by L. D. Davis
“With all I already have happening in my life right now, I need this”—he waved a hand between us—“to be free of unnecessary complications. I need to know you are okay. I need to know it, Lydia.”
I couldn’t lie again, because he wouldn’t believe it. So, I sort of answered his question. “I don’t know if I’m okay. I have been feeling emotions I hadn’t let myself feel before. It can be overwhelming at times.”
His gaze softened as he stroked a hand over my hair. “Then we should talk about it. You shouldn’t try to hold it all in like last time.”
I closed my eyes briefly as his hand continued soothing strokes through my hair. “I’m not trying to hold it all in, not exactly, but…” I opened my eyes and met his stare. “You’re leaving in a couple days. I can’t bare my soul to you this time, to take that leap, just to find out there is no one to catch me, and that there is no bottom to the abyss.”
“But I—”
“But you have a dying brother halfway around the world. It’s impossible for you to give me the time and attention I will need for that.”
“But you need—”
“My needs will have to wait, Marco.” I took his hand, kissed the palm, and then slid away from him and exited the room.
After work, Marco took us to dinner. The kids were happier than they had been in weeks, all three of them vying for his attention. I was happy he was there, and tried to enjoy his presence, but I knew what the kids didn’t—that he would be gone again in a few days. He decided to wait until the last possible moment to tell them he was leaving, because he didn’t want to ruin their time together. I went along with it, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. Once again, he would be halfway around the globe and I would be left alone to deal with the emotional fallout. As it turned out, the emotional avalanche began on Sunday morning, a whole twenty-four hours before his departure.
Cora and Marco made breakfast together. Strawberry pancakes, turkey bacon, and omelet muffins. After breakfast, we were going to spend a few hours at a holiday market and leave the rest of the afternoon and evening open to do whatever. The kids were excited about the day ahead, chatting non-stop through the meal. It wasn’t unusual for Marco to get phone calls on the weekends, so I didn’t bat an eye, but Gavi and Cora both paused in their talking for a second and watched him carefully. Marco’s brows drew together as he stared at the screen, and when he answered it, young, semi-familiar voices called out to him.
“Ciao, zio!”
“Ciao, mostri,” he said with a loving smile for his nieces and nephews.
He excused himself and went into the kitchen to talk. In a way, the scene was reminiscent of the first time I’d seen him do this back in Philadelphia soon after we’d met, but nothing about that time felt the same. There was instantaneous, complete silence that fell across the table when he left the room. Even Mandy seemed to recognize the change in the atmosphere as she continuously craned her neck to look in the kitchen. As the minutes marched on, Cora picked at her food, barely eating anything as she kept glancing back toward the kitchen, especially every time Marco or one of the kids on the phone laughed. Gavi stopped eating altogether and methodically ripped his napkin into pieces. Mandy’s appetite was unaffected, so I let her down from her chair after she finished and turned on Tangled.
“I’m not hungry anymore, Mommy,” Cora said. There was disappointment and sadness in her voice that made my throat swell with emotion. She was usually so resilient. Normally, not much bothered her.
“Okay. Why don’t you go get dressed?”
She quietly walked away, instead of her usual skipping or dancing out of a room.
“I’m not hungry, either.” Gavi’s little eyebrows were pulled close together, his arms crossed.
I knew he was hurt and angry, but I didn’t fault him for that and spoke kindly to him. “Okay. You can go get dressed, too.”
His voice was stony as he pushed his plate away and got up from the table. “I don’t want to go anymore. I’m going upstairs to play with my Legos.”
He didn’t wait for me to say anything before he walked off, small hands fisted at his sides. He took one last glance into the kitchen as he passed by it, before stomping up the stairs.
I sat there at the table alone, my breakfast cold, my coffee cold, and a chill seeping into my heart. Even though I understood the circumstances with Marco’s brother, I still felt like some of my worst concerns were coming true. I had worried that he would get bored and move on, hurting us. He hadn’t moved on, but it sure felt like it, because my kids and I were hurting. It was becoming hard to remain sympathetic to the sad situation, especially when it became apparent that the conversation with the children was over, and the new voice I heard from the kitchen was that of a woman.
Celia and her children had dominated Marco’s time for weeks, and now we couldn’t even have one full day with him without their interference. Just thinking the thoughts made me feel like the worst kind of person, but I couldn’t help it. Maybe I would have felt differently if he had been speaking to his brother and not his brother’s wife, the woman he had once loved…and maybe still loved.
By the time Marco returned to the dining room table, almost a half hour had passed by and Mandy was asleep on the couch. He seemed surprised to find only me there.
“Where are Gavin and Cora? Are they getting ready to go out?”
“They’re upstairs. Gav doesn’t want to go anymore, and I suspect Cora feels the same.”
Marco studied my face for a moment. “What is wrong?”
I hesitated a moment before I said what I really thought. “You shouldn’t have taken that call, or you shouldn’t have been on it so long.”
He seemed taken aback at my words and stared at me for a few seconds before speaking, slowly and carefully. “My brother is sick. He is dying.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Then if you know, why would you say that? Why are the children upset—at least, I am gathering they are upset.”
Again, I nodded. “They are upset.”
He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head before turning his gaze back on me. Marco, who usually did well to hide his thoughts and feelings when he chose, did nothing to hide them now. He was clearly perplexed and even a bit aggravated.
“I don’t understand, Lydia.”
I sighed. “Your brother is dying, but your sister-in-law and nieces and nephews are not. You gave up precious time with Gavi, Cora, and Mandy.”
Two tiny creases appeared on his forehead as his brows pinched together. “Their father and her husband can die at any time. They need the support and they need to be distracted at times.”
“And you’re the only one who can support and distract? You have four sisters, a mother and father. None of them can support and distract? Do they not have friends?” I shook my head hard to cut off that argument. “Listen, I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Well, that’s shocking,” he muttered.
That pissed me off. I was trying so hard to be understanding and fair, even though I felt the whole thing was unfair. I hadn’t given him a hard time and had even pulled back, giving him some space and keeping my own struggles to myself so I wouldn’t add any more to his already full plate, and he said that.
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. Maybe a couple months ago, or even a few weeks ago, I would have, but I really didn’t want to fight with him. For once, I wanted to be reasonable and calm, even though my emotions were beginning to run high. However, what Marco said next stripped away my calmness and ability to be reasonable.
Even though I hadn’t said anything after his comment, he continued as if I had. “They’re my family, Lydia. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, considering your rocky relationships with your mother and sister, but my family means everything to me.”
My words dripped with venom as I stood from the table. “Well, thank you for letting me know where this family—my family—truly stands. And fuck yo
u. This is why I didn’t want to get involved with you. This is why I didn’t want you to get close to my kids. I didn’t want them to get attached to you just for you to throw them aside when they became inconvenient for you.”
Marco jumped up, too, his eyes burning with anger. “I haven’t thrown anyone aside. I am here, trying to make the best of our time together, and I am meeting resistance all the damn way. I thought we would finally be able to move forward, but once again, you are being unnecessarily difficult.”
Before I could defend myself, Gavi burst onto the scene. “Stop yelling at her! It’s not her fault everything is messed up. It’s yours! You just want to leave anyway, so just go.”
Marco’s ire disappeared as his face and tone softened. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Yes, you do! I heard you. You think we’re all dumb because we don’t speak your language, but I can understand it a little bit. I heard you say casa and presto. Casa means home and presto means soon. That is where you want to live now, back in Italy with those other kids and their mom. They’re your family, not us. You said it. So go home to your stupid famiglia.” Tears streamed down his face.
Cora stood nearby, sniffling with tears running down her cheeks.
Marco’s voice was stern, but I saw the cracks in his face where raw emotion had begun to peek out. “Gavin, that isn’t right. That’s not—”
“It’s true.” My son had cut him off with more vehemence in his small voice than I’d ever heard him use. “You’re supposed to be spending time with us, but you keep taking time from us to be with them, even though you were with them for a super long time already. Yesterday, when we were supposed to be watching The Incredibles together, you answered your phone and you talked to her for almost the whole movie!”
I looked at Marco, my mouth slightly open. I didn’t know about that. Everyone seemed in such good spirits when they picked me up from work, I would have never guessed.
My son sobbed hard before he gave Marco his parting words. “We would’ve been fine without you. We don’t need you anyway! I hate you!”
He took Cora’s hand and led her away. Their crying and murmured voices grew quieter as they climbed the stairs, and then I heard nothing as one of the bedroom doors closed a moment later. Mandy stood on the couch also crying as she reached for me. She didn’t know what was happening, but she wasn’t stupid. My youngest daughter could feel the tension, could see the hurt that surrounded us. I went to her, picked her up, and held her close. I took a moment to calm her before I turned back to Marco. He looked shell shocked, his eyes roving everywhere, his mouth open as he most likely replayed what had just happened and tried to untie what must have seemed like a knot of confusion to him.
“Marco,” I said, my voice hoarse with unspent tears. “You need to go.”
His eyes focused on me, and his confusion seemed to grow. “What?”
“You have to go.”
He shook his head slowly, like he tried to clear it. “I have to go talk to the kids. I—”
“No,” I said firmly, even though my next words killed me to say. “You’re not going to go talk to my kids. You are going to get your things and leave.”
“What?” he whispered. “You’re…you’re kicking me out? You’re…what…breaking up with me?”
I inhaled and exhaled shakily, slowly. “Right now, you have more important things to worry about, other places you need to be, and here isn’t one of them, obviously. You’ve made it clear you need to be with your family, and it’s also very clear that isn’t us. We’re just ‘unnecessary complications.’”
I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from crying and buried my face in Mandy’s hair for a moment as I collected myself.
His voice was earnest, desperate as he held out his hands toward me as if that alone could stop this emotional snowball from rolling any further down the hill. “That’s not what I meant by that. I love you, and I love the kids. I promised you I wouldn’t go away.”
There was nothing I could do about the tears that filled my eyes, nothing I could do to stop them from falling. My last words to him came out broken and strained. “You already have.”
With that, I walked away, carrying Mandy in my arms, and climbed the steps to go be with my kids.
Chapter Thirteen
Making a clean break from Marco was never an option. Even though Gavi and Cora had been hurt and angry with him, they were still very young, and more willing to forgive. Cora only denied his calls for a day. It took Gavi a little longer, but soon, he too resumed speaking to Marco at least once a day. Gav was still angry, and often petulant, but I knew he was also sad and confused about the situation.
I wasn’t sure if allowing the communication was the right thing to do, but I was certain that if I forbade it, I’d hurt my kids. Chances were that Marco might end up hurting them again anyway, but I didn’t know how to handle the situation, so I let his relationships with the kids continue.
As for my relationship with him, breaking up wasn’t something I’d wanted to do, but it was necessary. There was no way he could focus on us while dealing with his brother’s illness, and there was no way he could be fair to me if he was giving so much attention to Celia. I didn’t think he was cheating or disloyal to me, but I thought he was in a precarious place when it came to his sister-in-law, and he was in too deeply to see how things could go astray there.
My own conversations with Marco were brief. We asked each other how we were doing, gave our answers in half-truths and outright lies, and that was that. The longest conversation we’d had was the day after he left when I told him he’d forgotten the credit card he’d given me.
“I didn’t forget. I still want you to have it and use it if you need to.”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’m not going to use it. Either I can mail it back to you, or I can cut it up.”
“Neither of those are options. Your only option is to put it away until you need it, and that’s it. Also, if you haven’t called the plumber for that leak yet, you are going to do that and use the card. I don’t want to discuss taking it back now. We can revisit the topic in a few months if you like.”
I pushed my hair back and closed my eyes for a beat before I quietly asked, “What if we aren’t talking in a few months?”
“Lydia,” he said my name so softly, so gently. “This…this break is just that, a break. A hiatus. I’m not going to just disappear, Tesoro, and I won’t allow you to disappear, either.”
I so badly wanted to tell him I loved him and ask him to come back, but I knew I’d been right to initiate this breakup, this “hiatus.” My heart was breaking, and I was still quite miserable in general, but the only person who was going to fix me was me, not Marco. I needed time to do that, too.
“I have to go,” I whispered.
“I love you, Lydia.”
I sat there for long seconds, listening to his breathing as he listened to me, waited for me to return the sentiment, but I didn’t. I hung up without another word.
Life went on. It had to. I had to persevere, to continue to take care of my family, except this time, I was also finally taking care of myself as well. I went to my scheduled physical therapy appointments. When the weather wasn’t too cold or too wet, the kids and I walked around the block a few times as recommended by PT. It was much-needed proper exercise for my leg, but also, doing so took me out of my element. I saw neighbors I’d forgotten about and spotted new ones. At first, it was hard to walk past the people I used to run by, but I mostly got over it.
A week after Thanksgiving, I pushed myself to do something that was absolutely necessary. I was terrified to do it, to the point of tears, but I could no longer rely on anyone else but myself. I couldn’t keep asking my mom to come take me somewhere, disrupting her life in the process. Besides, she was in Philadelphia with Lily. I was a grown ass woman with kids, and a license, and a working vehicle, and I had shit to do. Therapy, school events, food shopping, work, doctor’s a
ppointments, and everything else involved with caring for a family. I didn’t have a choice but to get into my minivan, buckle up, turn the thing on, and drive it.
I did it the first time without the kids, so they wouldn’t witness me turn into a bawling, shaking mad woman, which is exactly what happened. The last time I had been behind the wheel was in the accident that ultimately took Gavin’s life. It was a different van, different color, different make, but it was similar enough that I could swear he was in the seat next to me. It felt that real, as if I had gone back in time to that day. It was so hard, so damn hard, but I knew I had to. I had to. I had to.
So, I did.
The hardest thing I did a week after that was visit Gavin’s gravesite. I hadn’t been there before, not once. Not one damn time. He hadn’t been so bad to me that it made it okay for me to avoid his resting place. Shawna and Cliff had taken the kids a few times, but no one had ever talked about it to me, not even Cora, who liked to talk about everything. That had been my fault. This time we all went together, though—the kids, my in-laws, and my mom. I kind of hung back for a little while, gave everyone else the chance to say what they wanted and touch the headstone, and then the other adults seemed to know what to do and walked off with the kids to give me a few minutes alone.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I stood there for a few minutes and silently cried as I read the engraved words over and over.
Gavin Clifford Mills, Loving husband, father, and son.
Finally, I reached out and touched the cold stone, touched the words that were true. They were true despite everything.
“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”
When I walked away, I was still sad. My grief was still deep, but my shoulders felt a little lighter. The twisting was a little less. I could breathe a little easier.
Chapter Fourteen
Amara Esme Sterling was born on a rainy night in the first week of December. She’d been a little underweight for coming into the world a few weeks early, but she and Lily had done great—Kyle, too. He’d been so happy, eyes still gleaming with tears when he showed off his daughter in the video. We were all happy and relieved Lily and Amara had made it through the whole business of birthing safely, but I was sure Anna, the baby girl Lily and Gavin had lost, hadn’t been far from my sister’s thoughts.
