The Florentine Bridge

by Vanessa Carnevale

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘No, Mia.’ His voice is barely audible.

  ‘When did you wake up?’

  ‘Early this morning.’

  ‘You mean this afternoon,’ I say, worried at his confusion. The doctors warned there was a risk of injury to his brain. ‘I should have been here. I’ve been coming every day. I was going to come this afternoon—’

  ‘No. I told the doctors to hold off calling you. I’m sorry.’ I’m almost sure I see a flash of guilt cross his face.

  ‘What? Why would you do that?’ I ask, searching his face for answers.

  He doesn’t answer me.

  ‘I’m sorry if you’re still angry at me. I know I was wrong. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m so sorry about what happened in Positano. I shouldn’t have left you like that. It was so wrong of me.’

  He slowly lifts his hand and puts his finger on my mouth to silence me.

  ‘I’m not angry with you, Mia. There’s nothing to forgive,’ he whispers.

  ‘I don’t understand. You’re scaring me. Is it the drugs? If you’re in pain they can increase your dosage. You don’t need to feel the pain.’

  His face twists into a distressed expression and I feel helpless at not being able to soothe it. ‘That’s the problem, Mia.’

  ‘What is, amore?’

  ‘I can’t feel my legs.’

  ‘What did you say?’ I whisper, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach. This cannot be true.

  ‘Nothing. I can’t feel anything. The doctors say it’s spinal damage. They’ll know more once the inflammation goes down.’

  It takes several seconds for me to absorb the full impact of the news.

  ‘Oh, God, this is all my fault. They said you were upset before coming to see me.’

  ‘No. A car veered onto my side of the road. It wasn’t your fault,’ he whispers.

  ‘I can’t believe this has happened. It’s probably just swelling. You just need time to recover. You need to give these things time. Wait for the inflammation to go down.’

  ‘No, Mia. They said there’s a high chance I will never, ever walk again.’ The second wave hits me, harder than the first. Statistics. Beating odds. Having to be strong. I’m so tired of this. I take a deep breath, letting my lungs expand as I hold it for several seconds before exhaling.

  ‘That you will walk again, you mean?’

  He responds with silence.

  I swallow the dread and the familiar feelings this messy situation is reviving in me. I lift his hand and squeeze it. He pulls away.

  ‘Don’t do this, Luca. I know you’re upset, but don’t push me away. Please.’

  ‘You were right. It’s best if we take a break,’ he says coldly.

  I close my eyes, not wanting to listen, not wanting to hear what he’s telling me. The tables have turned. Karma is here, biting me, and it stings big time.

  ‘I wasn’t right. I was all kinds of wrong. I know that now, Luca. Look at me. Please!’

  He ignores me and continues, ‘The doctors say they’ll discharge me from this hospital next week …’

  ‘So soon?’ I ask, unsure of how that would be possible.

  ‘But I’ll be transferring to the hospital in Orvieto,’ he says.

  ‘No way. You can’t do that. Stay here. I’ll be here—I’ll take care of you,’ I plead.

  I place my trembling hand on his cheek and try to turn his head towards mine.

  ‘No, Mia.’

  ‘No. You can’t do this to us,’ I whisper.

  He closes his eyes and flops his head back on the pillow. I know he’s exhausted and needs to rest. I reach over and kiss his lips, lingering there for a heartbeat to see if he’ll reciprocate.

  Nothing.

  I stand up, ripping a tissue from the box sitting on his bedside table and head towards the door.

  ‘I’d prefer if you didn’t see me at the hospital again,’ he mumbles as I reach the doorway, his eyes still closed. I know it’s because he can’t bring himself to look at me. The icy-cold words send a shiver through my body. I’m frozen, ready to shatter if I take a step forward. I stagger through the door and into the bathroom. No amount of cold water on my face can help me. I scan the foyer, looking for Stella so she can take me home. She’s chatting with Rosetta. They’re discussing the news and their views on his future and whether he’ll be able to walk again with some intensive rehab. Stella is telling Rosetta he should stay here, in Florence. Rosetta says she agrees. We all know though that it’s her brother’s decision.

  Paolo is having a heated conversation with the doctor, having stopped him in the corridor.

  ‘What do you mean you don’t think he’ll be able to walk? Are you sure? What tests have you done?’

  The doctor clears his throat. Conversations like this can’t be easy, not even for him. Doctor Pirelli looks as though he’s had a lot of experience breaking bad news to families. The muscles in my feet tense up, then my legs, hands, shoulders and jaw. Oh my aching jaw. I join the two men, and Paolo reaches for my hand. He gives it a squeeze without shifting his attention from the doctor.

  ‘We’ll know more when the swelling goes down, but this is the information we have from the latest scans. I know it’s a shock, but I’ve seen enough patients like this, with this kind of injury, to tell you that I am almost positive he won’t walk again. I’m sorry.’

  I tear my hand away from Paolo’s.

  ‘Excuse me, Doctor. Do you believe in miracles?’

  He looks at me strangely.

  ‘Do you?’ I repeat.

  He clears his throat. ‘Yes, yes I do. I’ve seen a few in my time as a doctor. The mere fact that Luca has pulled through when the odds weren’t in his favour is an example of us not getting it right every time.’

  ‘Well, then, I’d appreciate it if you would keep your opinions to yourself.’

  ‘Signorina, with all due respect, we need to be realistic about the situation for Luca’s sake.’

  His voice trails off, and I’m immune to the rest of his words. Everything that was once in my grasp is spiralling out of control quicker than I can fathom.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt.

  ‘It can be very overwhelming for patients like this and just as overwhelming for the family. I understand,’ he says. ‘I hope for Luca’s sake that you get the miracle you desire.’ Then he leaves us.

  ‘God, Paolo. This is going to destroy him,’ I say.

  Paolo’s gaze meets mine, hand stroking his forehead. ‘I know, Mia. I know.’

  ‘We’ve been so focused on him coming out of the coma that I wasn’t prepared for anything like this. I thought we’d lose him or he’d just wake up and things would be … normal.’

  This is so far away from normal.

  ‘I think we need to give it time. We need to be here for him and support him as much as we can.’

  ‘He doesn’t want me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s his pride. He doesn’t want me around if he can’t walk.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him.’

  ‘He wants to go back home. With Rosetta,’ I say.

  ‘We won’t let him. We’ll do whatever we can to convince him to stay,’ he says, placing his heavy hand on my shoulder.

  The trip home with Stella is filled with an awkward silence, mainly because Stella usually doesn’t shut up. As we take the last bend, that fateful bend that almost took Luca’s life, she glances at me, her hands gripping the wheel. ‘You know,’ she says, ‘you were the first person he asked for when he woke up.’

  ‘I was?’

  ‘Yep. And it was only when the doctors ran some tests and realised he’d lost the ability to move his legs that he begged them not to call you. Rosetta told me when I got there.’

  I wind down the window and let the cool breeze sting my face.

  When we get home, the odour of antiseptic is still on my clothes. I peel them off my body and slip into my comfiest pyjamas. I don’t bother join
ing Stella for dinner. I flop on my bed, not even bothering to slide under the warm quilt.

  Stella knocks on my door and delivers me a bowl of penne drizzled with olive oil and a sprinkle of parmesan. I tell her I’m not hungry.

  ‘I know it’s hard, Mia, but he’s alive. Surely you can find a way to focus on that?’ she says.

  ‘Everything aches, Stella. I just want him back.’

  ‘Sweetheart, I know.’

  ‘I don’t want him to be hurting like this. He’s there in the hospital, dealing with this on his own. I can’t even begin to imagine how he’s feeling right now.’

  ‘It’s a shock for all of us,’ she says.

  ‘I shouldn’t have left him in Positano like that.’

  ‘Yes, and he shouldn’t be pushing you away either. But sometimes when you love someone, it’s only natural to not want them to hurt because of you. But love is about moving through ups and downs together. Letting someone love you can sometimes be one of the biggest gifts you can give that person.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll change his mind? About letting me see him at the hospital? I mean, he’s so stubborn.’

  ‘Yeah, he is. But he also adores you.’

  ‘That’s the problem.’ I sigh.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The following day, trying to distract myself from thinking about Luca in the hospital is impossible. Mum keeps me on the phone for over an hour in the morning, and while that helps, no amount of washing or ironing, reading or walking or meditating works. I paint for a couple of hours once late afternoon finally arrives, but then I pack up, deciding to visit Silvio at the bar.

  Silvio’s eyes light up when he sees me. ‘Good to see you, Mia.’

  I order an Averna. I don’t even like Averna. Silvio raises his eyebrows. ‘An Averna?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Just one,’ he says, pouring me a double shot. He grabs another glass and pours himself one, too.

  I cringe as the fiery liquid slides down my throat. I’m not used to drinking liqueur straight like this. Luca usually leaves the last sip of his caffè corretto for me.

  I miss him so much.

  ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘Well, he’s alive. That’s a miracle in itself. But …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘He doesn’t want to see me. He says it’s too hard for him to be with me. He thinks he’ll be a burden.’

  ‘Ah, typical testa dura,’ he says.

  ‘I pretty much called it off with him before the accident, Silvio,’ I say, as I concentrate on the tinkling sound the ice is making as I swish my glass around.

  ‘Why would you do that, bella Mia?’ he asks thoughtfully. ‘You two are so happy together.’

  ‘I got scared.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘The cancer coming back.’

  ‘The what?’ He finishes off his Averna and pours himself another glass. Fortunately, Matteo is taking care of the customers. ‘Wow, Mia, I never knew that.’

  ‘He never told you?’

  He stares into his Averna with disbelief. ‘Every conversation that guy had with me about you was always to tell me how wonderful you were. He never stopped talking about you—your painting, your jokes, your crazy adventures, the way you made him see life in a different light—but never, ever did he tell me about the cancer.’

  ‘I never expected to find what I did here, Silvio. I found him, and you, and Paolo, Stella, Signor Fiorelli, Clara, the boys … you all have changed my life.’

  ‘So what changed with you and Luca?’

  ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was fear.’

  ‘When Luca comes to terms with what’s happened, he’ll let you back into his life. There’s no way that man can live without you.’

  Our conversation switches to whether we really like the taste of Averna when Paolo joins us at the table. He had to open up the officina today, unable to take any more time off.

  ‘Long day?’ asks Silvio.

  ‘Don’t get me started. We’re so behind it’s not funny.’

  My anxious look says it all.

  ‘But don’t worry, I’ll manage,’ he says, rubbing his chin.

  ‘Averna?’ asks Silvio.

  Paolo nods and takes a slow sip, as if he’s contemplating something, and then he looks at me. ‘Stella called me earlier. She was going to tell you when she got home from work. Rosetta is already making the arrangements with the hospital to transfer Luca to Orvieto. As far as I know, if the doctor gives his okay, they’ll be transferring him on Sunday. I tried to talk to him—I told him we’d work something out in terms of where he could stay once he’s discharged—but he wouldn’t listen.’

  My lip starts to quiver, and I bite down on it so hard it almost starts to bleed. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything we can do right now. I’ve tried, Stella’s tried, Rosetta’s tried. He won’t listen. He’s angry, Mia, angry about what happened to him. He needs time to process it.’

  I slide my glass towards the bottle of caramel-coloured liquid, motioning for Silvio to fill it. To drink like this is out of character for me, but the numbing feeling it gives during this time of need outweighs my good judgement.

  ‘No more, signorina,’ says Silvio, screwing the lid back on the bottle.

  ‘Just let her have it, just one more,’ says Paolo as he places his hand on my shoulder.

  Half an hour later my legs feel like jelly. Silvio and Paolo walk me home, handing me over to Stella, who covers me with a blanket on the upstairs sofa as I drift into a blissful, alcohol-induced sleep.

  The next morning I’m at the hospital because I can’t stay away. My feet take the familiar route down the linoleum hallway, and when I reach Luca’s room I pause. I’m not sure whether or not to knock.

  ‘Mia?’

  I turn around to see Rosetta behind me.

  ‘Rosetta! How are you? How is he?’

  ‘He’s doing okay. They’re still deciding if he’s well enough to be transferred to Orvieto later this week. As for me, I’m doing as well as I can. Missing the boys and Francesco, but Luca’s alive, and that’s all that matters.’

  I bite the inside of my cheek. She’s right.

  ‘He loves you, Mia. He’ll never stop loving you. I can see it in his eyes.’

  ‘With time he’ll forget. Eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like, what we had.’

  ‘You’re different than all the others. He’s been asking about you every day. Go on, go in and see him. I’ll wait outside.’

  I pull the magazines I have brought for Luca close to my chest for some sense of comfort. I gently knock on the door and let myself in. He looks up and a smile begins to spread across his face. As quickly as it appears, it vanishes.

  ‘Hey, how are you doing?’ I ask gently.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here, Mia.’

  ‘I asked how you were.’

  ‘I can’t do this. Seeing you is too hard.’

  My face flushes and my words can’t keep up with the acceleration of my heartbeat. ‘Excuse me? Seeing me is too hard? I know you told me not to come here, but I spent over a month not knowing whether you’d live or die. The last time I saw your eyes open was right before I hurt you the way I did. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to hear your voice again, let alone feel the way I feel when you touch me or smile at me or look at me. How am I supposed to just stay away from you when you’re all I can ever think about?’

  Luca’s face is a mask of agony. ‘Mia—’

  ‘No, let me finish. I know why you’re doing what you’re doing. And I know it’s not going to be easy, for either of us.’

  ‘You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Even if I was to stay here in Florence, where would I live? I can’t live with Paolo. I can’t move in with you and Stella—it’s a double-storey villa. And the bills? I can’t work like this. There’s just too much uncertainty around everything right now. I’ll probably have to sell my share of the business.
You can barely cover your own living expenses on your wages.’

  ‘We’ll find a way.’

  ‘There’s no way this can work, Mia. Our life changed when I had the accident.’

  ‘I didn’t hear you say you don’t love me,’ I whisper, my voice breaking.

  ‘I’ll never stop feeling the way I do about you,’ he says, turning his head to look out the window.

  ‘Then let me find a way to make it work.’

  He keeps his focus on the window. ‘I don’t want it to work,’ he says softly.

  ‘How can you even say that?’

  He shifts his gaze, and the sadness in his eyes cuts right through me. ‘I don’t want to subject you to a life like this. I’ll never be able to carry you in my arms again. I won’t ever be able to swim in the ocean with you or do even half the things we’ve enjoyed doing together.’

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t care. I just want to be with you, no matter what.’

  ‘Come here,’ he says.

  I place the magazines at the foot of the bed and sit beside him. There’s still a tangle of tubes and wires connected to him. He raises his free hand and wipes away one of my tears, opening the gate for more to roll down.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you. Causing you pain is the last thing I want to do, but a little bit of pain now is going to avoid a lot of heartache for you down the track. You’ll thank me three, five, ten years from now.’

  My bottom lip trembles. ‘That’s not how this is supposed to work out.’

  ‘This,’ he says, pointing to his legs, ‘wasn’t how it was supposed to work out.’ He clenches his jaw and runs his hand through his hair. He eventually looks at me again. Then he places his hand behind my head and pulls me towards him. He kisses the top of my head and holds me close for a few seconds. ‘You should go,’ he whispers.

  ‘Luca, I can’t. I don’t want to leave you here.’

  ‘Please, Mia.’ He leans back into his pillow, shuts his eyes and slips his hand away. I know the conversation is over, but there’s no way I’m accepting that we are, too.

  Paolo and Stella are sitting at the kitchen table discussing Luca’s prognosis and transfer when I return home.

  ‘Mia, is that you?’ calls Stella.