Chapter Five - Natalia
Chapter Five
Natalia
T he lyrics of Lady Gaga’s “Always Remember Us This Way” played faintly from the speaker mounted above. The waves seemed to be dancing to the beat just a few feet away. It was such a beautiful night. Springtime on the Jersey Shore was warm enough for sunbathing or a little dip in the ocean.
Lu’s flower beds around the veranda were fragrant. The daylilies and colorful perennials attracted butterflies and hummingbirds on the island. She reached over the wooden railing and plucked one of the daylilies, its scent like jasmine. She loved Lu’s seaside inn. Heck, she loved Cape May and the life she’d built there with Nic.
“Earth to Natalia.” Lu waved her hand in the air.
“You okay?” Kenya asked.
“Of course. Just a little tired. It’s been a long day.”
“He isn’t back home.” It was more of a statement, not a question from Kenya.
Natalia put a smile on her face. Not a real one, but it was all she could muster without tears. “Not quite.”
Lu frowned. “What? I thought for sure he’d stop being an ass and come back home by now.”
After their last huge argument about her obsessing over having a child, Nic had moved out of their home in Cape May. It was almost as if he’d started the argument to justify his leaving. He’d claimed that they needed some space. A temporary arrangement , he’d said. It didn’t matter that she thought time apart was the last thing they needed, he moved anyway. That was three weeks ago.
“Is he at least talking to you again?” Kenya asked.
“We haven’t spoken in a few days.” She hated saying it aloud because that made it real, and by speaking it, she’d have to face it. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit that her marriage was on the decline, let alone deal with it.
Lu gripped Natalia’s hands in hers. “Things will work out.”
Kenya placed her hands on top of Lu’s.
Natalia fought back tears. Her voice cracked. “Hope so.”
She hadn’t told them everything. They would judge Nic, and she didn’t need that right now. They would worry about her, and she didn’t need that either. The truth was, she hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since Nic left for Sicily. She wasn’t even aware that he’d left the country. He’d been staying at one of his firm’s corporate apartments in the city and hadn’t slept in their home. He claimed it was easier to commute back and forth to the office if he stayed in Atlantic City. Then he casually mentioned his location when they spoke a few days ago.
“Well, I have something that will cheer you up, sister,” said Lu. She motioned for Lorenzo.
“Are we ready?” he asked.
“We are indeed.”
A few minutes later, Lorenzo emerged from the kitchen with three desserts. He placed one in front of each of them.
“Oh my God. Is this what I think it is?” Natalia asked.
“Pastéis de nata!” Lorenzo said in his strong accent, handing Natalia a spoon.
“This is so amazing. You are so amazing.” She smiled at Lorenzo. The dessert reminded Natalia of her childhood, reminded her of home. It also reminded her of her grandmother, Leonor—God rest her soul—with whom she’d always been close. Gram Leonor had made pastéis de nata often when she was growing up in Portugal, and especially during times when Natalia was feeling down. Grandmothers were special that way. They always knew just the thing that would make everything better.
Lorenzo’s eyes danced at the compliment. His smile, with perfect white teeth, was the brightest ray of sunshine. The touch of gray in his beard and on his temples made him look distinguished, but Natalia always thought he acted younger than he looked. She was always careful, though, not to stare, for fear of him getting the wrong idea. But he was certainly handsome, in her opinion. Though he was Argentinean, he’d spent some years cooking in Portugal. They’d talked about that before.
“I will grab the wine,” he said and disappeared into the kitchen.
“He’s such a cutie.” Kenya was the first to dip her spoon into the tart, tasted it. “So yummy.”
“Him or the dessert?” Lu asked with a giggle.
“Both.”
The ladies laughed.
“This is certainly a surprise.” Natalia smiled at Lu. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome, my friend. I asked Lorenzo to make you something special. I remember you telling me how your grandmother’s dessert always cheered you up when you were feeling down. I know that you’re having a hard time right now. But believe me when I tell you, this too shall pass.”
“Yes, it will,” Kenya chimed in. “Look at me. I’m a perfectly functioning adult after all I’ve been through.”
“Barely.” Lu laughed.
“Yes, barely functioning, but you get it.”
“You just need a little sex in your life,” Lu teased. “Clean out those cobwebs.”
“I have sex in my life, thank you very much. I have a little friend. He runs by battery.”
“Oh my God!” Natalia blushed and then shushed her friends before Lorenzo returned with the wine.
The trio giggled as he poured sweet sherry into each of their glasses.
Natalia changed the subject. “So, how soon will you leave for Sacramento?”
“I’m thinking next week.”
“That’s soon,” Kenya said, “but I’m good. I’ll put the time in tomorrow.”
“I’m really happy that you’re going.” Natalia savored her dessert and then took a sip of her sherry.
“Me too,” Lu admitted.
“Yesterday, you just had Yana. Now you have an entire family,” said Kenya.
“Imagine that,” Lu said sarcastically.
They all giggled.
* * *
After dinner, Natalia made her way back up the stretch of the beach with Kenya. She bid her friend a good night and watched as she stepped inside and turned on the light. She walked the rest of the way to her two-story beachfront home. She and Kenya had been intentional about finding homes near Lu’s Seaside Inn. As luck would have it, they’d both found oceanfront properties, not just close but within walking distance of the inn and each other.
She dropped her sandals in the mudroom and flipped on a hallway light. Her bare feet pitter-pattered against the mahogany hardwood as she made her way upstairs to the master bedroom. She pulled up her hair, undressed, and then wrapped her body in Nic’s thick white robe. Natalia turned on the television and found some soothing music on the Pandora app.
She stuck her hands into the pockets of the robe and was surprised to find a package of Marlboro cigarettes. Though he’d claimed to have quit, she was constantly finding little telltale signs that Nic was still smoking. There were signs he was doing a lot of things that he shouldn’t have been. She’d always warned him that smoking caused cancer, just like it had for Kenya’s late husband, Glen. Unbeknownst to his wife, Glen was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. It was a secret he’d shared with Nic before Glen’s fatal car accident and had sworn him to secrecy. All would’ve been well and good in the universe, but Natalia had the misfortune of overhearing Glen’s secret, thus placing her in the most dreadful position of her life.
She’d heard them talking one night right outside her patio window. She’d opened the window to catch a breeze and what she’d heard changed her life, giving her the burden that she’d been bearing for the past three years.
“I have cancer. Stage four lung cancer. I haven’t told Kenya. In fact, I haven’t told anyone— but you .”
“Stage four is pretty serious, man,” she heard Nic say. “Don’t you think it’s serious enough to tell your wife?”
“I’ll tell her in my own time,” Glen said. “The doctors think that I should do chemo. I’m not interested in any of it. Those drugs are nothing but poison, give a false sense of hope.”
“I’ve known people who have added years to their lives with chemotherapy and radiation therapy. Wouldn’t it be worth it to have a few extra years with Kenya?”
“It puts such a strain on your body, and a strain on the lives of your loved ones. I’d have a few extra years, but what type of quality of life would I have? Cancer’s bad enough, but the hardship that those treatments place on your family. I won’t put her through it. I’d rather die in peace, knowing that I protected her from it.”
“Wow, man. I had no idea.”
“Yeah. I’m just getting my affairs in order. I want to make sure my wife is taken care of. You know?”
“I hear you.”
There was a long pause between the men—they were both silent. Natalia covered her mouth as she took it all in. Hearing Glen’s words had caused her to cry and feel a piercing in her heart. It took everything in her not to pick up the phone and call Kenya right then and tell her all that she’d heard. She wanted to warn her friend, prepare her for what lay ahead. Perhaps she could urge Kenya to plead with her husband to seek treatment. In fact, she wanted to rush outside on that deck and urge Glen herself—to fight for his life—if not for him, for her friend. But to do that, she would’ve had to admit that she’d been eavesdropping in the first place. What gave her the right to stick her nose in their lives unwarranted anyway?
She’d been edgy and fidgety and unable to focus the entire next day at the winery. What type of friend would she be if she kept this from Kenya? A million questions just like this one had clouded her brain all day. She finally resolved that Kenya needed to know, had a right to know, in fact. After meditating about it, Natalia decided that Kenya should have a say in her husband’s future— her future . She deserved at least that. Natalia’s drive from the winery back home seemed to be the longest one of her life, as she’d contemplated the words that she would use to tell her friend—what might possibly be—the worst news of her life. She rehearsed what she would say. As she replayed Glen’s heartbreaking words in her head, I’d rather die in peace knowing that I protected her from this, tears filled her eyes again, just as they had the night before. Didn’t she have an obligation to tell her friend what she knew?
She had contemplated calling Kenya at her law office but decided that wasn’t the type of news to be revealed over the phone. No, this was something that needed to be shared in person, and it needed to be sooner rather than later. She stood in her kitchen staring at the ocean just outside the window for a moment. Her mind raced as she dressed a piece of salmon with cloves of garlic, herbs, and lemon juice, placing the fish in a saucepan and then into the oven. She glanced at the television, which was mounted in the corner of the wall. The newscaster was reporting at the scene of a horrific car accident. The visual of several paramedics and a mangled sports car on the interstate was what caught her attention. She grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume on the television. She listened as the newscaster described the events of the fatal crash.
Her phone rang and she struggled to peel her eyes from the television. She grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter and saw Nic’s face on the screen of her phone. She answered right away.
“Turn on the news!” He was frantic. “Glen was in a car accident. It’s all over the news.”
“I’m watching. I thought that car looked familiar. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know, but you need to get Kenya on the phone right away. Let her know.”
“Okay, I will.” She hung up. Her heart began to beat fast. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she searched for Kenya’s phone number—a number that she dialed nearly every single day of her life. She breathed in through her nose and then breathed out through her mouth as she tried to calm herself. Natalia closed her eyes and then opened them. She continued to search for Kenya’s number again.
As she searched, she heard the news reporter say, “. . . and the man driving the newer model Mercedes has been identified as forty-five-year-old Glen Allen of Cape May, who died at the scene . . .”
Those words seemed to trail in her head— died at the scene . The screen of the iPhone shattered as it hit the floor. Natalia shrieked as her body slid down the side of her white cabinets and onto the floor. She covered her mouth with both hands, tears streaming down her face. She heard the reporter’s words again in her head and tried to wish them away. She tried to convince herself that they had it all wrong—that Glen was still very much alive. It felt like she was stuck in a nightmare as she continued to listen to the newscaster’s words.
“. . . the driver of the eighteen-wheeler, who we’re told survived the fatal collision, has been taken to Cape Regional Hospital. Authorities are trying to make sense of how the Mercedes ended up in the lane of oncoming traffic to begin with . . . ”
Natalia closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t help but wonder if Glen’s death had truly been an accident. There was no reasonable explanation for how his car had veered over into the wrong lane. The thought of it troubled her. She managed to pick up the iPhone from the floor and finally dialed Kenya’s number. There was no answer. Instead, she received her voicemail.
Her voice shook as she managed the words. “Kenya, I need for you to call me right away. It’s an emergency. It’s about Glen.”
After Glen’s death, Kenya had been in such a dark place. There never seemed to be a right time for Natalia to reveal the news about his cancer. It would’ve only intensified her grief. Kenya had her hands full just dealing with Glen’s death, and she wasn’t navigating that very well. Natalia argued— with herself —that if Kenya knew, she’d have tortured herself over it. And besides, now it was a moot issue. Natalia thought there was no value in her knowing, as there was nothing that Kenya could’ve done to change it. It was better left unsaid, so Natalia had buried that secret right along with Glen. Three years later, that secret was still buried.
She stepped out onto the deck just off the master bedroom that overlooked the ocean, slid a Marlboro out of its package, lit it, and took a long drag from the cigarette. Natalia didn’t smoke. She’d only tried it a few times in college, but it had never been her vice. She needed it now, though. Her emotions were all over the place, and she’d hoped to reel them in a bit. She needed her husband back home where he belonged. In Cape May, with her, but she knew that wasn’t happening, at least not anytime soon.
In her heart of hearts, she knew that he was with Angelina quite possibly at that very moment. The thought of it tore her apart and there was nothing she could do about it. She felt helpless. Her eyes watered. She thought about the conversation she’d had with Nic days before. The one that had left her feeling hopeless.
He’d said , “I needed to come home. Needed to be with my family.”
“What about me? I’m your family. We need to work through this, and we can’t if you’re there and not here.”
“I can’t deal with this right now. I’m tired of all the fertility treatments, all the doctors, all your craziness about it. You’re obsessed with this whole baby thing, and I can’t deal with it.”
“You know how badly I want to be a mother. How badly I want a child of my own to love—for us to love. And I resent that she was able to give you a child and I’m not.”
“This has nothing to do with Angelina.”
“It has everything to do with her. Why can’t you see that?”
“That’s the problem, Natalia. You’re focused on the wrong things.”
She took a deep breath, calmed herself. “Have you seen your daughter?”
“Yes, I’ve seen her.”
“So, I guess that means that you’ve seen Angelina as well.”
“Of course I’ve seen her. She’s Bella’s mother.”
Bella was two when Natalia met Nic. They both happened to be on holiday in Duoro Valley, Portugal—Natalia’s home. He’d visited her family’s vineyard, and she’d been the one to show him around. He’d been fascinated by the vineyard and her. They fell in love instantly.
Natalia’s family had been in the winemaking business for centuries. Her great-grandparents had worked the vineyard and then ultimately passed it down to her grandfather. When her parents arrived in the United States in the late seventies, they continued the family’s winemaking tradition by starting another vineyard in Cape May. It was where Natalia and her sister learned the business, and when their parents were no longer able to operate the vineyard, Natalia and her sister took over operations.
“When are you coming home? Not just home to the US but to our home, here, in Cape May?”
“I don’t know.”
That was all he’d said before hanging up.
She blew the last puff of smoke into the air, put the cigarette out, stepped back into the house, and started the shower. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror until the steam began to block her view. She stuck her hand into the opposite pocket of the robe. She could feel something in there and pulled it out to see what it was. It was a small silver key. She wondered what on earth it unlocked. In fact, she wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep until she figured it out. She went back into the bedroom, opened Nic’s bedside dresser drawer. There were a few personal things—allergy medicines, a nail clipper, a book. But nothing that a key would unlock.
She sat on the bed to think for a moment before making her way to their walk-in closet, to his side, and started sorting through his things, moving items about. She’d never been the type to invade his privacy, but she felt the need to now.
An old saying came to mind: If you go looking for things, you’re sure to find them .
She didn’t care. She was looking, and with great intent. She tore up the closet in search of something— anything . She needed to know what this key unlocked. When she finally stumbled upon the gray steel box, her hands shook as she tried the key. It turned with ease. Opening it, she could see several letters addressed to Nic at his architectural firm. The return address was Angelina’s.
Sitting in the middle of the floor of her closet, she placed the letters in chronological order. Some of them dated as far back as when she and Nic first got married, and some of them had been written as recently as the past couple of months.
The scent of sweet perfume oozed from each page, with a white, pink, or red oleander tucked inside of every single envelope.
Natalia pulled out one of the letters and read a few lines. This wasn’t a note from a woman interested in coparenting their small child. No, this was much more intimate.
Her hands trembled as she began to read them one by one. Letters filled with lots of passion, some heartache and pain, and a few ultimatums. She cried with each handwritten letter. When she’d finally read the last one, Natalia was certain that Angelina wanted nothing more than to have him back in Sicily, with her .
She thought of her phone call with Nic. His words stuck with her. “Natalia, this is why we can’t move forward. I fear that this whole obsession with having a child is about Angelina. You’re so insecure.”
He was wrong. Her obsession was that she desperately wanted a child of her own. However, she’d have agreed with him and thought herself to be insecure had she not read the letters. In every one of them—all twenty-two of them—Angelina expressed not only her undying love for Nic but her dislike for Natalia. You were supposed to have married me, but instead you went away and fell for a woman who can’t even give you a child. What good is a barren woman, Nicolai? What good is she? And she’s not even Sicilian . Her words cut deep.
It was true, Natalia wasn’t Sicilian. She was Portuguese. She was Catholic, at least, which was something his parents took comfort in, knowing before they’d exchanged vows at the little Roman Catholic chapel in his hometown of Catania.
“I’m not insecure,” she had whispered to him through tears.
She wasn’t insecure. No, she was equipped now. She was certain that Nic had no intention of her ever opening his little gray box. He knew she wasn’t the type to pry, which was probably why he hadn’t been more careful. But now that she had pried, she needed to figure out what she would do with the information that she’d found. Still on the floor, she attempted to regain her composure, wiped away the tears, but she was still numb.
She reflected on her dinner with Lu and Kenya, and how she’d wanted to tell them exactly what was going on in her miserable world. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. They both had their own stuff and she refused to bring them down because she was. One of these days she’d tell them just how bad things really were, but until then, she’d just be happy that John Samuels had come back into Lu’s life. This way, she could continue to live her own lie.