A Year at 32 September Way (13 page)

Sadness washed over him, and he removed the handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow again. There was nothing worse in the world than being stuck in a bad situation, knowing it was likely to get worse, and being helpless to do anything about it. The only thing that could make things worse for Marcello was if the knot in the pit of his stomach turned out to be the warning of worse things to come.

***

The last swig of coffee in the bottom of the cup was just enough to wash down the birth control pill sitting in its packet on the table. Nicolette popped the pill into her mouth and washed it down with the coffee as she cradled the phone against her ear with her other hand. Josh was on the phone rattling on about the scene they were filming that
day,
and Nicolette half-listened as she stared into the open wardrobe and considered her outfit for the evening.

“
Mmm
-hmm” she responded when Josh asked if she was going to spend time with Carlisle and Eva as he’d suggested. “We’re getting together for lunch this afternoon,” she lied.

Her husband continued rambling on until it was time for them to resume filming. “I’m really looking forward to getting back to you this weekend,” he said in closing. “I’d like to spend a little more time trying to start a family with my beautiful wife.”

“Oh, me too, sweetheart,” Nicolette replied as she poured a small amount of white powder onto the clean kitchen tabletop. “I’m looking forward to that, too.”

“Finally,” she muttered to herself as she hung up the phone and neatened up the thin white powdery line with the single-edged razor blade. In one fluid motion, she laid a slender finger alongside her left nostril and closed it. Bending close to the powder, Nicolette inhaled sharply; in a second, it was gone. She brushed her finger across her nose to remove stray powdery crystals as a rush of energy coursed through her veins. Feelings of euphoria and invincibility resurrected themselves in her mind. 

“Now, I’m ready to start my day,” the thin blonde said to her reflection in the mirror. She pushed the spaghetti straps over her shoulders and let the nightgown fall to the floor. Turning to the left and right as she stood naked in front of the full-length mirror, Nicolette tried to imagine what she might look like if she were pregnant. She ran a hand over her flat stomach and looked at her perfect figure from all angles.

She stepped away from the mirror and pulled the sheath dress and jacket she’d chosen for the daytime out of the wardrobe. As the dress came down over her head, she pulled up the side zipper and stepped in front of the mirror again. Nicolette faced the mirror, resting her hands on the hip bones that jutted out from her body. “No, there’s no way,” she said out loud. “There’s no way I’m getting pregnant now that I’ve finally been able to get a little fun back in my life. I’ve given up enough already. Now it’s my turn.”

***

The crisp December breeze gently brushed Carlisle’s hands as her fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard. Her new story was coming along well, and the words continued to flow. Early on, she’d determined that this one would be dedicated to the memory of Will and Anna, and she often sensed them around her when she wrote.

There were many days when the sadness of losing them crept back in but, even though it still hurt, remembering no longer felt like a dagger plunging deep into her heart. Carlisle identified heavily with the main character in the novel she was writing…a woman in her thirties who had everything going for her except a family. As she unraveled her character’s feelings and thoughts with each writing session, Carlisle found herself reflecting on some of the same things. Was it her destiny to experience wonderful things and places but have no one to share them with?

She couldn’t imagine betraying the memories of Will and Anna by entering into another relationship. No, she wouldn’t become involved with anyone, she decided. Yet, the subject continued to dig its way out of the recesses of her mind and find its way back to the forefront every time she sat down to work on her novel.

“You’re identifying too much with your characters,” Carlisle warned herself as she glanced out the window. “Let
yourself
heal and start to enjoy life,” she thought out loud. “Some people are just meant to be alone.”

***

“Due
biglietti
,” Charles repeated to himself slowly. His Italian was coming along slowly but surely, thanks to Sofia. But he’d taught himself how to ask for two tickets so he could surprise Sofia with concert tickets at the Arena di Verona.  The famous Roman arena had been standing in what was now the center of the city for 2,000 years. Roman spectators had once viewed games and shows there, but it was now open for tourists year-round and the host to several famous operas during the summertime. Although opera season had long since ended for the year, a special holiday concert was scheduled in the arena, which Charles thought was a perfect surprise for Sofia.

Over the past several weeks, her monthly visits had increased to every other week, and Charles had grown especially fond of her. Being around her brought out the best in him, and her presence gently coaxed forth a side of him he’d refused to acknowledge for so long. He’d spent many years dismissing thoughts of love, romance and the idea that there might be someone to share his life with. At first, it was frightening to allow those thoughts to wander back into his mind. But as time wore on, they became more familiar and comfortable, just as Sofia’s presence in his life had become.

As his confidence and bravery became fortified by her gentle encouragement and patient support, Charles found himself realizing that being friends with Sofia was no longer enough for him. He wanted more than just her friendship and longed to see if there might be the chance for them to have a life together. The plan was to ask her to be his girlfriend at the concert.

Charles walked down Via
Settembre
toward the Piazza
delle
Erbe
, which had been transformed from a regular daily open-air market into a Christmas market. Tiny twinkling lights sparkled from each station, and the strains of festive holiday music danced from the radio where the man who sold t-shirts during tourist season was tidying his display of Verona-themed Christmas ornaments. The two gentlemen’s gazes met, and they smiled and nodded to acknowledge one another.

The piazza faded into the background as Charles strode past the shops flanking the marble-paved walkway of the shopping district. His shoes made a rhythmic click-clack sound on the cold stone surface. Glancing toward a suit that was on display in a shop window, Charles caught a glimpse of his own reflection. At first he thought maybe it was someone else’s, but then he looked around to find no one else there. Could it really have been his? 

The tall man had been walking with a spring in his step. Now, standing squarely in front of the store window, he stood straight and tall with air of confidence. The worried creases above his brow were gone, and a peaceful smile gently teased his lips apart. The Charles who stood in front of the store window was not the same one who’d arrived in Verona just three months before. Slowly, he’d been transforming into the man who stood before him today without
even realizing it. Coming to Verona had been good for him, and having Sofia in his life had made it even better.

With a subtle nod toward his reflection in the window, Charles turned on his heels and continued down the street. A narrow section of the ancient limestone amphitheater came into view as he turned the corner and walked toward the Piazza Bra. What a special and magical place it would be to tell Sofia how he felt about her and how grateful he was to have her in his life.

Chapter 10

Eva was familiar with the bus route from Verona to
Bardolino
, thanks to her monthly excursions around Lake Garda. She pushed up the cuff of her jacket and glanced at her watch; it was nearly 12:30, and
Bardolino
was only ten minutes away. Once she exited the bus, she’d need another ten minutes to walk to the restaurant Marcello had mentioned earlier. A smile spread across her face as she thought about the surprised look on his face when she showed up. Eva didn’t have many opportunities to surprise Marcello, but today she wanted to cheer him up. He’d been nervous and on edge for weeks.

Marcello was a complicated man, for sure, but Eva knew he loved her. Theirs wasn’t an easy relationship, and his roller-coaster emotions could be exhausting. Yet she was drawn to him like she’d never been to anyone else. Differences in age, country or culture sometimes complicated things, but they certainly wouldn’t hold Eva back from being with the man she loved.

The first few months in Verona had been challenging, with a more difficult adjustment period for her (and for them) than Eva had anticipated. His empty promises had left her hanging more than once, and she’d been just about ready to call it quits. But their near-breakup, followed by Marcello being hit by a speeding scooter, made her realize how important he was to her and how much she wanted things to work out for them.

Since the scooter accident, they’d spent less time together, but when Marcello said he would come, he did. The days of empty promises seemed to have ended, allowing a new bond of trust to grow between them. Their lovemaking became sweeter and more intimate, and Eva could see that Marcello cherished their time together. Something was changing in him, though she couldn’t be sure what it was. Whatever was going on, it was definitely for the better, and Eva was glad she’d given him one more chance.

“
Bardolino
,” called the bus driver as he pulled to a stop. A teenage boy with iPod music blaring in his ears and an elderly couple exited the bus ahead of Eva. The other three passengers walked down the first side street, heading directly toward the downtown area. Eva continued on until she reached the third side street—a little detour that would allow her to walk along the boardwalk for a few minutes before heading to the restaurant. The December air was crisp and cool, and she loved listening to the waves crashing against the stone embankment between the water and the boardwalk. Similar to the old stones that had become
smoother with
time,
the rough edges of her relationship with Marcello were slowly being smoothed away. Eva felt as invigorated by her thoughts about their future as she was by the mist of cold lake water that travelled on the wind, landing softly against her cheeks.

***

Ever punctual, Carlotta strode down the street toward the restaurant at exactly the time she’d said she would. Marcello caught a glimpse of her from about two blocks away and watched her figure drawing near. The glass of white wine had eased his nerves some, but he knew he’d feel better once this luncheon was over. Making social appearances to keep the town gossips quiet was not his style, and the growing tension between him and Carlotta left Marcello wanting to spend less time along the lake or in the vineyards of
Bardolino
.

Even as a middle-aged woman, Carlotta was beautiful. The slender, curvaceous body she’d had when they’d first met had filled out a bit over the years, but she was far from fat. “Soft” was probably a better word for it, Marcello thought. Her hair still fell to her shoulder blades when she wore it down, and it was as jet-black as ever, although he knew she colored it to hide the increasing number of gray hairs. By appearances, no one would ever know how wild and ugly Carlotta had become on the inside.

Marcello knew the years had changed them both. It seemed that, finally, the changes had grown to be too much for them to bear as a couple. In the past, no matter how busy Carlotta had been with the children or with the wine business and regardless of how busy Marcello had been with either family’s business, they had always found time to spend together. A few days each week were relegated for family time, and a few nights each week were spent alone together, sipping wine, talking about the week and making love.

“Where did it all disappear to?” Marcello wondered to himself. Wherever it was, he knew it was irretrievable now. All that was holding him and Carlotta together was the vineyard, the three children they’d brought into the world and pressure from her family. But with Marcos, Lorenzo and Sofia grown and out on their own, even they were no longer a sufficient reason to keep trying to repair the crumbling bits of their marriage.

Carlotta approached the table, and Marcello rose to greet her properly. They exchanged the traditional kiss on each other’s cheeks before Carlotta reached up with her right hand to caress Marcello’s cheek and kiss him tenderly on the lips. It was all for show, he knew it, but for a moment he remembered the times when kisses like that were sincere.

“A bottle of wine and two glasses,” Marcello said as he and Carlotta retreated indoors to another table. They sat near a window and made small talk about old acquaintances, new businesses in town and the upcoming holidays. To the outside world, they’d have looked like any other married couple enjoying a lunch out together.

“Some things will be changing soon,” Carlotta said quietly as she shifted away from small talk. The tension that had receded earlier began to rise again, yet her plastered-on smile remained in place. Her eyes gazed out the front door, toward the waves in the lake. As
Carlotta continued talking to him, it almost seemed as though she’d become disconnected from the conversation and even from herself.