“Please, Maria – stop. Can we just . . . stop a moment?”
She’s almost giddy. Last night, after we’d all had dinner together down at Giovanni’s cottage, I finally relented and hugged her before she went off to her room, Maria telling me I’d see she was right. It had been such a beautiful day. The food and drink, the company and the sunshine were enough to make anyone feel good about them self – even me. Maria wanting a kiss I put down to the wine and the day that we’d had. When I woke this morning, I was still smiling. There was none of that ‘Oh my God what have I done?’ feeling that follows some huge mistake – just a warm feeling of happiness at the thought of the day we’d spent together. This feeling continued as I met up with Giovanni for work, and it occurred to me just how happy I’d become with my new life here at the Villa. But then at lunch I saw Maria in the Refectory and I knew immediately that she was in love with me. That’s not conceit; you always know when someone is in love with you, just as you always know when someone is not.
So here now, in the library, I have to tell her. I have to put her straight about me. It’s the young girl who has decided she loves me and I have to make the woman understand, only she sees it coming.
“Don’t even begin to suggest that you’re not good enough for me.” She stands up, suddenly fierce; the luvvyness all gone. “This is my choice and I know what I’m doing. Do you think I’d waste one moment of my life on you if I didn’t think we were right for each other?”
She walks out the library, none too quietly, and I’m grateful there’s no one else around. I admire her spirit, but still believe she’s mistaken. It isn’t that I’m not good enough for Maria; it’s that I’m not good enough for anyone. I can only get through this life in one way and that’s alone.
Brother Michael is the first person I ask about Maria; partly because I need to do this in English, but also because I won’t get anything but glowing approval from Giovanni and Ines. I tell Michael at dinner that I believe Maria has a crush on me.
“You don’t say.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“When did you finally get it?”
“She asked me to kiss her last night.”
“And did you?”
“No, but that doesn’t seem to have put her off.”
“Why would you want to put her off?”
“Do you not think it a little inappropriate?”
“You mean the age thing?”
“Yes I mean the age thing.”
“She’s not a child.”
“That’s exactly what Maria says.”
“And she’s right. If she’s okay with it, what’s the problem? You have to respect her choice.”
“I’m flattered, but –”
“Do yourself a favour and don’t tell her you’re flattered. That’d be the end of it right there. Unless that’s what you want, of course.”
“I don’t know what I want. I’m surprised more than anything.”
“You didn’t see this coming?”
“And you did?”
“I did, and so did just about everybody else at the Villa Palazzola. There are a few guests who might not yet know, but they only arrived today. We all think you’re perfect for each other.”
“Why?”
“Er, mainly because she’s crazy about you and she’s gorgeous. Did you really have no idea?”
“I never even considered it a possibility.”
“Because she’s so gorgeous?”
“Because of who I am.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not a suitable person for her.”
“Again – what does that mean? If she thinks you’re suitable then you are.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
“She wants to get to know you and that’s a start. But then this isn’t really about her, is it? It’s about you, and your lack of self-worth.”
“I know I’m poison when it comes to relationships, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That’s exactly what I’m getting at. Good things can happen to bad people, you know.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
“You know what the saddest thing about this is? Asking a man who’s studying for the priesthood for advice on relationships.”
“I thought you were trained in that and besides, there aren’t too many options around here.”
“Well, if you’re asking then here’s what I recommend: go for it.”
“Go for it – that’s it?”
“What more do you want? It’s a no-brainer. She’s a beautiful woman and she likes you. You’ve had a terrible few years and you deserve a break, so take it. You’ve been hurt in the past, so here’s to the future. How many more self-help clichés do you really need?”
I don’t see Maria in the Refectory at breakfast and I don’t see her at lunchtime either. I wait for longer than usual in the library before my siesta, long enough for it to feel as though now she’s deliberately avoiding me. I can’t begin to guess if this might be through embarrassment or anger – there’s no telling with Maria – but I do know I need to talk to her. The problem is I’m still not sure what it is I have to say. I don’t want to fall out with her, but I’ve no control over that Italian temperament. I’m at a loss how to play this – clueless, in fact. A girl like Maria doesn’t come along every day.
I’m about to leave the library when Ines comes in.
“Brendan,” she beckons in a loud stage whisper, unused to the surroundings of the library. “Come with me. Maria – yes?”
It had occurred to me to ask Ines if she knew where Maria might be, but I was waiting until this evening, when I’d be down at the cottage.
“She’s sick,” Ines says, or at least I think that’s what she says. I haven’t heard any ambulance sirens, and I’m sure Giovanni would have told me if Maria was back at the hospital. I follow Ines out the library. She doesn’t seem too distressed. She sets her mouth shut, shakes her head and shrugs, but that’s about it – an international expression I take to mean ‘here we go again’. She leads me to the opposite side of Villa, where I know the female members of staff have their sleeping quarters. It’s as far away from the monks’ cells as it is possible to be and I wonder if I’m allowed to be here.
“It’s okay – yes?” I ask Ines. My reverting to simple Italian because I’m alone with Ines irritates me, so I ask her the question properly. “It’s okay for me to be here?”
“Bah!” she says, which I guess means we don’t need to worry what anyone might think. “Maria was asking to see you.”
“Is she very sick?”
“No – yes – no, not like last time. But she’s weak – not strong?” she asks, making sure I understand her correctly.
The female quarters are like a purpose-built replica of the monks’ cell area – small rooms running along either side of a long corridor. It’s not quite so spartan, however, and has quite a homely feel. There are one or two members of staff about and they’re surprised to see me, but my being accompanied by Ines – who everybody knows – makes my presence here acceptable. Ines stops at one of the doorways and ushers me inside. Maria is lying in one of the two single beds and she smiles when she sees it’s me.
“Hello Handsome,” she says, and promptly starts coughing. Ines goes over to the bed but there’s little she can do but hover and wait for Maria to stop coughing. There’s a bowl for Maria to use on the bedside cabinet, but she brings up nothing she can spit out. I’ve never heard a cough like it before – a dry rattle that runs through Maria’s whole body, with something solid in her chest that you just know is never going to budge. The coughing is followed by a minute or so of heavy wheezing as Maria tries to regain her breath. Ines wipes Maria’s forehead with a damp cloth and passes her first a nebulizer and then a glass of water. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. From what I know of Maria’s illness she can easily pick up infections off other people just by being in the same room. Come to that, I don’t think Maria
should be here; she should be in an isolation ward at the hospital.
Ines straightens up, replaces the glass on the bedside table and asks me to rinse the cloth in the wash basin.
“I’ll let them know you’re here,” she says to me, “and I’ll be back to collect you at about four so you can get back to work. And you,” she says to Maria, “softly, softly,” just as Giovanni said to me when showing me how to use his wood lathe down at the workshop.
There’s a chair at the study desk, so I wheel it over beside the bed. The room is kitted out like a student residency and I wonder if it’s actually used in this way at other times of the year, away from the summer holiday season.
“Have you a room-mate?” I ask, and Maria shakes her head.
“No,” she says, “just me.”
This makes sense if Maria’s so prone to infection, and it’s another measure of how far they’re prepared to accommodate oddities such as Maria and myself at the Villa.
“Am I a danger to you, being here?”
Again, she shakes her head. I guess I’ll be doing most of the talking here, given Maria’s performance when I first came in.
“Shouldn’t you be in hospital?”
She’s lying on her side, facing me, and she lifts her head slightly to wipe some drool away from the side of her mouth.
“It’s not so bad,” she whispers, and eases her head back into her pillow. It might not be so bad, but it doesn’t look too good either. This thought must be written on my face, because Maria smiles. “Honest,” she says.
I wonder if I did this to her when she got agitated at me in the library, but then I remember her saying it’s never just the one thing. I can’t have helped, though.
“If I take it easy today and tomorrow,” she says, “I should be okay.”
She looks weak and sleepy, and so very different from her normal vivacious self. I suspect the Maria persona is something of a front, or is it her determination to live life to the full whenever she’s able? I see her now, drifting off to sleep, but then she snaps open her eyes in alarm to make sure I’m still here.
“It’s okay – go to sleep.”
“Will you stay?”
“Of course; until Ines comes back.”
“What about later – and tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here as much as I’m allowed to be,” I say. There must come a point in the evening when they won’t tolerate me being in this part of the Villa.
Maria slips a hand out from under the bedclothes and I take it into my own. In the end, it’s that simple. How could I not love her?
There are enough books and A4 folders of notes on Maria’s desk for it to be obvious she’s serious about her studies. I reach across, still holding on to Maria’s hand, and take a look, only the notes are in hand-written Italian so they’re hard to make out. I look around the room: the open wardrobe is mixture of kitchen-staff uniforms and Maria-type white dresses; lots of toiletries around the sink; medicines and novels on the bedside cabinet; and an i-Pod. One of the novels is written by me. This should be disquieting, only it’s not. I should be bored, just sat by the side of her bed, only I’m not. I think about Maria making up her mind about me without my even knowing it. I think about her white dresses, and how their simplicity contrasts with the medical mess going on inside her. Maria is still fast asleep and doesn’t stir when Ines returns soon after four. Ines suggests I go see Giovanni and tell him what’s happening – that I’m to return here so Ines can go to work in an hour’s time.
“Tell him I say this is what must happen.” I can’t imagine Giovanni objecting, and he certainly won’t go against Ines. “Maria has to eat and take her medication, so I shall bring her some food when I finish at the Refectory.”
I ask Ines to bring me something too – that I can eat here with Maria.
“Will she be okay?” I ask.
“Yes, if she eats and sleeps well tonight, she should be okay tomorrow. If not, it’s the hospital again.”
Something occurs to me.
“You sleep here, don’t you, when she’s sick?”
“I do. Now, go; tell my husband what he needs to know.”
Giovanni’s easy to find, and seems to know already what the arrangements for the evening are to be.
“How is she?”
I tell him Maria looks very sick to me, but that she and Ines seem to believe it’s not too bad.
“This is how it is,” Giovanni says, the philosopher. He tells me to forget about work, and to freshen up in my own room for a while before I go back in to Ines and Maria. The biggest deal for Giovanni seems to be that I’ve missed out on my siesta.
I go back to my cell, but there’s nothing I need to do except maybe splash my face with water. I can’t stop to think about what I’m getting into here – what I’m already deep into – but it does occur to me that the Padre could no longer accuse me of being dead.
Maria is still sleeping when I get back to her room, so Ines slips out and leaves us alone together again. As she shuts the door behind her, I jump up and open the door again. I call quietly after her down the corridor.
“Ines, are you sure this is okay – me being here?” Although most of the female employees that live in at the Villa are still at work, they’re likely to start drifting back to their rooms at some point this evening.
Ines shrugs and smiles.
“They all know, Brendan. Everybody knows.”
Maria is awake and smiling when I go back into her room.
“Will you be safe – amongst all these women?”
I sit back down on the chair beside Maria and hold her hand again.
“I was trying to figure out if Ines meant that the people in charge of the Villa know I’m here, or that everyone along this corridor knows why I’m here.”
“Both, I guess,” Maria says, but she pays the price with another coughing fit. I copy what Ines did earlier with the cloth, and I hold the glass of water for Maria to take a few sips. She looks all in.
“Lie back,” I say. I can see her mind is working overtime, and under different circumstances there are a thousand things she might be coming out with right now, but the effort is too exhausting. “It’s okay to sleep.” I tell Maria what Ines plans to do this evening, but she dozes off again as I speak. The sound of her breathing is disturbing, but it’s a relief that she’s calm enough to sleep.
Ines comes in later with two plates of food wrapped in silver foil on a tray. I wheel the chair away so Ines can get to Maria. She passes me the tray of food and I leave it to one side on the desk. Ines has no qualms about waking Maria, and I watch as she helps Maria sit up in bed, pours her some fresh water, and hands her some tablets. Maria doesn’t object as though she knows this is what she has to do. Ines shows me the packet of tablets and says something I don’t understand.
“Enzymes,” translates Maria. “To help digest the food.”
Ines gives Maria a stern look for talking, but I can see her heart isn’t in it. She looks well used to having to deal with this particular patient.
“Now, eat,” she says to the two of us.
I take off my own plate and pass the tray over to Ines, who positions it on Maria’s lap. She’s brought us a bowl of pasta with what looks like a sausage and bean type sauce – easy food to manage away from the table. Ines tells me to make sure Maria eats it all.
“After,” she says, “Maria takes two of these.” She holds up a second packet of tablets, and two fingers of her free hand. “And then – sleep. I’ll be back between eight and nine this evening. Is this okay?” I must look nervous or something. “If you need me, you come down to the cottage.”
“No, that’s fine,” I say, although the cottage seems quite a distance to make it there and back in any kind of a hurry. And I can’t imagine Ines exactly running anywhere in a panic. She leans in to kiss Maria on the forehead. Maria closes her eyes in appreciation; she doesn’t say thank you, but it looks like she doesn’t need to. Ines tries out her stern look on me,
tells me not to forget the tablets, and leaves the two of us alone.
“Antibiotics,” Maria says. “You’re learning all my secrets.”
“Eat,” I say. “Don’t speak.” Already I’ve learnt this much.
It’s quiet, though, with just the noise of the two of us eating, and it’s not much of a first date. I try to ask Maria questions she can answer with a nod or a shake of her head. Is this really not such a bad episode? Yes. Does Ines often have to stay the night? No. Is this Maria’s normal medication? Yes. Will she sleep through the night? Yes. Is she going to dye her hair blonde again? No. Will she let her parents know she’s been sick again? No. Does she get scared? Yes.
I take the tray away once Maria’s finished her plate of pasta.
“Are you ready for these now?” I ask, holding up the tablets.
“Please.”
I take out two tablets, hand them to Maria, and hold the glass of water for her as she drinks to swallow them. There’s a second glass over by the sink, so I pour myself some water from the bottle at the bedside.
“Will this be enough water for the whole night?”
“Ines will bring another bottle.”
She looks at me funny.
“I need to pee – before I go to sleep.”
Great – Ines didn’t think about this one. It means a stroll down the corridor to the bathroom. I don’t want to insult Maria by asking her if she can walk, but she tells me anyway.
“Don’t worry – I can get there myself.”
She pushes back her bedclothes and swings her legs to the floor. She’s wearing a long, cotton nightdress – white, of course.
“Chaste, huh?” she says.
I stand and hold out my hand to help her out of bed, and then lead her to the door.
“Okay,” she says. “Wait here. There’s only so much I want you to see.”
This is fine by me, but I can’t help worrying that she’s too weak to make it along the corridor on her own. I open the door and step out into the corridor with Maria. There’s a girl I recognise from Reception at the far end, and I call to her before she goes into her room. I ask her if she’ll just watch out for Maria as she goes to the bathroom. If she thinks it a strange request, it doesn’t show and I leave the two of them to it. I sit back down in Maria’s bedroom.
Dancing to the End of Love Page 24