Racing the Sun

by Karina Halle

  The orderly looks at the other one, then shrugs. He brings a cigarette out of his pocket and gives it to me.

  “Grazie mille,” I tell him. “Sei un santo.”

  He grins at me, pleased at the compliment, and I grin right back, glad it wasn’t lost in translation. I’m learning. I watch as they go inside and then stick the cigarette in my purse. When I see Derio, he’s going to want this.

  * * *

  At around eleven p.m., Felisa insists I go to a hotel and get some sleep. I tell her I’m not going anywhere at this point and that she needs the rest. Lorenzo seems to agree—they aren’t spring chickens—and I promise to call her if anything changes.

  About an hour after they leave, the doctor comes into the waiting room, looking for them.

  I stand up and wave at him. He’s wiry and has bags under his eyes and a bad hairline and speaks in an overly monotonous voice, which I personally find strange for an Italian. His hand gestures are also minimal.

  “Do you speak English?” I ask him since he’s only talked to Felisa in Italian.

  He nods. “Yes, of course.”

  “Bene,” I say. “I’m Derio . . . Desiderio Larosa’s girlfriend, Amber MacLean.”

  He nods. “I was looking for the woman, Felisa.”

  “She went to a hotel. I told her I would stay behind. How is he?”

  He seems to think about that for a moment, and I gear up for some horrible news. Then he looks around and puts his hand on my shoulder. “He is in good condition now. Usually we just let in immediate family at this stage. But I think you are the closest thing to that. Would you like to come see him? He doesn’t look very pretty.”

  I nod eagerly and the doctor leads me down the hall.

  We stop outside the room and he opens the door.

  The blood inside me runs cold.

  Derio is lying in the hospital bed in a green hospital gown with an IV running into one arm, seemingly asleep. There’s a sling around his shoulder and his leg is elevated. The leg looks bad—really bad. It’s raised but hasn’t been placed into a cast yet. I can see many large pins sticking out of it, attached to an outer shell, like a cage. The skin itself is covered in layers of bandages.

  The doctor nods at me. “We have set the bone this way while he’s here but we have to treat the burn before the leg can be put into a cast. It’s second-degree instead of third, thanks to the clothes he was wearing during the accident. Not many racers wear the right equipment, for fear it slows them down, but he did. We won’t need to do a skin graft after all. But because it hasn’t destroyed all of his nerves, he will be in a lot of pain. But his leg and shoulder will heal and become mobile again, with time. He’s a lucky man.” He looks at Derio, who is slowly waking up. “I hope you don’t mind that she’s here. I figured you wouldn’t since you were calling for her earlier.”

  He was calling for me?

  The doctor pats me on the shoulder and then leaves the room, leaving the door slightly open.

  Suddenly, I feel scared. But when Derio sees me, his eyes light up like diamonds. The doctor was wrong. He still looks pretty. Actually, he looks gorgeous. He’ll always look like that in my eyes.

  “Amber,” he says, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

  “Don’t talk,” I tell him, coming over to his right side, which isn’t in the sling. I stop beside him, one hand on his arm, the other at my mouth because I’m not sure if I’m going to cry or laugh or if I have the strength to even breathe. Tears fill my eyes, my vision of him becoming blurry, before they spill down my cheeks. He’s so hurt. One side of his face is scratched raw along his cheekbone. Purple and red bruises flare out from his nose and eyes. His hair is greasy and seems to still have dirt in it. His lip is busted up. It’s almost too much for me to take in all at once, but I have to remind myself that it could have been worse.

  You thought he was dead, I tell myself. But he’s full of life.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he croaks, coughing.

  “Shhh,” I tell him, afraid to touch him anywhere except his arm, but his arm will do. I run my fingers down until I come to his hand. With effort, he wraps his fingers around mine. Despite everything, they are strong, warm, comforting.

  “I must tell you,” he says, “that when you stepped inside this room, I thought I might have died. I thought I was in heaven.”

  “You’re very much alive. How do you feel?”

  “I am okay. I don’t feel much pain, just . . . it is uncomfortable. My pride is bruised but I will not suffer for it. The other man is dead.”

  “I know,” I whisper, holding his hand tightly and feeling those tears prickling hot at the corners of my eyes. “I thought you were dead. I was confused about the accident. I came all the way here from Naples when I heard, expecting to see you in the morgue.”

  “Would you have come if you knew I was alive?” he asks, regarding me warily.

  “Of course I would have.” I bite my lip, taking a deep, deep breath. “Derio, I am so sorry for what I did to you. You have no idea how badly I wish I could take it all back. I was frustrated and lonely and lost and so damn tired, and I snapped. I just snapped. I couldn’t hold it in. I should have told you earlier, should have admitted that I was struggling and needed your help. But I didn’t want to bother you and I didn’t want to seem weak, like I couldn’t do it all. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to leave you, or the twins, I just didn’t know what else to do.” I feel lighter having said that, but I don’t know if it is enough. I stare at him, afraid.

  “Mia leonessa,” he whispers gently, bringing my hand up to his lips where he places a delicate kiss. “You don’t have to say anything. I said things I did not mean. I lost my temper. I am guilty, very guilty, for putting you aside. I took you for granted but it still pulled on me, every day, that my racing was taking me away from you. I just assumed that you were okay and I should have seen you were not. I should have asked about you more. I should have been there. I was so caught up with proving to myself that I had my life back, I forgot about the very thing that makes this life so sweet. You.” He squeezes my hand, his eyes tired but sad. “Amber, tu sei il grande amore della mia vita. Senza di te, la vita non ha più senso.”

  “That sounds beautiful,” I tell him. “But I have no idea what you said.”

  He gives me a soft smile. “You are the love of my life. Without you, life has no meaning.” He breathes in deeply, seeming to get choked up. “And it is true. You are my life, my love, my everything. I thank God for bringing you to me, into our lives, and for showing us the way. I was a fool to forget that, even for a second. Amber, I love you far more than I can even say.”

  It’s the honesty and sincerity in his words that undoes me. The tears spill down my cheeks. I am unable to contain them and I don’t care. I want him to see them, see how he affects me. My heart beats loudly, alive and happy and free.

  “Don’t cry,” he says, coughing, his eyes wet. “Or you will make me cry. I should have to tell the doctor I am in pain if he asks.”

  “These are good tears,” I tell him. “Felisa and Lorenzo, her man friend, are here, too. I sent them to their hotel for the night. She’s going to make sure you’re okay. I’m going to make sure the twins are okay.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he says adamantly. “The twins are with Signora DiFabbia. They are okay.”

  “I know, Felisa spoke to them. They know what happened but they’re being well taken care of. Even so, that’s not her job. It’s my job. I’m going to Capri tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” he repeats. “You aren’t going home?”

  I gently brush his hair off his face. “How could I go home when I never really wanted to in the first place? You are my home, Derio. And I will go back to Capri and take care of your brother and sister until you are well enough to return to me.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we’ll figure it out. But we will do it together.”

  He blinks at me, rubbing his
dry lips together. “I don’t want you to leave me.” He holds my hand tighter.

  “I don’t want to leave you either. But this, finally this, is the right thing to do.” I lean over and kiss him on his forehead, and through all the sterile smells of the hospital, I smell him. Lemons, musk, and his natural woodsy scent. It’s like Capri. It’s like home.

  “I want you to know,” he says, his eyes drooping a little, “that I did not do anything reckless. I was very careful while racing. It just . . . happened.”

  “I know,” I say. “They said the other racer took the corner too fast and crashed into you. Your extra gear is what saved you, and probably the fact that you weren’t racing erratically. I know you weren’t being reckless.”

  He blinks slowly. “But now I don’t know what is best for me, for my future, for our future. Do I give it up again and risk it all?”

  “I can’t answer that, Derio. This is your life. Things happen even when you plan well ahead, even when you take all the precautions. Life is dangerous, even without being on a motorbike. Follow your heart and I will support you, no matter what. Your dreams are no less important than anyone else’s.”

  He closes his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to let you rest,” I tell him. “And I’ll be back tomorrow before I leave.”

  “Don’t go,” he says as I pull away.

  I give him a look. “You know I’m not going anywhere.” I’m about to leave when I remember something.

  “Oh,” I say quickly, reaching into my purse and pulling out the cigarette I bummed. “I forgot, I got this for you.” I hand it to him. He takes it from me, examines it, and then snaps it in half between his fingers.

  “No, thank you,” he says with a quiet smile. “I think I am going to quit. I hear they are bad for your health.”

  “That doesn’t sound very Italian,” I tease him, though of course I’m relieved.

  “No,” he admits. “But it does sound like a man who wants to live as long as he can, with the woman he loves by his side.”

  We stare at each other for a moment, a current passing from my eyes to his and back again. It tells us everything else we can’t figure out how to say. Some feelings transcend any language.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I’ve decided that October is my favorite month in Capri. It’s still sunny and warm but the tourists are mostly gone and the island hums like a true community. The locals are friendlier and the visitors are, too. You can look out at the sea and see that deep, never-ending blue instead of hundreds of boats jetting to and fro. Sometimes it rains, but that’s okay; I love the rain here. You can see it sweep in off the sea in sheets as it fills the air with the smells of hot stone and grass and lemon. The island seems to take a deep breath as the parched plants inhale the fresh rain, turning from brown to green.

  I’ve been taking care of the twins on my own for three weeks now while Derio heals in the Naples hospital. There was a bit of a complication with his leg and then his shoulder, thanks to a previous dislocation (also due to racing, surprise, surprise), which was making him immobile for longer than they thought.

  While he goes through his struggles on the mainland, I go through my struggles here. They’re not the same, of course. They aren’t even close. But just because I’m doing the right thing, doesn’t mean it’s easy. In fact, the right thing rarely is.

  Annabella and Alfonso are forgiving and kind, though uncertain about me, about life, about everything. They worry for their brother and ask about him every day. They also seem to worry about me and think I’m going to leave them again. I keep promising them I won’t but I can see they don’t fully believe me. I don’t blame them. They came home from school one day and saw everything packed up and gone, just like the day Felisa had left. It took a few days after my return for Annabella to stop crying. She blamed herself so much that she started to sound a lot like me. I realized that we both needed to start letting go of the guilt and move on.

  Taking care of them is still a lot of work. My appreciation for moms grows more and more each day. But somehow I get it done. I try not to complain. I count my blessings. I feel important and useful and right, and that gets me through the tough days.

  It doesn’t help that my parents aren’t being any more understanding about this whole thing, but at least their opinions don’t bother me so much. Though my dad remains stubborn in his ways and isn’t afraid to show it, my mother has started reaching out to me on her own. She’s called me a few times, speaking in a quiet voice that suggests she’s doing this in private, and has asked me about Italy—what it’s like, how the people are, the best places to go. I think she wants to come visit; she sounds so wistful when she asks me what I’m doing. If she brings it up one day, I will encourage her to come over and spread her wings a bit. I know she’s afraid to do it because of my father, but I just hope she learns to overcome that fear, as I have.

  I’m trying to learn more Italian and stop being so shy and afraid when it comes to making friends here. I’ve been watching Alfonso and Annabella branch out and socialize, and I figure it’s about time I do the same. Though Signora Bagglia is a lot older, I’ve become friends with her and often drop by her restaurant for a bite to eat during lunch or just to say hello. The free food is nice, too. I’ve also made friends with Cara, a young single mom who moved to Capri a year ago. Her son, Emilio, is a year younger than Alfonso, but so far they get along great. Cara’s English is pretty good, too, and she’s been a major force in helping my Italian along. She also enjoys a few glasses of wine and a good gossip about the people on the island, which is fun to listen to, especially when she gets worked up and her hands start flying around like lethal weapons.

  Because of people like Cara and Signora Bagglia, I don’t feel so alone anymore. I have a bit of extra help with the twins if I need it and I’ve stopped being afraid to ask. I also know I won’t depend on Derio too much, emotionally, when he returns home, and that’s crucial for me if I’m going to live here. I love him more and more each day, even though he’s not here, but I can’t let him be my everything. It’s not fair to him when he already has so many to support.

  He’s supposed to come back tomorrow—Paolo is taking him on the ferry—so I’m racing around the house while the kids are at school, trying to get everything into tip-top shape. I’ve vacuumed, I’ve dusted, I’ve scrubbed, I’ve wiped, and I’ve cleaned. The whole villa sparkles, like a house of happy lemons. It at least smells fresh and citrusy; I’ve even picked a few from the lemon grove and placed them in bowls around the house.

  Tonight, I plan on trying my hand at soufflé. I want everything to be perfect for his arrival, including me, which is why I’m shaving my legs, rubbing body scrub all over, and deep conditioning my hair so the curls are soft and shiny instead of the texture of steel wool. We haven’t been with each other for a long time, and while I’m sure he’s not in the best shape for me to fuck his brains out, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to makes his eyes roll back and his toes curl. He doesn’t even have to lift a finger.

  I’m in the middle of flipping through a cookbook and looking for the perfect recipe, while wondering if I should paint my nails, when I hear the front door open. We don’t lock our doors here during the day, but still, no neighbors or friends that I know of would just barge in the house without knocking first.

  “Hello?” I call out, getting off the stool. My first instinct is to grab the nearest knife. I have a lot of choices in this kitchen.

  “Amber?” I hear a woman’s voice.

  Felisa!

  I round the corner and see her at the door, dragging a suitcase. Behind her comes Derio on crutches and behind him is Lorenzo, also with a suitcase and duffel bag.

  “Oh my God,” I say, completely shocked to see Derio, as well as them. “Let me help you.” I run over to Felisa to take the suitcase but she bats my hand away.

  “Tend to your amore,” she says, nudging me toward Derio. “Lorenzo and I can take care of ours
elves.”

  I’m smiling at Derio and he’s grinning at me—looking sexy as hell with a full-on beard—but I’m still looking between Felisa and Lorenzo in surprise as Lorenzo shuffles past me and joins Felisa in the living room. “You’re here early,” I say to Derio. “Can I touch you or does it hurt?”

  “Please touch me,” Derio practically wails, his eyes glinting. “I am going crazy without you and the only ones who have touched me lately are doctors and the man from the hotel down the street who had too much fun getting me into his luggage cart.” He nods in the direction of Via Tragara.

  I laugh before I grab his face in my hands and kiss him hard. The minute my lips meet his it’s like the entire world, full of its worries and expectations and lies and truths and victories and losses, fades away. He tastes and feels like my dreams and I can’t help sighing and lean into him as my body shudders with relief.

  Even on crutches, his body is strong and steady. I can hear his heart beating loudly in his chest and its rhythm brings me more peace. My love is home.

  “You came home early,” I whisper.

  “I couldn’t wait another minute,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I needed to see you. Plus, the nurses were so tired of me talking about you all the time, showing them your picture. They told me if I don’t go home to see mia leonessa, they would personally put me on the boat and send me there. So I decided it was best for everyone’s health if I left.”

  “Smart nurses,” I remark, wrapping my arm around his waist. “How did you happen to come with Felisa and Lorenzo? I thought Lorenzo was afraid of water.”

  He nods. “He was. Still is, I think. But he did it for Felisa, much like I did it for you.”

  “You did that for yourself. To get back your life.”

  “And you are my life, Amber. Please don’t ever forget that.”

  I pull away and look up at him. He’s gazing down at me with so much love and sincerity, it breaks my heart in the most beautiful way possible.