Chapter 20
The Respiri Ladies sit with me in an uncharacteristic silence the entire time the medical staff are tending to her, bringing me coffee, water, a shawl, but I refuse everything. They send each other worried glances but remain quiet.
About an hour later a Dr Angeli finally comes out to talk to me. ‘We’ve notified her husband.’
‘Thank you.’
She’s seen it a million times before, I’m sure.
‘We’ll let her sleep. I’ll have someone call you when she wakes up.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I say, my face scrunching into a knot so I won’t cry.
The doctor nods, briefly touching my arm. ‘If you need anything at all…’
‘Thank you.’
‘Come back to Respiri and get some rest,’ Maria coaxes softly. ‘One of us will keep guard and come and get you the minute we have any news.’
‘It’s okay, thank you,’ I assure her. ‘You go and get some rest. I want to be here when she wakes up.’
They nod, but Lucia and Carla remain, agreeing on shifts so that I’m never alone.
I should call Aldo to follow up on the call from the hospital. But I don’t have his number, because I’ve never cared to speak to him. I should have had it, in case something ever happened, shouldn’t I? Well, today it happened.
I call my dad.
‘Sweetheart,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll ask Markus if he can bring the flights forward.’
I’m grateful for that, of course.
‘See you as soon as possible, okay? Hang in there, my darling.’
I can do nothing but accept it. And wait for her to wake up.
*
I am sitting outside her room with Elsa and Carla now, who have brought fresh coffee and a jacket for me.
And still there is no one there to ask about my mother, as the occasional nurses scurrying to and fro don’t stop, doors clicking open and shut behind them. I don’t dare disturb them. Every time a door opens I jump, tunnel-visioning on their face to try to glean any info at all.
I have been told to relax, and that I will be informed.
But I can’t relax, of course. I need to stay with my mum.
She should be up and about, annoying the crap out of me with her endearments and encouragement and not in a hospital bed.
So I’ll stay right here until someone can tell me how she is doing.
I’ve tried to distract myself by studying the pictures of the Alps on the walls over and over again.
By now I know each and every ravine of these mountains.
Then, about three hours later, Lucia nudges me, and in the corner of my eye I see a man running down the corridor.
He is in his late sixties, looking very trim and elegant in a pair of sand-coloured trousers and a white shirt with long sleeves folded, and not rolled, up to just under the elbow.
He has salt and pepper hair, bright blue eyes and a square jaw.
It’s not until he’s reached me that I recognise him from the kids’ pictures.
It’s Aldo Amore, my mother’s husband. Behind the elegant stance and well-tailored clothes, there is pure terror on his drawn face. But he recognises me and hurries towards me. I jump to my feet, instinctively grabbing his outstretched hands. They are warm and solid.
‘Aldo…’
‘Olivia! How is she?’
‘I don’t know, they won’t tell me anything!’
‘Come with me,’ he says to me and Elsa, taking my arm, and we follow him down the corridor to a small lounge with sofas scattered around a coffee table with some carafes and porcelain cups.
He knocks on a door, speaks briefly with a nurse who pokes her head out and nods. Then he comes back and pours us some steaming coffee. I wrap my fingers around the hot cup, gathering what comfort I can. Because inside I am frozen to the core with fear.
‘They will give us some information as soon as they have it,’ he says softly.
He speaks English fluently, his accent not as marked as I’d always imagined it.
He is obviously a well-educated man, with poise and innate elegance; the negative picture of him I’d formed in my head had clearly come from a place of anger, and I’d pegged him completely wrong.
There is no cloud of pungent aftershave surrounding him, no ostentatiously expensive suits and shirts and colourful ties that I imagined every Italian wore. Obviously the stereotypes living in my head have misled me to conjure up an image of someone who couldn’t be further away from reality.
And I never imagined that someone so put together could ever fall in love with a mess like my mother. And yet, here he is. There is truly someone for everyone.
‘Th-thank you,’ I whisper.
‘Drink,’ he says as he pours himself a glass of water. ‘There is so much to say, but you need to take care of yourself, too. We won’t be of much use to her if we’re both in a state.’
I nod, too frazzled and exhausted to utter another word.
This is insane. Two months ago if you’d told me I’d be sitting across from Aldo The Homewrecker, drinking coffee and taking his advice while agonising over my mother’s well-being, I wouldn’t have believed you.
*
Another hour later, a doctor finally approaches us and we all jump to our feet in unison. ‘Adesso è sveglia. Potete vederla, due per volta.’ She’s awake now. You can see her, two at a time.
‘Grazie, Dottore. Come, Olivia,’ Aldo says, and I have to ramp up my energy to keep up with him shooting down the corridor with the vigour of a twenty-year-old, scurrying after him until he stops at a room on the right. The door is open and immediately his face changes.
‘Amore mio,’ he breathes, smiling at her from the door.
‘Amore mio,’ my mother whispers back.
He moves aside for me to go in first despite the fact that he’s just flown in to see her.
It’s such a kind gesture towards me, especially when I know how badly he wants to be with her.
So I nod him onwards, staying on the threshold.
He looks down at me, reaches out to squeeze my hand and rushes to her side.
They are speaking in whispers, but you don’t need to hear what they are saying to feel the love between them. It is so tangible that it comes off in waves, reaching me and wrapping me up in their warmth, so intense and intimate that I have to look away.
It’s not right. Life should be lived to the full. Sixty-five years old is not old, especially in her case, as vibrant and cheerful as she is. And yet, here she is, with this disease. Cancer.
I drop my head in my hands, cursing myself over and over for not knowing, for not understanding, for not even thinking that one day she was going to die.
I don’t know how long Aldo is in there for but when he comes out, I can see that he is barely kept together by what can only be love. My heart goes out to him.
I get to my feet. ‘Aldo…’
He guides me to the door. ‘It’s all right. She’s got a broken leg and a slight concussion from the fall. She wants to see you, Olivia. Go…’
I swallow the huge boulder in my throat and nod, not wanting to let his arm go, not wanting to go in there but at the same time desperate to see my mother.
My lips are shaking but I force myself to stay calm. Like Aldo had maintained his calm in there, I can’t let her see how upset I am, either. It could have been worse. Much worse. I know it might get worse later.
*
She is attached to a monitor and a drip. The sheets are up to her chest and her arms are on top of the blanket.
‘Hey…’ she whispers, her eyes the only bright part of her face.
I rush to her bedside. ‘M-Mum… how are you…?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘I’m fine, chickie. I just tripped over my own feet, silly me.
I’m so sorry I scared you. But the good news is that I can go home forty-eight hours after they put a cast on my leg.
And I can’t wait to hug the kids. They love Sicily in the summer.
They like to play and picnic on the beach.
They love to eat tons of watermelon and throw themselves in and out of the sea all day… ’
She knows them well, after holidaying with them since they were little. Holidays that I missed out on because of my stupid, ridiculously staunch anti-mother campaign. I could just kick myself now.
‘And promise me you’ll never give up on Cassie. She’s a real gem, you know? She’s just like you, chickie…’
I cover my mouth with my hand and nod again, tears streaming down my cheeks.
‘Oh, darling, don’t cry. All will be well. But I do need you to do one last thing for me. I need you to throw away any bad thoughts in your life and make a break for happiness. Life is so, so short, Livvie. Live it to the full! Tell Markus how you feel about him.’
‘Mum—’
‘Let me finish, Livvie. Your father tells me that man loves you.’
‘He doesn’t. But I don’t want to talk about that right now…’
‘Then we’ll talk more, later,’ she whispers. ‘Go back to the clinic and pack. I’m feeling better already, and in forty-eight hours we’ll fly south.’
I nod and delicately kiss her brow, wishing I had done it a million times before, day in, day out, before her skin lost its youthful glow.
Twenty-two years. I threw away twenty-two years of having her in my life.
I know I had my reasons, and I truly had conviction in my behaviour, but now, faced with the possibility of losing my mother, it all seems so silly.
It was my choice, and mine only, not to let her make up for leaving.
I could have had a life with her. A life of phone calls, visits, holidays, jokes, fights, fits of silly laughter, shopping, lazy days on the beach and all those little things that mothers and daughters do.
Aldo shoots to his feet as I step out into the waiting room.
‘She wants to go home. And she wants my family to come…’ I tell him. ‘We’ll be there.’
He nods. ‘Yes, yes, perfect. Thank you, Olivia. It’ll be good to have her back. I’ve missed her so much…’
‘You gave her up for two months, knowing she wasn’t well… so she could spend time with me?’
‘Oh, Olivia. We owe you so much. We owe you a lifetime of happiness that we’ve managed to pack into twenty-two years so far. If we are meant to be happy for a little while longer, I’ll take every single day with gratitude.’