Chapter 80 Loretta
L ORETTA
Loretta sighs wearily as she climbs into bed. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing all day with journalists wanting a comment about her photo at Magdalena’s tank.
‘How nice that the whole world now knows how miserable you are with your life,’ Alberto grumbled bitterly this afternoon.
He hasn’t smiled once today. At dinner he stayed upstairs instead of mingling with the guests. He must be worried about his upcoming surgery, but he hasn’t shared his concerns with her. The lifelong bond between them has been broken and she doesn’t know how to fix it.
She reaches into the drawer of her bedside table for the rosary, but the aqua glass beads don’t allay her worries at all. After a while she flicks off the covers and leaves the warmth of the bed. She puts on a robe and slippers.
Alberto rolls over and looks at her. ‘Where are you going now? Another escapade we can enjoy photos of in the news tomorrow?’
She clicks her tongue. ‘Does it look like I’m going on an excursion dressed like this? I can’t sleep. I’m just getting some cake and something to drink.’
He huffs and rolls over again.
‘I’ll be back soon,’ she says to his back.
La signora Americana is sitting in the restaurant, alone at a table with an untouched slice of cake, when Loretta wanders in. Loretta curses inwardly but smiles at Gayle. Of all the people, why does it have to be her, the woman who knows her darkest secret, who’s here when Loretta’s at her most vulnerable? At least Gayle’s insufferable husband isn’t here.
‘We had the same idea.’ Loretta nods at the slice of marantega cake in front of her guest. Walking to the buffet table, she cuts herself a generous slice of cake, and from the bar, she pours two shot glasses of sherry.
‘Thank you, but I don’t drink.’ Gayle pats her tight white curls when Loretta sets the sherry in front of her. Her eyes are bloodshot and she clutches a ball of saturated tissues. She hasn’t taken off her make-up; the blue eyeshadow is as bright as ever and her eyelashes are clumped together with blue mascara.
Loretta slides the drink closer to Gayle. ‘For tonight, you make an exception. It looks like you need it as much as I do.’ She clinks her glass against Gayle’s. ‘Salute.’
‘You twisted my arm.’ Gayle copies Loretta, throwing back the shot. She licks her lips afterwards and looks appreciatively at the empty glass.
‘You see?’ Loretta smiles. She chews the first bite of cake. It came out a little dry today.
‘Still raining out there,’ Gayle says. ‘Never seen a place get so wet.’
‘The acqua alta is a curse.’ She watches Gayle use her fork to play with the cake. ‘You do not like the cake?’
‘I love it! Everything you cook is just wonderful.’
‘You do not seem like you are enjoying it.’
‘I gotta headache is all,’ Gayle says.
‘Still?’
‘Still. I’ve had this headache coming on six months now. Can’t seem to shake it, no matter what I do.’
‘So your headache did not start here, in my hotel?’
‘No, ma’am.’
Loretta shakes her head. ‘Then why does your husband insist it is the pink walls of this room that caused the problem?’
Gayle sighs. ‘That’s Mike, he’s always looking for something to blame. The truth is, I know the reason I keep getting these headaches. And deep down, so does Mike.’
‘And now you must tell me what the reason is.’
‘It’s because of my son.’ Gayle’s eyes tear up at the mention of her child. ‘We’re not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.’
‘A mother cannot be happy if there is trouble with her son.’
‘I think my headaches are the Lord’s punishment. The thing is, Noah, my boy, he’s gay.’
Loretta’s skin prickles all over. ‘You think God is punishing you because your son is gay?’
‘No, no! God’s punishing me for being a bad mother. You see, Noah got married and Mike, well, he’s opposed to gay marriage.’
Loretta has to work hard not to roll her eyes. Of course Mike’s opposed to gay marriage. What’s he not opposed to?
Gayle continues. ‘They had a big argument and we haven’t seen Noah since. I didn’t do a thing to stop it – I didn’t defend my son. The Lord’s punishing me for not loving him enough. Now Noah’s missing. Nobody knows where he is since yesterday. He’s not answering his phone. His husband, Chris, sent me this message today.’
Loretta reads the message on Gayle’s phone. ‘I have received messages like this many years ago about my own son,’ she says, handing the phone back. ‘This is a terrible thing for a mother. But you know, to me, it sounds like your son is safe. These are the actions of a man who wants time alone to think, that is all. It has only been a day. Maybe he had an argument with this Chris?’
‘That’s what Mike thinks too. I hope you’re both right.’
Loretta’s annoyed at sharing even a single thought with that moronic man.
‘I think it’s because he’s upset with us that he’s gone missing.’ Gayle wrings her chubby red hands together. ‘I’m telling you, the Lord’s punishing me for not loving him enough.’
‘The reason you suffer is because you love your son too much, not because you do not love him enough. Why would your head hurt for six months if you do not love him? Why would you be sitting here at this hour instead of sleeping?’
‘I didn’t love him the way I should have when he was growing up.’ Gayle’s nose drips. She wipes it with the used bunch of tissues. ‘He gave me so much trouble, that boy. I resented him and that’s the truth. I loved the other children more.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a long story, Loretta. I’m sure you’re too busy for my nonsense.’
‘Do I look busy? I am sitting here doing nothing but eating cake.’ Loretta’s pleased for the distraction. ‘Tell me this long story. I am interested.’
‘Settle in, sugar, and I’ll tell you.’ Gayle lets out a shaky sigh. ‘It started with my awful pregnancy – nausea like I’d never known, sciatic pain, haemorrhoids you needed a wheelbarrow for. I’d been blessed with easy pregnancies before, so it was a shock. Meanwhile, I had three little ones under five to look after. So I think I resented poor Noah before he even took his first breath.’
‘You had three children less than five years old when you were pregnant?’ Loretta’s jaw drops.
‘I sure did. Mike doesn’t believe in birth control.’
Of course he doesn’t , Loretta thinks.
‘We let ourselves accept as many children as the Lord knew we could handle,’ Gayle says.
Loretta shakes her head. ‘Your poor body. So the pregnancy was difficult, and then?’
‘And then Noah came into the world a whole fourteen weeks before he was due. There was a terrible storm that day. I remember it was a Wednesday. There’s an old poem that has a line in it: “Wednesday’s child is full of woe”. Do you know it?’
‘No.’
‘Well, let me tell you, that child was full of woe. Even the sky was crying the day Noah was born.’ She pauses. ‘He was in the neo-natal unit for twelve weeks.’
‘This sounds like a very difficult time.’
‘It was. I had to have an emergency hysterectomy.’
‘So the Lord decided that the number of children you could handle was four,’ Loretta says acerbically but Gayle simply nods.
‘Noah was an itty-bitty little thing when we brought him home, smaller than a doll. But boy did he have a set of lungs on him! That child screamed all the day long for the first year of his life. Sometimes I wonder if he knew, even back then, the struggles that lay ahead for him. He was a miserable baby, and I was a miserable mom.’
‘Of course you were miserable. You had four young children to care for, you were recovering from surgery, your baby was born too soon. This is hard for anyone.’
‘I thought it would get better but it didn’t. The misery followed me into Noah’s childhood. My other three were well behaved, but Noah? Oh, Loretta, he was the most wilful of boys. Trouble always seemed to find him.’
Loretta laughs. ‘He sounds like Marina as a child.’
Gayle looks surprised. ‘Really? And did you treat her differently to Rocco?’
‘Of course! I used to take off my shoe to smack her with it so often that on many days I spent more time with my shoe in my hand than on my foot.’
‘But did you love her less?’
Loretta shakes her head. ‘I adored her.’
‘That’s where I went wrong.’ Gayle tears up again. ‘I favoured the other children, the ones who didn’t give me trouble. I convinced myself that Noah’s wilfulness was God’s way of punishing me for not loving him enough. Now I know better. His wilfulness wasn’t my punishment, him turning his back on me is.’
Loretta stands up, wincing as her knees creak. She brings the tissue box from the buffet table over to Gayle and sits back down again. ‘Perhaps you appreciated your other children more because they were easier, like any mother would. This does not mean you loved your son less. Everything you have told me makes me think you love your son as much as any mother loves her child.’
Gayle blows her nose. ‘You really think so?’
‘God is not punishing you, Gayle. You are punishing yourself.’
Gayle looks off into the distance. ‘You might be right about that. How’d you get to be so wise?’
Loretta chuckles. ‘I am wise only when it concerns the lives of other people. When it comes to my own children, I am stupid. My daughter has been in love with a man for seven years and I never knew until now.’
‘The priest?’
Loretta’s eyes bulge. ‘Even you knew?’
‘Marina’s a lovely young woman. I hope the good Lord brings her happiness.’ They sit in silence for a minute, then Gayle says, ‘I saw the photo of you in the piazza. Broke my heart to see you like that. You’re going through a lot, aren’t you?’
Loretta considers another sherry but remains seated. ‘It has been perhaps the most difficult ten days of my life.’
‘You wanna talk about it, sugar?’
There’s such an honesty and openness to Gayle that Loretta finds herself sharing her story. ‘And what has surprised me the most,’ she finishes, ‘is that I am much more devastated about hurting Alberto than losing Flavia.’
‘You’ve built a life with Alberto. It makes sense. Give him some time, things will get better. It’s easy to see how much he loves you.’
‘You know who I feel like? The artist Magdalena in the tank. The water is up to here.’ Loretta puts her hand up to her own neck.
‘We saw her today. It was pouring rain on her, and she was standing there, shivering and shaking, with the crowd heaving around her. I had to look away.’
‘I hate this exhibition,’ Loretta says bitterly. ‘I will be happy when it is finished.’
‘I’d be lying if I said I enjoyed it, but I have to admit it’s taught Mike and me a whole lot. We’re changing how we do things now.’
Loretta frowns. ‘How?’
‘Well, for one, we’re checking that everything we buy is made in Venice. And when we get home, we’re gonna tell everyone not to come here on the cruise ship like we did. We know how bad that is now.’
‘Hmm, perhaps the exhibition will be useful after all.’
Gayle takes a small bite of the cake. ‘This really is delicious.’
‘This cake is torta dea marantega, the cake of the witch.’
Gayle raises her eyebrows. ‘Why the witch?’
‘Tradition. The witch is the symbol of the Epiphany. In the old days on the trading ships, dried fruit and raisins were precious because they were rare. So this fruit cake was baked only at Christmas time as a special celebration.’
Gayle gives a faint smile. ‘What a fine tradition.’
‘It is a very simple recipe,’ Loretta says. ‘I can write it for you.’
‘Thank you, but Mike, well, he doesn’t like fruit cake.’
Loretta waves her arm at Gayle. ‘What about what you like?’
‘Oh, come on now, I wouldn’t bake a cake just for me. Seems a waste if Mike isn’t enjoying it too.’
‘I hope he appreciates how lucky he is to have such a good wife.’
‘I’m the lucky one. I’ve been giving him such a hard time lately, about Noah and everything. And even though he’s upset with me, he still puts my needs before his every minute of the day. I left our suite in a huff tonight – we’re always arguing about Noah these days. But the truth of it is I owe my Mike everything. He rescued me when he married me.’
‘What is marriage for if not for rescuing each other?’
‘He literally rescued me though. I was never a Christian before I met him, but he turned my face to the Lord,’ Gayle says. ‘We were only kids when we got married, straight outta high school. Mike was saving to go to college to become a doctor or a lawyer, something important, you know? He’s so smart, he could’ve been anything he wanted to be.’
Loretta holds back a laugh.
‘But no sooner were we married than out popped little Susan. So instead of college, he took a job at a tyre company, and he was a diligent worker for over fifty years. All our lives, Mike put himself last. He was the best daddy to our kids, always goofing ’round with them, and he’s treated me like a queen. I owe that man everything. I just wish we could all be a family again. I know he loves Noah, he really does. But I’m worried it’s too late and that something awful’s happened to Noah.’
‘We will pray for the safety of your son. I am sure he is well and you are worrying for nothing.’
Hearing Gayle talk so lovingly about her husband sends a pang of guilt through Loretta. It’s not just Mike who has been a diligent worker; Alberto’s worked hard from morning till night from the day they were married, showing as much devotion to the hotel as she has. He’s also been the most wonderful father to their children and has never treated her as anything less than a queen. But while Gayle openly praises her husband, Loretta has always been quick to snipe at Alberto. She has to make it up to him – he deserves better. So much better.
Loretta eats the last mouthful of her cake. ‘It is getting very late. I have to try and sleep so I can work tomorrow.’
‘Bedtime for me too. That drop of sherry’s done the trick. I can feel my eyelids growing heavy.’ Gayle pushes her chair back.
Loretta stacks their dirty plates and glasses on the buffet table, too tired to take them to the kitchen.
As they walk up the stairs together, she slips her arm through Gayle’s. ‘I am sure you will hear from Noah tomorrow.’
‘I hope so. I really appreciate you listening to me tonight. I’ve been a fan of yours for so long. Now I can call you my friend.’
‘And you have seen me at my worst and shown me true kindness. You have been a true friend to me. And Elena’s mother tells me how kind you have been to her too. You are a wonderful woman, Gayle.’
‘Oh, sweet Elena. I’m so worried for her tomorrow.’
‘Me too.’ Loretta squeezes her hand. ‘But we will pray, yes?’
‘There’s always prayer. Sleep well, sugar.’
‘Sweet dreams.’
They each go to their own doors.
Alberto stirs when Loretta walks into the bedroom. ‘You were gone for a long time,’ he mumbles. ‘Did you find another nun to kiss?’
‘No nun, just cake.’ She crawls into bed and kisses the top of his head. ‘Alberto, you know how much you mean to me, don’t you? You know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for our family?’
His eyes pop wide open. ‘Are you dying?’
‘What? No!’
A look of panic crosses his face. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me? Have you got cancer?’
‘And why would I suddenly discover I have cancer at eleven o’clock at night?’
‘I don’t know. Why are you acting like you’re dying?’
‘Forget it,’ she snaps. ‘Go to sleep.’
Alberto grumbles to himself and shuts his eyes.
When he’s snoring again, she whispers into the dark, ‘Ti amo, Alberto.’
As soon as she lies down, she realises she hasn’t emptied her bladder yet. Annoyed, she flicks the covers off and pads to the ensuite. She comes back to bed, again waking Alberto.
This time he gets up. He takes a step in the direction of the toilet and stops, clutching his shoulder. A weird sound comes from him and then he collapses onto the floor. Loretta flies out of bed and races to him. He’s lying face down, unmoving.
‘Alberto! Alberto!’ She drops to her knees and turns Alberto onto his back. His body is limp and heavy to move. Dio mio, not his heart again!
‘Alberto! Wake up!’ She grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him.
He still doesn’t respond. His head lolls. His eyes are rolled backwards.
‘Rocco! Marina!’
She runs to the bedside table, lunging for her phone, and calls for an ambulance. The operator drawls, asking her to slow down, making her repeat the address twice. He’s in no hurry whatsoever.
‘Stop wasting time!’ she yells at him.
Alberto is still unconscious. Is he even alive?
She runs in her bare feet, her nightgown flapping around her legs, out of their apartment and across the hallway, moving faster than she has in years. Her whole body’s shaking as she bangs on the Taylors’ door with both fists.
‘Dottore!’ she screams. ‘Elena! Aiutami! Help!’
The door opens and Christian appears, with Elena behind him. She explains quickly, dragging Christian, who’s dressed only in briefs, by the hand to her apartment. She and Elena watch Christian administer CPR to Alberto, just like he did last week. He doesn’t stop until the ambulance arrives and the paramedics take over.
The whole time the paramedics are working on Alberto’s limp body, shocking him with electric current, Loretta prays to the Blessed Virgin. She makes every bargain she can think of. It’s when she promises the Madonna that if Alberto is spared she’ll retire from the restaurant and spend the rest of her days caring for him that Alberto opens his eyes and gasps for air.