Chapter 18 Cosimo #2
He tried to read the look in her eyes. What were the words she wanted him to say to make everything right between them? ‘I regret not speaking to you about it afterwards. You’re right, I should have come to see you before we left the next day – or written, maybe? … I should have done that.’
‘Why didn’t you, then?’
He fell quiet. How could he tell her it had frightened him, the strength of feeling she aroused in him? That he’d never known how it felt to be so connected to someone, as if their souls had touched?
She gave a small scoff as his words failed to materialize. ‘Forget it. I already know why.’
She turned away a third time but he caught her by the wrist. ‘What do you know?’
‘I know it meant nothing to you. I meant nothing.’
‘What? No …’
‘We were friends, Cosi. Best friends. I thought at the very least I deserved better than to be treated like all those other girls you go around kissing and discarding.’
‘You did! You do! … You’re everything to me, Raf.’
‘Right – that’s why you left without speaking to me.
And when you did come back, you brought Valentina Fabiani with you!
Because I’m everything to you!’ She gave a small incredulous laugh, as if she still couldn’t believe what he’d done, and he saw for the first time how deeply he’d hurt her.
He felt his heart pound harder at the realization that his ruse to hide his feelings had been so very successful.
Because it was all true – he had used Valentina as a human shield, to send a message that he had moved on, when nothing could have been further from the truth.
‘You’ve got this all wrong,’ he said with rising desperation as his faltering apology began to unravel.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said flatly. ‘You brought her down here and you threw a party for her! And then on top of that, your sister seduced my boyfriend there – because both of you think you can do whatever you want to me. I don’t matter to either one of you.’
He knew he had to speak plainly now. To put it all on the line and tell her how he felt. ‘Raf, when I kissed you, I didn’t think it meant anything—’ he began, half rising from his seat, needing to bridge the physical gap between them.
‘It didn’t! I don’t care! I’m with Fon now anyway!’ she cried, and she pushed on his shoulder so that he fell back down into the chair. ‘Just leave me alone, Cosi.’
‘I can’t do that.’ She’d cut him off before he could finish. He had intended to say, I didn’t think it meant anything to you.
‘Signorina,’ a man hailed her from one of the other tables, hand in the air as he gestured for the bill.
She smiled and indicated she had heard before looking back at Cosimo with angry eyes. ‘Just go,’ she hissed under her breath. ‘You’ll burn if you keep sitting there, you know!’
He watched her go, sand flying up behind her – his heart already in flames.
‘We’re closing up,’ she said, smacking down the bill for five Cokes.
She hadn’t met his eyes as he’d placed the latest order, seeming to have accepted her fate of serving him all morning, and he could see she was still not receptive to any further conversation.
He had come here prepared to play the long game; so be it. He would need to change tactics.
‘OK,’ he said, reaching into his shorts pocket for the lira banknotes and handing over too much. ‘Keep the change,’ he said quickly, stopping her before she could leave for the till.
It worked. She hesitated, and he knew she didn’t want his charity. She didn’t want anything from him.
‘When do you reopen?’ he asked before she could push back.
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Four. But …’
‘I’ll see you at four, then,’ he said briskly, getting up from the chair. In spite of her new height, he still towered over her, and he felt the electric charge of her body so near to his as he looked down at her. Just as it had been between them that night, last summer …
She stepped back as he began to walk away. He could feel her eyes on him all the way across the sand as he headed home to get ready for round two.
‘You’re late.’
‘By six minutes,’ she muttered, not looking at him as she unlocked the side door of the caffè. She would have seen him waiting here as she’d come through the archway and realized how this afternoon was going to pan out.
Waiting on the other side of the counter, he could hear her throw down her bag and switch on the coffee machines, crashing and banging angrily before finally unlocking the shutters. He was leaning on his elbows, already smiling at her, when she drew them up.
‘Need any help?’
‘Not from you.’
Her hostility didn’t faze him now; he was growing used to it. Unlike Gina, who was unpredictable and fiery, as likely to throw a punch as an insult, Rafaella only ever said what was necessary to keep him back.
‘Huh. It’s just, Gina said she’d be away all day, so I thought you might need a hand.’ He saw her surprise at the comment, the intimation that Gina had spoken to him, perhaps even forgiven him.
‘I’ve got it covered.’ She reached for her cloth, polishing non-existent stains. ‘… I suppose you want a Coke?’ she asked sullenly.
‘I suppose I do,’ he replied. ‘I’ll sit at my usual table, shall I?’
His sarcasm was not appreciated. He could feel the quiet rage bristling from her as she went round unfolding chairs and pulling up umbrellas, pointedly getting to his last.
His instincts told him to help her, to do it himself – but she brushed against him as she leaned forward on tiptoe to fasten the rope pulleys, her blouse lifting to reveal a snatch of toned brown stomach at his eye level, and nothing on the planet could have induced him to move.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured as the small square of shade fell upon the sand – but not onto him. The sun had, of course, moved during riposo; he had spent the duration lying in their round swimming pool, trying to soothe his sore, reddened skin.
He moved his chair into the shade, this time positioning it so that he faced the bar and not out to sea. For one thing, he couldn’t stomach watching Dante pull one more figure of eight on the water, acting like the local big man for the tourists.
‘One Coke,’ Rafaella muttered, returning a few moments later with his bottle and glass full of ice.
‘Thanks,’ he smiled, giving a sigh of his own as he picked up the bottle and held it, as if for a toast. Just the sight of it made him feel sick. ‘Let’s see if I can break my record, shall we?’
‘We’re closing,’ she said, giving his table a perfunctory wipe as she set down his bill three hours later.
He reached for the money in his pocket and placed it on the table without even glancing at it. ‘So, same again tomorrow?’
She looked at him with disbelief, the first time she had looked at him properly in hours.
He had been sitting here for more than seven hours, all in.
The skin on his face was red and tight and there was now more sugar than blood in his bloodstream.
Sunstroke was a definite possibility tonight, to go with his black eye and broken thumb.
A glimmer of amusement climbed into her eyes at the beaten-up, bedraggled sight of him, and he felt his hopes soar. He’d happily break his leg, too, and it would all be worth it if she’d forgive him.
‘What?’ he grinned, feeling giddy in her gaze. She had always lost their staring contests when they were kids. He’d always known how to make her laugh and he crossed his eyes, doing exactly that.
She shook her head wearily as she grinned back, worn down by his stubbornness. ‘You’re an idiot.’
‘I am,’ he agreed. Insults were always a good sign; it was mannered reserve that set him on edge.
A moment pulsed, a moment in which he knew his entire summer hung in the balance, and he held his breath as he waited to see which way the axe would fall.
Finally she set down the cloth and pulled out the other chair, sinking into it with an exhausted groan.
He watched how her eyes closed as she took the weight off her feet, the muscles in her long legs growing soft, her mouth parting as she tipped her head back and breathed deeply for several moments.
His eyes raked over her with a yearning that would have frightened her if she had seen it, and he tried to remember the time – all those years – when she had been ‘just Rafa’: quiet and obedient compared to other girls, but also ticklish, and a fast runner, and a brilliant diver, and good at guessing riddles.
When exactly had she become more? He knew their kiss had changed her for ever in his eyes – he had spent the past year trying and failing to forget it – but what had been the trigger for it in the first place?
It was the question his mind returned to, over and over, as he fell into the memories: hide-and-seek in the dark, tipsy on smuggled beer, Gina calling their names as they squeezed into the narrow gap in the trunk of one of the monumentales.
The scent of her skin awakening something in him; that look in her eyes in the final moment before their lips met – clarity, comprehension, surrender.
He had tried to brush it off, putting it down to lust, hormones, drink and whatever else he could think of.
He had returned to Rome as planned the next day, picking up his life – but he hadn’t been able to forget it.
And being back with her now, even in silence, even faced with hostility, he had the sense that his life was here.
Rome had simply been distraction and noise.
‘You’re going to be in pain tomorrow,’ she said, staring at the sea.
He shook his head, watching her. ‘No. Everything’s going to be better now.’
She squinted at his boldness and he watched her profile as she gazed at the horizon, seeing the tiny microspasms of her muscles even though her body was almost unnaturally still.
‘You were right earlier, you know. What you said about Valentina.’
Her head whipped round as she pinned him with a surprised stare.
‘… I did bring her here to make a point. I was a coward. I didn’t know how you’d feel about me after what I’d done, and she was a way to … pretend nothing had happened.’ He clicked his tongue against his teeth. ‘But it was cruel. I hate that I hurt you.’
She made a small scoffing sound. ‘You sound like your sister.’
‘Because we’ve both behaved badly to you. You’re such a good person, Raf, but me and Romy, we’re … we’re ruined.’
‘Spoilt, certainly.’ She watched him, still reluctant to forgive. A moment stretched out as she regarded him closely. ‘What you said the other day, about things being difficult for you both. What did you mean? Romy’s never made any suggestion in her letters that there were problems.’
He felt himself recoil at the question. Discretion was the utmost virtue in their family, but if he wanted any kind of chance of winning back Rafa’s trust, he couldn’t dodge the truth.
‘Things are bad between our parents. Really bad,’ he said quietly. ‘Romy is convinced they’re going to get divorced.’
She watched him. ‘They’re not going to get divorced,’ she said, not unkindly.
‘I keep trying to tell her that. If nothing else, the shame alone would deter our mother. But Romy … she gets so anxious and acts out.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he felt his own body tense.
‘They behave as if nothing’s wrong, that’s the problem; we’re all living with this pretence everything’s fine, when it clearly isn’t.
I think her behaviour is a way of trying to …
bait them? That perhaps she thinks if they have to acknowledge her situation, they’ll have to deal with their own?
’ He shrugged, drumming his fingers nervily on the table. ‘I don’t know.’
She didn’t respond for several moments, just looked straight at him, so clear-eyed it was like catching the wind in his hands. ‘I’m sorry that’s happening to your family, Cosi. It sounds awful.’
‘It’s not a justification, though, for how we behaved towards you,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m not trying to make excuses. Neither Romy nor I want to lose our friendship with you. It’s the most important thing to both of us.’
Her eyes flashed in his direction. Did she hear the sincerity in his plea, even though it was only half true? He wanted more, but even friendship was a reach. As she herself had said, she was with Fon now; she’d moved on. This was the most he could hope for.
‘… Our friendship is the most important thing,’ she agreed finally.
‘Yes? So you can forgive us?’
She barely hesitated. ‘If you can forgive Fon.’
Fon? He was taken aback by the counter-charge. ‘Well, it’s not like he and I were ever close …’
‘No, but he is my boyfriend now. And if we’re going to … be friends, and spend time together this summer, you have to be able to get on.’
He felt her scrutiny as the words landed like hot coals on his skin.
‘Can you get over what he did with your sister?’ she asked.
With. Not to. The word choice was deliberate – mutual complicity, mutual guilt – and his eyes flashed up to hers. Clearly no one was forgiven yet.
‘Well, can you?’ she pressed.
Cosimo felt the answer catch in his throat. It wasn’t Fon fucking his sister that provoked his rage, tormented him. ‘… Of course I can. Romy can handle herself.’
She watched him for a few moments more. Could she hear the lie quivering through his words?
‘It’s fine, Raf,’ he insisted. ‘I just want everything to go back to being how it was before.’
She looked down at the table and gave a small smile, as if she was having a silent conversation in her head and he was locked out of it. ‘OK,’ she shrugged. ‘Then I guess it’s all settled. Everything can go back to how it was before.’
She got up, but he caught her hand lightly, not wanting to let her go. ‘You really mean it? We’re really friends again?’
‘We really are,’ she nodded, looking down at him for a moment with an expression that sent electric jolts through his body. She smiled but when she slipped her hand from his, he felt like a kid glove being dropped to the pavement.
He watched as she walked away, the status quo restored. He listened to the sounds of her closing up the caffè – no more crashing and banging, no more anger. Just calm, steady routine, life continuing on as it always had. Peace had broken out and they were friends again.
He’d got what he’d come for. But it didn’t feel like a victory.