A Year at 32 September Way (14 page)

“Several years ago my father gave you permission to indulge in an occasional indiscretion or two. I knew about this,” Carlotta continued without meeting his gaze, “because my father and I speak about many things. It’s an accepted practice in my family for the husband to have his little flings now and then, as long as they don’t cause the wife any problems or embarrassment.”

To punctuate her last statement, Carlotta turned her head abruptly and looked Marcello square in the face. “I have recently been embarrassed after learning that we’ve been the source of gossip in the town my family helped to build. This will not go on, Marcello, and there will be no further indiscretions on your part. No matter how small they may be.”

Being confronted about an affair was one thing, but the response to that confrontation differed from family to family. In Carlotta’s and Marcello’s families, the agreement had always been to let sleeping dogs lie. Affairs were never spoken about or admitted to, and Marcello had every intention of sticking to the rule that had governed the issue in both of their families for generations. It was there for a reason, and he wouldn’t defy that now because of the town gossips.

“My dear, you have no worries there,” he reassured his wife, stretching his hand toward hers.

“I will not be patronized or cajoled,” Carlotta practically spewed under her breath, while still somehow managing to maintain a strained smile. “The little whores you like to frequent will have to find someone else to do dirty little deeds with.”

She had said “little whores,” noted Marcello. Clearly, his wife knew only of occasional affairs, but not the long-term one he’d been having with Eva. Deep down, he breathed a sigh of relief. Yet he could see that Carlotta was not just expressing the anger of a woman scorned. Her demands were serious; Marcello’s head began to spin as he tried to figure out how he’d be able to continue having sweet Eva in his life.

Carlotta took one last sip of wine, patted her lips with her cloth napkin and laid it across her plate. She bent toward Marcello to kiss him on the cheek and whispered into his ear: “The consequences of going against my wishes will far exceed anything you’ve already experienced at the hands of my family.”

She straightened her back and glanced toward the door. The wind had whipped up a bit, and the waves started crashing more loudly against the embankment. “Perhaps I’ll use the bathroom before I leave.” Then she turned from the table and walked toward the back of the restaurant.

Tilting his head back, Marcello swallowed the last swig of wine in his glass and poured himself another one. He tried to process the conversation, but it all seemed so surreal. Thoughts of what he would say to Eva carried him so far away from where he sat that he didn’t even realize someone was standing next to him until he looked up and saw Eva there.

“Eva, what are you doing here?” Marcello stammered as he snapped back to reality.

A giggle escaped her lips. “I had some unexpected free time and wanted to surprise you, darling!”

She bent down and kissed him gently on the cheek. The warmth of her breath on his face calmed his nerves for but a second before he heard Carlotta’s voice hissing in his other ear.

“I knew if I was patient enough I’d stumble on something juicy to lord over you for the rest of your life,” Carlotta seethed. She planted an exaggerated kiss on Marcello’s other cheek and then stood up to face Eva. The young German woman, the woman Marcello had grown to love, stood next to the table still as a statue with a mixture of confusion, hurt and horror on her face.

“And you, you little whore,” Carlotta spat at Eva, “my husband’s philandering days are over. There will be no more one-night stands. You can go home now. Go!”

“Your husband?”
Eva stammered as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked from Carlotta to Marcello and back, trying to make sense of it all. Surely this horrible woman must be lying. She and Marcello had been together for more than a year now; she would know if he was married. Wouldn’t she?

Eva returned her gaze to Marcello. Surely he had a logical explanation; she just knew it. He would reassure her that this older woman was a stranger or a jealous ex-girlfriend. “Marcello?” she said, waiting for the answer she was sure would put a stop to the pain that filled her heart.

The wait felt like forever, even though it had only been a few seconds. Not a word came as he looked up at her with pleading and sorrow-filled eyes before turning away and looking at the ground. A tiny gasp escaped Eva’s lips before she burst into tears and ran out of the restaurant. The two other couples in the restaurant watched the scene in silence, and the wait staff hovered around the back of the restaurant, pretending to be busy.

“The bill has been paid, and we are leaving. Get out of your chair now and walk out of the restaurant,” spat Carlotta. She stepped alongside him, and Marcello felt something hard and cold being thrust into his right side.
“Move and keep walking along with me until I tell you to do otherwise.”

The couple walked out of the restaurant and toward the boardwalk. Anyone who saw them would think they were just another local couple enjoying an afternoon walk together along the lake. Marcello’s mind raced as he tried to absorb the scene that had just played out in the restaurant while frantically trying to figure out how to calm his wife before she did something stupid and hurt one or both of them. Meanwhile, Carlotta kept the gun pushed firmly into his side, and there was no doubt in his mind that she would use it. Her behavior lately had been aggressive, often crazed. Yet he’d never felt that his life might be at-risk until now.

The same fake, thin smile stretched the skin of Carlotta’s face taut. She began to speak in a low, hushed tone that reminded Marcello of the way the lake water calmed down right before
a storm hit. Shivers ran down his spine as he listened. “I’ve accepted many things over the years. I turned the other cheek. I did my wifely duty and provided you with three children. And though I denied you my body these last years, I never embarrassed or shamed you in public. Nobody shames me!”

Carlotta’s voice echoed down the boardwalk as if it were being carried by the wind. Her increasing volume drifted toward the steps fifty feet away where Eva sat crying behind some bushes and a large tuft of decorative grass. Her hunched shoulders straightened and she peered around the grass to find the source of the wretched voice that yelled at her just moments ago.  There she saw Carlotta and Marcello standing face to face on the boardwalk. The shorter, smartly dressed Italian woman’s jet-black hair whipped around in the wind as she repeatedly thrust an accusing finger into Marcello’s chest to punctuate her words.

Marcello, who stood with his back to the beauty of Lake Garda, didn’t move an inch. But he showed none of the confidence and strength he’d always exhibited with Eva.  Standing a short distance from where she was hiding, she saw a man who looked scared—the color drained from his cheeks and a look of horror in his eyes. He’d betrayed her; for more than a year he betrayed her. Yet, she felt compelled to stay where she was and see what happened next. Whatever happened, she needed to know that he would be okay. Even though he’d made it clear with his behavior that he didn’t care about her…that he’d never cared about her…she still cared about him. Once Eva could see that he was okay, she would walk away and out of his life forever.

“Nobody shames me!” Carlotta repeated, this time yelling at the top of her lungs, knowing the sound of the waves crashing against the embankment would drown out her voice. She leaned back as if to gain momentum before ricocheting forward to spit in Marcello’s face. The gesture was enough to jolt him out of his fear. 

From her vantage point 50 feet away, Eva could hear nothing over the loud crashing of the waves. It was as if she were watching a silent movie play out before her. Carlotta’s mouth contorted and opened wide, and it looked like she was yelling at the top of her lungs. Then she’d reeled back before springing forward toward Marcello again. Had she spit at him? She couldn’t have, but then Eva saw him push Carlotta back and move to wipe something off his face—something that clearly disgusted him, judging by the way his face twisted.

The situation was quickly escalating, Eva could see that. No one else was around. No one else was there to step in and break things up. From behind the tall ornamental grass, the young woman wondered if perhaps she should intervene. But then again, what would she do? And why would she even consider doing it?

Snapping herself back to reality, she peered around the tall grass once more. Marcello was tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket. He glanced up from his pants pocket to Carlotta and said something. Eva couldn’t figure out what, but she noticed that his entire
demeanor had changed. Gesturing around quickly with his hands the way he did when he wanted to emphasize the importance of what he was saying
,
Marcello spoke to Carlotta again. Neither anger nor fear registered on his face.
Acceptance.
Acceptance was what Eva saw; he was accepting the situation or whatever Carlotta had said to him.