by L. D. Davis
My mother put a hand on her hip as her mouth pulled down into an irritated frown. “Lydia, you’ve been wearing that since 1998.”
My jaw was clenched. “I still wear it. I wore it the other day.”
She threw her hands up. “It has holes in it! And the cuffs are so frayed that you have them attached by safety pins.”
“So what? I like it. It’s mine.” I bent over and picked up a pair of pants and another shirt. It was the same shirt I’d worn on my first date with Marco. “And what’s wrong with these?”
They were plain, I knew, but very sensible. There was nothing wrong with sensible clothes.
Marco was still trying to soothe me, hands out as if to calm a wild animal. “Nothing is wrong with them.”
“Accept they’re not good enough for you, right? Not pretty enough? Too low quality? Not sophisticated, right, Marco? That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? A sophisticated, stylish, educated, and able-bodied girlfriend who can keep up with you on the dance floor, right?”
There was a heavy silence in the room. I remained where I was beside the heap of clothes, clutching my few items in my arms as my eyes darted wildly around the room in search of other changes they’d made without my permission. Marco’s gaze on me was intense as he also remained where he was, arms crossed over his chest.
After a stretch, Mom put down the hangers she was holding. “I think I’ll go to Wes’s for the night.”
Her eyes were a mix of worry and exasperation as she glanced at me, but she didn’t say anything more before she left. After another beat, Marco walked to the door and closed it with exaggerated gentleness. He stayed there for a moment, one hand against the door, head bowed in contemplation—or maybe he was just readying himself for the fight he knew was coming.
I glared at his back. “I haven’t been good enough for you from the start. Is that the only reason you want me? You think I’m moldable? You can change me into whatever you want?”
Slowly, he turned from the door. His voice was quiet and composed. “I don’t know what you are talking about. You have always been more than good enough for me.”
“Except my clothes. My broken and too-skinny body. My education and my background. You told me you wanted me just the way I was.”
“I do want you just the way you are.”
“Then what about this?” I demanded as I shook the clothes in my hands. “And that?” I gestured wildly to the clothes on the bed. “What about going behind my back to make me an appointment because I humiliated you with the way I walk?”
Some of Marco’s composure slipped. His face grew red and his jaw tightened. “I never said that.”
“But that’s what you meant, isn’t it? You didn’t dance with me at that party. You didn’t dance with me until we were in the privacy of your apartment.”
“Because you would have said no. You’re always so damn concerned about what other people think when they see you.”
“Maybe I would’ve said no. It’s a high probability that I would have said no, but—”
He interrupted me, pointing at the floor with angry jabs. “You said you wouldn’t have danced with me after I danced with Celeste. You said that.”
“After!” I shouted. “Damn right I wouldn’t have after, but you didn’t know that then. You didn’t ask me at all, and if you were going to ask me, it should’ve been before you danced with her. But you didn’t even bother to ask, Marco. So what am I supposed to think?”
His hands were on his hips as he glared at me. “I wasn’t embarrassed. I just knew you would say no.”
“But I might’ve said yes. We’ll never know, though, because now it’s too late. Maybe you like to tell yourself you weren’t embarrassed, but deep down, you were. If my disability didn’t matter to you, you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to make that appointment—which, by the way, was way out of line. You had no right. And this?” I waved to all the clothes again. “I’m poor. I can’t afford new clothes, let alone designer labels, but you couldn’t have that could you? Not in your little high-class snooty circle.”
“What is this really about, Lydia? Right now, you are spitting out a lot of cazzate.”
“This is about you trying to change who I am to make me more palatable for you and your lifestyle!”
“I am not trying to change you!”
I dropped the items in my hand and dashed for the bed. Blindly, I began to pick up the pricey clothes and hurled them at Marco as I yelled every word. I knew without a doubt my ability to be reasonable and calm were gone on an extended vacation.
“This is changing me! And this! And this! And this stupid scarf! And these stupid! Shoes!” I hurled one after another at him. He dodged one and caught the other and let it fall to the floor with the other things I’d thrown at him.
“Don’t wear the damn clothes then. I don’t care what the hell you wear.”
I pointed at him. “You know that’s not true. You sure as hell cared when we were getting ready to go to that stupid socialite club of yours. You cared enough to fill your closet with new clothes for me and then come to my house and take it upon yourself to replace my wardrobe. I’m not like the other women you’ve been with. I’m not like Celeste; I’m not like Lily.”
“Stop saying that. I don’t expect you to be like either of them.”
“You’re right. No one can be as perfect as Celeste, or as resourceful and smart as my sister. I’ll never be able to measure up. I’m too thin. My hair is too short. I can barely follow a conversation amongst your group, and when I do, they look at me like they just realized they stepped in a pile of dog shit while wearing their favorite six-hundred-dollar shoes. Then, so I don’t look like a complete loser, you toss in the whole thing about me going to college.”
Now Marco just seemed flabbergasted and a little sad. “I never said any of that, Lydia. I don’t know where you are getting these wild ideas.”
“They’re not wild ideas, Marco. I don’t fit into your life, and frankly, you don’t fit into mine. I’m not going to do this again.”
He stared at me for several seconds before he shook his head with wide, bewildered eyes. “Do what again?”
“I’m not going to stay with someone who doesn’t really want me for who I am. Like you, Gavin told me repeatedly that he wanted me. Maybe he wanted to want me, but he didn’t. Maybe he wanted to love me, but he didn’t. Maybe you think you want me as I am, but you don’t, and besides, with your track record, how long was this really going to last before you got bored with me and my kids?”
Marco’s whole face fell. Just collapsed as if someone had just ripped his heart out and spat on it. I guess that was me.
He moved forward a couple steps, but I retreated so hastily that I tripped over some of the shit on the floor and sat down hard on my bed.
Marco had the expression of someone helpless as he stood amongst the mess a few feet away from me, mouth sagging, eyes sad. His voice was barely audible, as if it hurt to speak anymore.
“What is this all about, Tesoro? Are you just upset about the appointment with Adam? I am only trying to help you. I hate to see you in pain. I want you to be able to live a full life.”
My own voice was weak from shouting and from the emotion that was slowly but definitively tearing me apart inside. “So, you’re saying that someone who doesn’t have full use of their body parts like you isn’t living a full life?”
“No.” The word was harsh. “That is not what I am saying. Don’t put words in my damn mouth. I am saying that you aren’t living a full life. You won’t let yourself live a full life. You use your injury as an excuse, or a shield to keep people out.”
My eyes widened, and my voice rose again. “An excuse? You can plainly see that I’m in pain and can’t walk like a regular person.”
He gave me a disparaging glare that made my blood boil. “I see your pain, but I also see how much you embrace it. You won’t take anything to help it, and you will do all sorts of things to make it wors
e when you don’t have to, and you won’t go see a doctor. If I didn’t know any better, I would believe you want to feel the pain. I am beginning to believe you use it to punish yourself.”
My breath caught, and although I waited several heavy seconds to answer, my voice still shook on the words. “Fuck. You.”
“No, fuck you. You know I am right. You play these mind games, Lydia. ‘Oh, my leg is messed up, but don’t look at it! Why aren’t you looking at my messed-up leg? I don’t want your pity, but why don’t you feel bad that I have a fucked-up leg?’ I told you I wanted you as you are, but you’ve done nothing but point out all your faults, every possible thing you think is wrong with you, and make it seem like those are my thoughts, my words. Is it that you want me to treat you like shit? Is that what you want? For me to treat you like shit like Gavin did? You took that from him for years. Maybe I have misjudged you entirely. Perhaps you are a masochist. If it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t feel good; is that right, Lydia?”
I heard the truth in his words and couldn’t stand to hear it. I screamed as I stood up and began to hurl things at him again. When I ran out of clothes to throw, I began to throw items from my bedside table. Pens. Pencils. A notebook. A clock. A half empty glass of water—yes, half empty and not half full.
Marco shouted as he grabbed my wrists in his strong hands. “Stop it!”
I knew it was useless, but I struggled to pull away. Part of his shirt was wet from the water, and some of it had splashed on one side of his face and hair. In a swift move, Marco spun me around, locked my arms against my front and hauled my back against his chest. I felt his heavy breathing, felt it on my neck just before he began to talk close to my ear.
“I see you, Tesoro. I see right through your bullshit. If you think you can get rid of me that easily, think again. No matter what you say, you know as well as I do, we fit together.”
He kept one strong arm banded around me as his other hand slipped slowly down my side. Despite my high emotions, I stilled at his touch. My breaths came out in short gasps as my heart rate went into overdrive.
“We fit so well, Tesoro. You are salty, and I am sweet. You are the fire to my ice. I am the calm before and after your storm. You are beauty, and sometimes the beast,” he said with a soft chuckle. When I tried to elbow him in the gut, he blocked it and put both arms around me again. “I am not going away, Lydia. I am not going to feed into your bullshit, and I am not going to leave.”
“Why not?” I struggled against his hold but froze once more when I felt his mouth on my neck.
“Because I love you, and I believe even in your dysfunctional, belligerent heart, you love me back.”
My eyes closed at the sudden pressure of impending tears. “You just called me a masochist, dysfunctional, and belligerent. How could you possibly love me?”
“I said perhaps you’re a masochist. You are dysfunctional and belligerent. You are also the strongest, bravest, and most generous-hearted woman I know. You sacrifice your own happiness and comfort every day for your children, your mother, and even the sister who had cast you away. All you do all day every day is give and give while asking for and receiving nothing in return.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks. “I’m mean, and cold, and have done horrible things.”
“You are mean. Like one of those little yappy dogs.”
Despite everything, I let out a tearful laugh. “Asshole.”
“But I know you are hurt, Tesoro. I know you feel like you deserve to be hurt, but you don’t. We can’t put this off any longer. Tonight, we talk. Tonight, we must begin to put the past behind us and leave it there.”
I hesitated to answer. Fear swept through me, because I knew that if I talked about Gavin and our life together, it would hurt. It would hurt bad. I’d never talked to anyone about our marriage, and even in my own head, I had managed to duck and dodge most of the specifics, because even the thoughts had the potential to be catastrophic. My emotions—my pain, my anger, my resentment, and grief, all those demons—had been locked away since the days following the accident. It had been a matter of survival for me. I would’ve been unable to function and take care of my family had I let those emotions out, even just a little bit. If I released those demons now, I feared I might crack wide open, and that would debilitate me. I would be the most vulnerable I’d ever been in my life, and that was terrifying. The dark, lethal, and self-destructive thoughts might return and dig their sharp claws into me.
So much to fear. So much to risk. And for what? For who? Another man who claimed he loved me? Another man with the potential to shatter me?
I turned in Marco’s arms and stared up at him. Was he worth the risk?
Was he?
Moreover, Marco said I was the strongest person he knew, but how strong was I really? Did I have enough strength to relive my past? Did I have enough strength to relive my last moments with Gavin?
I didn’t know. I didn’t have an answer to any of it.
He whispered my name against my ear. My mouth opened but nothing came out. I tried again, but this time, the loud ringing of his phone stopped me from speaking. Not that I knew what I was going to say anyway.
Holding on to me with one arm, as if he were afraid I would bolt—like I would get very far—he reached into his pocket, peered at the screen, but seemed hesitant to answer it or silence it.
“It’s my brother. It’s almost eleven there. He does not call this late.”
“You should answer it.” I wanted him to answer it more for my benefit than for his, because I needed a minute. I felt like I was fracturing and I just needed a few moments to piece myself back together.
He took my advice and answered the call. While he talked in Italian on the phone to his brother, I used that opportunity to go to the bathroom and to try to get my emotions under control. I had really snapped on Marco, and he had done much less than Gavin had ever done. I wasn’t excusing his actions, though. There was something unsettling about the control he’d assumed over my life. I was still upset that he had taken away my right to choose. The doctor’s appointment made without my consent was bad enough, and then I’d come home to him literally throwing away my personal possessions without consulting me first. I wasn’t a child, and last I checked, I was still mentally capable of making decisions for myself.
I knew Marco’s intentions were from the heart, and that he hadn’t set out to control me. However, a part of me still believed he wanted me to be more than I was, that he wanted to sculpt me into someone more graceful and polished, to force this square peg into a round hole. Maybe he didn’t see it that way, maybe in his mind, he was just trying to improve my way of life and didn’t see how his actions could be perceived as insulting or hurtful.
I guess I did overreact, and probably only half of my reaction was due to what he’d done just today. It had been building for a while, almost from the beginning. He didn’t understand why I’d responded so violently, or why I had been so resistant, but that was why I knew that if I wanted to be with Marco, we had to have that talk. I would have to tell him about my time with Gavin, and why it was hard for me to trust that he really wanted me as I was and not a doll to manipulate and mold into someone more pleasing.
As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I admitted to myself that I did want Marco. As much as I had yelled at him and tried to push him away, I knew it would’ve hurt me deeply if he had gone. It hadn’t been that long since we first met, but he had somehow lodged himself in my heart. If I wanted to give myself any chance at happiness, even the slightest sliver, I had to talk to him. Now.
With a sigh, I turned the sink on and washed my face with cold water to clear away the remnants of my tears. When I returned to the mess of a bedroom a couple minutes later, I found Marco standing at the window. Even from where I stood, I saw that his body was tense.
“Is everything okay?” I asked hesitantly. My voice was hoarse from crying and yelling.
“My brother just told me he was diagnosed with pa
ncreatic cancer.” He turned to face me, and I saw the devastation in his eyes. “I have to leave.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Marco
I took the earliest flight from Columbus to Milan. The doctors had yet to determine which stage cancer my brother had, but I felt that I needed to be there for at least a couple days to support him and his family. Massimo had sounded so tired and defeated on the phone, and I could not stand to hear that side of my usually energetic brother. At first, he’d told me not to come, but I’d made it clear there was nothing that would keep me away.
“Since you are so stubborn and will come anyway, I guess it would be a good time to discuss my will and the plans I have in place for Celia and the children.”
It had infuriated and frightened me to hear him speak of such things.
“We don’t have to discuss any of that yet, Massimo. You still have to find out how bad it is and what the treatments will be. You won’t have to worry about those things for a long time.”
He’d chuckled sadly. “You are optimistic, Marco, but not stupid. We will talk when you come.”
I knew he’d been right, that we should have that discussion. Our cousin, Giovanni’s father, had died suddenly when we were very young, and without a proper will in place. It had taken many years for my cousins and their mother to get all they were owed.
Celia must be devastated, as any wife would be if she’d received such news about her husband of nearly twenty years. She and I didn’t speak much, but I would make sure to sit down and have a real conversation with her, to see how she was really doing. It had been a very long time, but sometimes I still missed our friendship. I’d told Lydia I had been in love with Celia when we were young, and maybe I had been, but now I just simply loved her as a friend—or a sister. I had affection for her, but she hadn’t had my heart in a long time. The person who did have my heart, whether she knew it or not, was back in Columbus.
