Silence Is Golden (27 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I wake up this morning and see that Aris has already gotten out of bed. Laboriously, as usual, I go to the bathroom, then head into the living room, looking for him. He’s seated at the table, set for two. He smiles and motions for me to sit. In the center of my plate is a box that I remember well.

“I know,” he says. “It’s long overdue. And I know you’re a week away from your due date. But I wanted to ask you before the birth. I wanted to make sure that you’d forgiven me, and that there’s no more uncertainty between us.”

I open the box, even though I know what’s inside. I remember that sapphire ring all too well.

“But how . . . ,” I try to say.

“Don’t think about that right now,” he interrupts, getting up and coming over to my side of the table. He kneels in front of me, and I start laughing.

“Do you know how many times you’ve knelt in front of me? I’m glad you at least cleaned the floor first . . .”

Aris laughs politely. He actually seems anxious. Is he unsure of my answer?

“Emilia Russo,” he says, in such an official voice, “will you marry me?”

He looks so beautiful with his big blue eyes. I want to savor the moment before I answer. But of course, I can’t do that to him.

“Of course I will.”

We hug, and I topple over with my obscenely large stomach. We end up sprawled on the floor, kissing and touching, lost in our own little world.

Later, Aris tells me that he took care of some practical matters before he left Bren.

“I got my birth certificate and other important documents from my house before I sold it. We need your birth certificate too, but maybe we can get it in Abruzzo.”

“I can’t make that kind of trip right now, darling. I just can’t.”

“Did you just call me darling?” Aris asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ve never called me that before.”

“I didn’t really think about it. Does it bother you? I won’t call you that if you don’t like it.”

“Actually, I could get used to it, and make you always call me that.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Why does this all have to come to an end? But I don’t say that out loud.

“So I think we have to go to city hall to register,” Aris says.

“Yeah. But we could also wait till later.”

He looks me right in the eye. “I really want us to be married before the baby comes. I really think it should happen that way.”

I kiss his carpenter’s mark. “All right,
darling
,” I reply, smiling. “If it means that much to you, we can go to city hall.”

We’re lucky. The clerk at the registrar’s office gazes at us with compassion. We’re so clearly in love, and we’re expecting a baby. She moves the computer mouse around, types something, and then makes a phone call to the Abruzzan Office of the Civil Registry. Ten minutes later, they’ve faxed over my birth certificate.

“Good luck, you two,” she says.

We smile in response, too touched and grateful for words. We head over to the wedding registrar, where we encounter our first obstacle.

“The publication must be posted one week before the ceremony,” says the clerk.

“But in a week . . . ,” I answer.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, as if to say that unfortunately, her hands are tied. We try to find a loophole, but we both know that there isn’t one. Starting tomorrow, the publication of the marriage between Emilia Russo and Aris Martini will be posted on the bulletin board in Milan’s Office of the Civil Registry. But we’re not sure if we’ll be able to come back in a week to get married. Daniel could decide otherwise. Dejected, we leave. We don’t say anything until we get home, when I break the silence.

“You know what, Aris? I really don’t want to get married without my family around me.”

He stares at me blankly.

“What will Emma, Giorgia, Benedetto, and Linda say when they find out we got married without them? They can make travel arrangements this week, and Daniel will wait. I can feel it.”

Aris hugs me, then showers kisses all over my face.

“They should invent another way of saying ‘I love you,’ otherwise you’re going to eventually get tired of hearing it,” he murmurs in between kisses.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

Everyone arrives later that week. After hugs and pleasantries, and after an adorable moment in which Giorgia turns bright red after Aris smiles at her, we all sit down in the living room. Emma, with her usual sense of practicality, voices the concerns I know we all share.

“So. We’ve got a wedding to plan in six hours or less.”

We laugh but let her finish.

“You,” she says, pointing at Aris. “That hair is much too long. And I’m guessing that you don’t have anything but those jeans and your usual carpenter’s attire, am I right?”

Aris nods, guiltily. Emma gives Benedetto and Linda a look that says, “He’s a disaster now, but we can work with it.”

“You’ll have to take him to get his hair cut and find him some normal pants. And a clean white shirt. Okay?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Benedetto replies, and he’s as happy as I’ve seen him in a long time.

“So what are you waiting for then? Let’s go!”

The three of them disappear within a few seconds. Emma can really instill fear in people.

“And you,” she says, turning to me. “I don’t know how we’re going to find a dress that will fit you.”

I lower my head, slightly ashamed.

“I think I may have a solution,” she adds, more gently.

I watch her grab her travel bag. She pulls out a beautiful floral dress in shades of pink and blue.

“This is what I wore when I was expecting Giorgia,” she says, gazing at her daughter. “It’s not white, and it’s certainly not a wedding dress, but I’ve always loved it.”

I struggle to stand up, then I gather it in my arms.

“It’s absolutely perfect!” I exclaim, hugging her.

“And we’ll have to do something with your hair.”

“It’s always had a mind of its own.”

“Well, that’s because it hasn’t had to deal with me yet,” she says defiantly.

“And the flowers?” Giorgia intervenes. “A bride isn’t a bride without a bouquet.”

“You’re absolutely right, my dear. You clearly take after your mother,” Emma replies, hugging her too. “After we tame Emilia’s hair, we’ll go find the most beautiful bouquet in Milan, even though it will never measure up to what we would have made her . . .”

I guess even my hair is intimidated by Emma, because it behaves under her touch, obediently submitting to the comb and bobby pins she’s working through it. All of a sudden, I feel something in my stomach, and a shudder runs through me. I must have turned pale, because Emma freezes with the comb in midair.

“What’s wrong?”

“I felt something . . .”

“A contraction?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” she says, starting to comb my hair again. “That’s normal. Have you felt anything like that over the past few days?”

“No.”

“Then don’t worry. The real ones will feel a lot bigger than that. Just relax.”

I don’t tell her that there’s no way in hell I can relax. So I simply admire what she’s doing to my hair. When she’s all done, I look like a different person. I don’t know if I want it like this forever, but it’s perfect for today. Instead of sticking straight up as usual, my hair is softly framing my face. Giorgia says that I finally look like a woman.

“What did she look like before?”

“Sorry, Emilia, but as thin as you are—er,
were
—and with your short hair, when you wore pants, you sometimes looked like a little boy.”

I burst out laughing. Hooray for honesty. Emma wants to go look for flowers now, but she’s afraid to leave me alone.

“I’m sure it was a false alarm,” she says, referring to the contraction I thought I’d felt, “but I’d prefer if Giorgia stayed here with you.”

“If you don’t mind,” I tell her. Giorgia willingly accepts, and Emma leaves in search of my bouquet.

I make us some tea. Giorgia seems slightly embarrassed. To be honest, I’m on pins and needles myself. We haven’t actually been alone since our reconciliation, and I worry that Aris will always be a sore subject for her. After all, you never forget your first love. We sit down, holding our teacups.

“Are you afraid of giving birth?”

“Not really. The fact is, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe it’s better that way,” I say, laughing.

“Mom says it was the worst pain she’s ever experienced,” she tells me, with a kind of frankness she must have inherited from Emma and the lack of tact that seems to be typical in teenagers.

“That’s great to hear.”

“But she also says that once she saw me, everything was worth it.”

“I hope that’ll be true for me too.”

“Of course it will. You’re his mother. You really think God doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

“God?”

“Sure. He sent Daniel to you and Aris. Your son will be beautiful, and you’ll love him.”

I smile. Wouldn’t it be great if everything were that simple? Just then, Aris, Benedetto, and Linda return home. Aris immediately heads over to greet me, but stops before he gets too close. He looks at me with a puzzled expression.

“Where did your mop go?” he asks, laughing.

“Where did
yours
go?” I reply.

His beautiful blond hair has been cut above his cheekbones and no longer covers his eyes when his head moves. How am I going to tuck strands behind his ear now? Benedetto is carrying a shopping bag from a clothing store, and Linda has one from a shoe store. Oh God, what are they going to do to my beloved Aris? Emma then returns with a bouquet of blue and yellow roses.

“I thought you might like a more nontraditional approach,” she says with a smile.

I gaze at them all, and I’m about to burst into tears. Aris notices and leads me into the bedroom, calling out apologies as we go. He shuts the door behind him.

“I know,” he says, taking my face in his hands. “You cry when you’re happy just like you do when you’re in pain. How bizarre.”

We laugh, holding each other, when I feel another contraction.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I think we’d better get a move on,” I say. “Daniel is getting impatient.”

“Hey, little guy,” Aris says, talking to my belly. “Hang in there a little bit longer. Let me marry your mother first.”

Emma and Benedetto are our witnesses. Linda holds my bouquet, and Giorgia has a blue velvet box that Emma gave her shortly before the ceremony. I questioningly look at the box, then at Emma, but she just smiles at me. Aris looks more beautiful than ever, wearing blue pants and a crisp white shirt. His blue eyes pop now that his face is no longer hidden by his hair. I’m exhausted, and I try to concentrate on what the civil registry officer is saying. I can’t help but feel that time is running out. I had those supposedly false contractions in the car all the way here, and they’ve become increasingly frequent.

Aris is beaming at me. I bravely try to respond with the same level of enthusiasm, but I’m starting to sweat, and it’s not because it’s too warm in here. I say my I-dos while thinking that it’s only a formality, that what really matters is what I said to Aris on that stormy night when we first made love. As Aris says his vows, he looks straight at me, holding my hands tightly. I swear I can hear him say the word
forever
in his head. A tear slides down my cheek, and for just one moment, I forget about the contractions, our friends, and everything else around me. I remember Aris on that first day in the carpenter’s shop. I’ve loved him ever since then. I say the word
forever
in my head too, and his eyes narrow slightly. He understands. Giorgia produces two gold bands from the blue velvet box. Aris slips one on my ring finger. I barely have time to put his on and hear the registry officer declare us husband and wife before a violent contraction rips through me. I double over in the arms of the man who’d become my husband just one second ago. Apparently Daniel has decided that his father will not be allowed to kiss the bride right now.