by D. M. George
“I’m still in Rome. I can be at your hotel by seven p.m. Let’s talk over dinner.”
Perla’s heart burst with equal parts joy and dread. Her hand shook as she passed the phone back to Jacopo. This was the chance to redeem herself Janus had prophesized, her opportunity to come clean with Vito, reveal her true appearance, and return the cameo to Parthenope. She sat down on the lobby sofa and put her face in her hands. Janus had delivered the divine intervention she’d requested, but gods never made it easy for mortals. To have Vito back came at the heart-wrenching cost of losing him all over again.
Seven p.m. on the dot, Vito stepped into the hotel lobby. She didn’t recognize him at first. There was a pallor under his tan, and he walked toe-to-heel, as if each step hurt. She stood up from the love seat and rushed to embrace him.
“Don’t squeeze too hard or you’ll pop my sternum.” Vito held her at arm’s length but leaned in for a long, wet kiss.
The handsome young man standing behind Vito cleared his throat.
“Oh, excuse me… Perla, I’d like you to meet my youngest son, Nick.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Palazzo,” Nick said and kissed her on both cheeks. This twentysomething iteration of Vito had the same face-splitting smile as his father and dressed in the same casually elegant manner, down to the loafers with no socks.
“Call me tomorrow, Papa, when you want me to pick you up.”
“We’ll walk with you to the car,” Vito said, taking Perla’s arm. “There’s someone else I want you to meet.”
Vito’s Alfa idled in front of the hotel. A small German shepherd mix with a cone around its head sat in the passenger’s seat. When Vito opened the door, the dog ran straight to Perla and licked her hands. She laughed at the gauze bandage around his tail.
“This can’t be my little buddy from Saturnia!” She scratched the dog’s ears, and he gazed adoringly into her eyes. “You’re such a good boy, yes you are. Who’s my baby doggie?”
“This is Benito. He’s part of the family now.” Vito told her about the driver he’d hired to take him and Nick to Saturnia to retrieve his car since he was forbidden to drive for a month after his operation. He described how Benito was sleeping beside his car when they arrived. “It seemed like he was waiting for us, for you most likely. He jumped right in as soon as I opened the door. I asked around town, but nobody recognized him, so we brought him back to our apartment in Rome.”
“What’s the condition of his tail?”
“The vet said he’ll have a slight kink in it, but otherwise he’s fine.”
Vito opened the trunk and pulled out Perla’s purse and suitcase. “We stopped by the hotel in Saturnia to get our things.”
“Terrific! Just in time.” She waved goodbye to Nick and Benito as they set off for Praiano. “Do you mind waiting for me while I do a quick change before dinner?” Perla asked, grabbing her suitcase and purse. Before Vito could answer, she’d bolted to her room.
Minutes later, Perla glided down the stairs in the same cream-colored dress and taupe shawl she’d worn to Vito’s dinner party. Arm in arm, they left for Piazza Tasso.
“Are you sure you’re okay walking?” Perla said along the way. “We can take a cab.”
“Yes, I’m supposed to walk every day, but nothing too strenuous. Besides, I need to get my blood circulating after being in the car so long.”
Vito stopped and held Perla’s cheeks in his warm hands. “Please forgive me for not being totally honest with you about my heart condition. My doctor had advised me not to delay the surgery I needed. My first heart operation hadn’t fixed the problem completely, and I had scheduled a second surgery for early July. But then I met you and pushed it back to August. I should have told you in Rome, but I wanted the weekend to be all about us. Unfortunately, my heart couldn’t wait.”
“What a ding-dong. Why weren’t you in the hospital in Pitigliano? I asked if you were admitted.”
“I was there briefly, but only long enough to switch ambulances. After the paramedics stabilized me, I called my doctor. He arranged private medical transport to meet me in Pitigliano.”
“So, what’s your prognosis?”
“I’ll live if you stay with me in Italy and die if you return to California.”
“Vito, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do,” Vito said. “Let’s wait until we’re in the restaurant where we can sit down.”
And you’ll need to be sitting down when I blindside you with my decision to leave. How would she do it? They had never argued or exchanged a single hurtful word. There was absolutely no good reason for her not to stay in Italy with him. And she was a terrible liar too. He wouldn’t believe her if she told him she didn’t love him, not after their night in Rome. Or any of their nights together, for that matter. She had no idea what her excuse would be, but she couldn’t procrastinate any longer. It was time to pay for her duplicity.
Vito took her hands and squeezed them. “God, Perla, I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you.”
And, sadly, you’ll lose me again before the night is over.
Like so many old buildings in Italy, the restaurant had a narrow, unimpressive storefront that opened into a cavernous dining room resembling the interior of a castle. Wonderful smells wafted from the dungeon-like kitchen deep in the back, but she was too nervous to think about food. A candle cast a warm glow on their faces, and they held hands across the white tablecloth. She etched Vito’s handsome face in her memory, a mental cameo of these last moments before the happy illusion turned to hurt and tears. Vito asked for water, and Perla ordered a glass of red wine.
“You’re not drinking?”
“Can’t with my meds. My doctor gave me a long list of dos and don’ts. The worst one is no sex for six weeks. Il Duce is on vacation for a while.”
“I’m leaving then,” Perla joked. “I have no use for you now.”
Vito seemed much more fragile than he wanted to let on, and scared too. He’d survived a heart attack, probably caused by the stress of the earthquake. Would her rejection finish him off?
“I wouldn’t be very good in bed anyway.”
The memory of their smoking-hot tango in Rome tingled between her legs.
“Rome will be a hard act to follow, but you’re the one who excites me, Vito. Everything about you turns me on.” She kissed him tenderly.
This dream-come-true moment with the man she loved most in the world was about to become a nightmare. What excruciating fate: to hold the happiness she’d lost in her hand, to feel the weight of joy in her palm one last time—only to throw it away again. She nibbled on some salami and cheese from the antipasto plate and pushed the prosciutto to one side.
“Don’t confess. Just one more night together,” whispered the devil on her shoulder. “Parthenope will still be alive in the morning, Janus promised.”
What monstrous misfortune or natural disaster would strike if she procrastinated again? Perla squeezed a lemon wedge on her fried calamari but didn’t eat any. No, Janus had said that the choice and the consequences were in her hands, not his. Whatever that meant.
She picked at her gnocchi in truffle sauce. Her stomach tangled itself in knots. Vito told her how sorry he was that she’d missed the writing contest deadline and asked what her plans were and if they included him.
“My offer still stands, Perla. Don’t go home. Stay with me instead. We can live in Rome during the winter and in Praiano in the summer. I love you so much. Whatever amount of time I have left on earth, I want to spend it with you. Please stay.” He pulled her into a deep, openmouthed kiss across the table.
Perla bobbed her head helplessly. Was it still a lie if she didn’t say the words? This was the moment of truth. Tell him you’re leaving! Get it over with! Make up something, quick! But a waiter passed by carrying a mighty fine-looking dessert tray. She’d do it after dessert.
They shared the goblet of zabaglione and skipped the espressos. Telling him in the restaurant would cause a scene—b
etter to wait until they were outside.
Perla dawdled until the waiter had asked three times if they wanted anything else, a not-so-subtle hint to get moving. The restaurant was almost empty when they left. On the way out, Vito lifted his arm to put around Perla’s shoulders but winced in pain. They held hands instead. Past the plaza, the sidewalk became so narrow they walked single file to avoid getting hit by cars.
Vito stopped and faced Perla. “Thanks for taking a chance on me, Perla. I’ve never been happier in my life. I love you so much. Was there something you wanted to tell me?”
Perla hesitated. “Just, uh… just I… I love you more.”
In the dark spaces between the streetlights, glowing green eyes burned into Perla’s back—lots of them. She turned around. Four cats followed her. Why were the supernatural powers of Sorrento picking on her? Half a block later there were eight cats, and by the time she reached the hotel, there were a dozen.
“How unusual…,” Vito said. “They must smell the calamari.”
Perla clapped her hands. “Shoo. Go away!”
The cats glared at her. Guilt needled her heart. She stood still and met Vito’s eyes. He waited with a questioning expression on his face. She blinked a few times and filled her lungs.
“Let’s go inside.” Her resolve winged away in the night.
The hotel’s tiny elevator was broken, so they climbed the stairs instead. She didn’t trust the rickety cage anyway; it resembled an iron maiden. On every third stair, Vito stopped to rest.
Perla’s mind reeled as she waited for Vito to catch his breath. The tiny devil yanked on her earlobe. “Take the easy way out: spend the night together and ditch him in the morning. You know you really want to.”
She absolutely had to hold Vito one more time…
On the landing halfway to the second floor, a black cat jumped out of nowhere and stood in front of Perla, blocking her way. Conscience in a cat. It hissed and arched its back. The cat’s rising growl signaled an impending attack. Perla stopped and faced Vito. The scene froze as if she had hit the Pause button.
The cumulative lies, deceit, and guilt nailed her feet to the floor. Maintaining false pretenses with Vito for so long exhausted her. She didn’t know who she was anymore. Reveal the truth, she told herself. Step up and take responsibility for the mess you’ve made—you’ll lose him either way. The look of betrayal on his face would be horrible, but wouldn’t it be far worse to live with the guilt of making Vito believe he was to blame? And if she showed him her true age, wouldn’t she salvage a shred of dignity and self-respect by putting the blame squarely on her own shoulders where it belonged? Oh, what the hell.
“I actually do have something to tell you.” Her stomach dropped, and blood roared in her ears. Please God, don’t let Vito have another heart attack.
She stared at her feet and removed the cameo. Holding her breath, she slowly raised her eyes to Vito’s face. What would it be first? Fear? Anger? Disgust? Saturnia all over again?
Vito had no reaction at all. He just stood there, regarding her casually, his face expressionless. Why doesn’t he say something? Curse her for being a witch, call her a despicable liar, run screaming from the hotel, or simply vomit? But he said nothing.
“What is it you want to say?” Vito asked after an eon of silence, or maybe it was just seconds.
“What do you mean, what?” Confusion clouded her voice.
“I’m listening.”
Perla blinked. “Don’t I look different to you?”
“No, why do you ask?” Vito smiled patiently, like a parent indulging an annoying child.
Perla took her phone out of her handbag and snapped a selfie. She checked to be sure it showed her older self and handed it to Vito.
“Have I always looked like this?”
“Yes, minus the scratches.”
“With all these lines and wrinkles?” Perla touched her cheek.
“Yes.”
“And you love me in spite of them?”
“I love you because of them. Enough crazy talk,” he chided. “You’re sounding uncharacteristically vain. Can we go to your room now? I want to curl up with you and never let you go.” He laid his head on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. “But rain check on the wild sex.”
Perla squeezed her eyes shut. What had just happened? How was it possible that only she had seen herself as young all this time?
Parthenope—that’s how. What a low-down, dirty trick! She’d always suspected the cameo came with a catch, knowing how Parthenope disparaged physical beauty, but never imagined she’d be duped to this magnitude. How naive she’d been. Parthenope was a siren, after all, and this was her song. She’d offered the thing Perla wanted most in the world but couldn’t have, and Perla had happily accepted it, knowing full well the gift could destroy her.
Perla rewound the events of the past seven weeks through the filter of this new information, and the tectonic plates of her self-esteem realigned. She propped herself against the balustrade, dizzy.
“Are you all right?” Vito asked.
An odd, new sensation filled her with a warm glow—she was proud of herself. Was renewed self-esteem Parthenope’s intended gift after all?
“Just a headache.” She took Vito’s hand, and they climbed the remaining stairs together.
The cat had disappeared.
Perla unlocked the door and pulled Vito into her room, shaking her head in quiet amazement. She led him to the edge of the bed and helped him take off his shirt.
Right on time, the little devil who had tormented her all her life reappeared and shouted, “You still don’t deserve—”
Perla swatted him to the floor and crushed his head with her heel, silencing him forever.
She and Vito cuddled late into the night, whispering about their future together before drifting off into deep, blissful sleep.
The Intervention
Morning light illuminated the stubble on Vito’s cheeks and the faint smile on his lips as he lay on his back. Perla snuggled beside him, petting his bushy chest, careful not to touch the line of staples holding the skin together. He stirred and rolled to his side, pulling the knot of sheets with him. The night had been so tender. They’d kissed and touched, and although they hadn’t made love, Perla felt they’d never been more intimate. She marveled at the new direction her life had taken in the past twelve hours. Happily ever after had been her reward for choosing honesty.
She reached over and picked up the cameo from the nightstand and held it to the light. She smiled at the beautiful woman framed in carnelian. “I’m coming for you today,” Perla whispered.
The woman smiled back.
“More coffee?” asked the hotel’s breakfast room waitress.
Perla and Vito sat at a small table, finishing their pastries, making plans for the day.
“I’ll call you when I get back from Teddy’s,” Perla said. She was going to visit Teddy and share the good news about her decision to stay in Italy, but only after seeing Parthenope. Although Janus had promised she’d find Parthenope today, she didn’t expect that talking her out of suicide would be easy.
A man strode into the dining room as they were about to leave. Judging by his dressy sports jacket and pressed slacks, he was neither a tourist nor a local. He paused when he caught Perla’s eye and approached their table.
“Excuse me,” he said, “are you the lady from Saturnia in the YouTube video?”
Perla pushed back her chair and pointed to the door. “If you came here to mock me, you can leave right now.”
Her tone of voice alarmed Vito, who stood up and faced the stranger. “What is this about?” He looked back and forth between them.
“There’s a stupid video of me going around the internet. Someone filmed it while we were getting everyone out of the hot springs,” Perla said. “I’m the laughingstock of the world because, you know, I was, uh, running around naked and scaring everyone.” It dawned on her that she had not been her young-looking self wh
en the video was taken. She ran her palm over her eyes, willing the image away.
The man held up his hands. “I’m not here to humiliate you. I imagine you’ve had enough.” He handed his phone to Vito to show him the Crazy Naked Lady from Saturnia video.
Vito watched it, laughed, and handed the phone back. “That’s my Perla,” he said. “Now get out of here.”
“Wait, wait,” the man said, backing away. “I’m here to congratulate you. Have you seen the sequel?”
“Don’t tell me there’s more…” Perla groaned as the man tapped his phone again and handed it to her. She put on her glasses.
“This one’s called Crazy Naked Lady of Saturnia Saves the Day. It was taken by someone else just after the first video ended.” The video captured Perla pulling the man away from the waterfall and leading him toward the bank as billows of steam rose overhead. It showed her falling into the last pool and Vito carrying her over his shoulder to safety. Crap, that was an unflattering shot of her backside. The people on the bank stared in horrified fascination as the boiling water flooded the pools where they had been sitting.
“My name is Angelo. I’m a reporter for la Repubblica newspaper in Rome, and I’ve been searching for you since this new video surfaced. When I saw some posts of you at the pizzeria in Sorrento, I drove down here and began asking around. I want to do a story on you.”
“Why?”
“People want to know who you are and how you predicted what was going to happen. After the tragedy of the earthquake, the public is ready for some good news. People like heroes. Please, let me write your story.”
Perla didn’t think long. “Yes, I’d like some vindication, but I have to go now. Meet me here in the lobby at six p.m. and I’ll tell you everything.” She slipped her hand into Vito’s, and they went outside to wait for Nick.
Adrenaline coursed through Perla’s veins as she approached Parthenope’s cove. There she was, basking on her rock, in sunglasses no less. Janus had delivered! Perla’s smile capsized as she got closer. Something wasn’t right. Relief dissolved into dismay when the smell of rotting fish hit her nostrils. The desiccated corpse, propped up against the high side of the boulder, barely resembled Parthenope. She was too late after all!