Chapter Twelve - Natalia
Chapter Twelve
Natalia
N atalia had left at least five voice messages and texted numerous times. She paced the floor. She was going out of her mind because he wasn’t answering, and worse, not replying. She managed to pull herself out of bed and made it to the winery. Though physically Natalia was there, mentally and emotionally speaking, she really wasn’t there at all. Her mind was thousands of miles away, in Sicily. The day was longer than usual, but she was grateful to be home—in her safe space now.
She opened the bottle of Australian Pinot Grigio that she had brought home from the winery and poured herself a glass. She pulled a filet of salmon from the freezer and dropped it into a bowl of hot water to thaw. Next, she turned on Nic’s expensive stereo system and found some music. Alina Baraz’s “Maybe” rang out from the speakers. It was a song that reminded her of what she was going through with Nic. She’d worn that entire album out when they first met.
She pulled up her hair into a ponytail on her head and then headed upstairs, the glass of wine in her hand. She placed the glass on her nightstand and began undressing as she walked into the bathroom to start the shower. She lit each of the jasmine candles that surrounded her garden tub and then stepped into the shower. Emotionally, she was drained, and hoped the water would wash away all the hurt, pain, and fear that she was feeling. Natalia wanted to cry, but forced herself not to. She was tired of crying—exhausted even.
Her phone rang and she quickly opened the glass shower door. She reached for it. Nic’s face flashed across the screen, a wide grin on his face. She’d taken that photo of him at Lu’s holiday party two years before. He’d worn a midnight blue tuxedo with a black bow tie to match its peak lapel. He’d been growing a beard for a few weeks before that. She recalled just how distinguished it looked, with just the right amount of gray in it.
She answered, “Hello.”
“You’ve been calling?” he asked.
It felt good to hear his voice. It had been days since they last spoke.
“Yes.”
“I was in the mountains today—Parco delle Madonie. I had trouble with my phone, making calls and receiving them. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I just needed to talk to you.”
“Well, talk, I’m listening.”
She cut to the chase. No need beating around the bush, because there were no guarantees that she would reach him again. “I found your box. Your letters.”
“What box? What letters?”
“The steel gray box in our closet, the one with the twenty-two letters handwritten by your little girlfriend, Angelina. That’s what box.”
She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t become emotional when she spoke with him about the letters. She wanted him to take her seriously. She didn’t want to be accusatory either, but her anger had gotten the better of her.
“What, are you rummaging through my things now?”
“I wasn’t rummaging through your things.” Her voice raised an octave. She was slowly losing her cool. “I found the key in the pocket of your robe and wanted to know what it unlocked.”
“Well, obviously you found what you were looking for.”
“So, what do you have to say for yourself? Do you share her sentiments? All those things she talked about in her letters. Do you love her like she so obviously loves you?”
“I’m not having this conversation right now.”
“Well, I want to have this conversation right now, Nicolai!”
“Not now. My daughter is here with me now.”
“Is Angelina also with you right now?”
“I’m not doing this,” his voice raised.
“I want answers! Do you love her like she loves you?”
“I’m hanging up the phone.”
“Don’t you hang up on me.”
“I’m hanging up, Natalia. I’m not doing this with you right now.”
“Don’t you hang . . .”
The phone went dead. He was gone. With no explanation, he was gone. She collapsed on the shower floor. Her soaking-wet bottom hit the marble; it was cold against her skin. As much as she’d wanted to hold it together, she couldn’t any longer. The tears flowed.