‘Of course, signora.’ The smiley receptionist – Chiara, according to her name tag – lifts the phone up onto the desk for her.
Elena dials Mamma’s home phone number. It rings and rings. She hangs up and tries the mobile number, even though Mamma never uses her mobile phone. A recorded message tells her the phone is switched off.
She thanks Chiara and quickly walks into the restaurant.
Gayle and Mike aren’t there. Are they already on their way to Mamma’s apartment? If Mamma isn’t answering her phone, will she even be home when they get there?
Marina meets her at the breakfast buffet. She’s holding a platter of melons. ‘Signora, hello again. Did you forget something?’
It’s strange to have Marina address her so formally in English, as if they’re strangers. She has a sudden urge to tell Marina who she is. ‘Actually, I didn’t have any breakfast before, so I came back to grab a bite.’
‘I noticed you did not eat.’ Marina gives her a kind smile. ‘How about this table here?’
‘I don’t need to sit, thank you. I’ll be fast.’
‘No problem. Help yourself to the buffet, signora. It warms my heart to know you will be eating this morning.’
Elena reaches for a hunk of bread and slaps pancetta and cheese on it. She gobbles mouthful after mouthful, hardly chewing what she swallows. The large lumps of food hurt her throat as they slide down. Next, she scoffs a Danish scroll. Her hunger overpowers the shame of gorging herself like this in public. Who knows when the next chance of a solid meal will be? When she’s done with the scroll, she picks up a slice of melon.
‘You are eating my food at last . Brava!’ Signora Bianchi comes up from behind her and rubs her arm.
Her gentle touch almost makes Elena cry. She wants to ask all about poor Signore Bianchi, but instead she swallows the melon and hurries out of the restaurant.
Back in their room, she sits near the window, watching the street, wishing she could have used this opportunity to escape. But she needs a bigger head start to outrun him, and she’s not prepared to ruin her one chance of doing this. She’s thought up a possible way to get out of a day of exploring the sights with him so she can be alone for a few hours, but it’s a risky idea. She’s still undecided about whether to go through with it or not. She gnaws at a nail while she imagines all the ways in which her plan could go wrong.