Chapter 37 #2
We still remember how she fell apart, soon after she discovered that the man she loved already had another family. Had a wife. I'll never forget the weeks that followed. The endless crying.
At night, Rio, Enzo, and I would hear her grief through the walls.
We were just boys, powerless to stop it. So we made an unspoken promise instead.
Mama would never want for anything again.
And the old man would never get another chance to break her heart.
Tap, tap, tap. The sound of the rain gently falling on the umbrella is a rhythmic and soothing sound.
“Now,” she says, looking at me, “are you going to tell me anything about Elizabeth?”
I jolt inwardly at the sound of her name. Not physically, nothing that Mama would notice, but hearing her name out loud sends reverberations inside me. She's been in my thoughts the entire time I've been here, the entire time since I left her. Thoughts I've tried to suppress and failed.
My hand grips the table, like I need something to steady myself with. I'm not ready to talk about her to Mama just yet.
“She's someone from work, Mama. There's not much to tell.”
My mother gives me that look; the one she used to when she knew we were holding something back. And when I remain silent, she states, “You don’t want to talk about her.”
I look away, because this woman knows me too well. I can feel her watching me expectantly and waiting.
So I turn back to her, because I've been turning this question over in my head ever since I left the wedding reception.
“How did you feel when you discovered that he cheated on you? When you realized that he wasn’t who he said he was?”
Her expression changes, and though it softens, I catch a glimpse of old pain still there. I hate making her relive it that time all over again.
“Sorry, Mama, but I have to know.”
“It broke my heart,” she says quietly. “He broke my heart, because never in a million years did I think he had eyes for anyone else. I was so sure that he was the one. And he was so good with you all. He loved you all so much.” She pauses, glancing down at her hands.
“I don’t know if you remember, Matteo. You were all so young. ”
“I do remember, Mama.”
“But when he did that to me, to all of you,” she continues, “I realized that he was a man who could not be trusted.”
Could not be trusted. I feel a knot in my throat.
Trust is such a precious trait.
I've always been careful with my heart, protected it because I've seen what happens when lies and deceit poison something good.
Now my heart is fractured, and the worst thing? Elizabeth did this.
Mama looks up at me, her gaze steady. “You see, Matteo, it wasn’t that he had done a small wrong, like he had forgotten my birthday, or the anniversary of when we first met. Those are small things that can be explained away. This secret was too big, and there was proof.”
“Proof?”
“He showed me a picture of her, and of their children. When I saw that they were around the same age as you boys, I hated him even more. It was proof that he'd chosen deception every single day. Not once, not twice, but every day for years. I’ve never understood how he could lead a double life so easily.”
Proof.
Alex has proof.
Systems don't lie. Digital signatures don't lie.
Elizabeth poisoned what we had. She kept secrets. She let me get close while hiding parts of herself that mattered. The trust between us is fractured.
Gone.
I start to understand a fraction of what Mama must have felt all those years ago.
Then guilt follows immediately.
It's not the same.
Mama built a life with the old man. She gave him years. She gave him children.
Elizabeth and I...
What we had barely had a chance to begin.
In a few months, maybe a year, I'll forget her.
The thought hits like a punch to the gut.
No.
I won't.
I shift in my chair, suddenly restless.
Because the truth is, I've never met anyone like her.
She’s brilliant, infuriating, stubborn, vulnerable, and stronger than she realizes.
I don't know how it happened, or when, but I started entertaining dangerous thoughts.
Foolish thoughts.
Thoughts that maybe she was the one person worth taking a chance on.
“What are you thinking, figlio mio?”
I clench down on my teeth again, sit taller in the chair, scramble for something else. Not Elizabeth.
“Aurora ... you still talk about her as if you know her, Mama.”
“I feel like we lived our lives in parallel. She was married to him, had a family, and lived in ignorant bliss.” She shrugs, before saying softly, “At least, I believe she did, I don't know.
I'll never know if she ever suspected anything.
And here I was, with him, not married. Your grandparents weren't happy.
They didn't like that he didn't marry me.
I used to think he would, some day, when he'd established his business. I had no idea how well he was doing back then. I never thought to spy on him, or ask too many questions. I was in love, and blind, you see.”
She exhales slowly.
“I still think of her sometimes, even though she’s gone.” Her voice quiets to a whisper, and I see it, really see it, in a way I've never seen before, the weight Mama carries for Aurora, still.
“You can’t feel guilty about her, Mama,” I say quietly. “You didn’t know about her. None of this was your fault. It was his.”
“But I still do, and I always will,” she whispers. “I may not have had anything directly to do with it, but I am involved, like a thread in a piece of fabric. Everything joins together.”
The gentle patter of falling rain is a welcome relief in the silence that follows.
“Your friend, the one from work, she must be special, for you to travel all this way, even if, as you say, she was attending a wedding. It's not like you, Matteo.”
I don't know what to say to her, that my heart is bruised. It's more than bruised. It feels cracked, like it’s about to splinter into tiny pieces.
But I can't tell her that. After I return, and I get the full lowdown from Alex, Elizabeth will be history.
There's no point in talking about her.
“There’s nothing to it, Mama.”
“How are they all?” she asks after a lengthy pause.
“Who?”
“Aurora's boys.”
“They’re good.” I stop to think about them. “We’re getting closer.”
“That's good. I like that you are.”
I smile as I tell her about the dinners again, and about the arguments, about the way we’re all trying, in our own way, to be something resembling a family.
And then I remember the real reason I’m here.
“Mama,” I say quietly, “you know he has kidney disease.”
“Rio told me. He said it's getting worse.” She studies me carefully.
“Then you must know why I’m here.”
“No,” she says. “Rio said you would tell me. Do I need to worry?”
I hesitate. “I’m the only one who matched. I’m the only one who can give him a kidney.”
Her mouth falls open. “You?”
I nod, as the words sit heavy between us. “What should I do?”
Mama doesn’t answer straight away. She leans back slightly, her gaze on me as steady as the rain that continues to fall.
“Matteo,” she says softly, “this isn’t just a question of what you should do.
It’s a question of what you can live with.
” She reaches across the table for my hand.
“You must decide if giving this piece of yourself will bring you peace … or if not doing so will haunt you forever.” Her grip tightens slightly.
“Either way, you must choose with your whole heart, not out of guilt, not out of obligation, but out of love.”
A growing unease crawls around in my stomach. “But I don't love him.”
“Your parents are the source of your life, and no matter what they've done, you have to accept that.
You don't have to love him, but you have to make peace with what he did and who he is. You have to accept that he is your father, even if he is not a good man. You have to accept these things so that you can move on, figlio mio.”
I let out a heavy breath as the weight of her wisdom presses down on my chest. We’re still holding hands, my heart filling with such deep, profound love for this woman who I am so lucky to call my Mama.
I will sleep on her words and hope that when I wake up, I will have reached some sort of decision.
Long after Mama goes to bed, I'm still sitting out in the garden. I've decided to return home tomorrow, because so much is at stake. I need to get back to the lab and see what the hell is going on.