Our hearts collide somewhere in the middle of the room when our eyes meet. And there they hover uncertainly until he averts his gaze, and I’m unsure whether to move forward towards him.
I clear my throat. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m okay,’ he says flatly. I wait for him to continue speaking. He doesn’t. Rosetta pokes her head through the door and tells us she has some errands to run. Sensing our discomfort, she says, ‘Would you like to maybe take a walk outside?’
Luca flips his head up. ‘That would be great, Rosetta. There’s only one small problem,’ he says through clenched teeth. It’s so out of character for him to snap at someone—anyone. I cringe at his callous behaviour.
I decide not to spend one more second in the unbearable silence. ‘I think that’s a great idea. Let’s go outside,’ I say.
‘Fine,’ he says.
I hold the door open in the lift until he manages to wheel himself in. We ride in silence, only speaking once we reach the cobblestoned road outside. It’s cold on the street, and I suddenly wish I’d brought a jacket with me. I cross my arms as we walk up the inclined street that Luca’s arms are working hard to navigate.
‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ he says breathlessly.
‘I wanted to see you.’
‘I thought I made things clear.’
‘Please don’t treat me like I’m a stranger,’ I say, my voice uneven.
He doesn’t answer me and keeps propelling himself up the hill, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. We take a spot outside at the closest cafe in the piazza and sit across from each other.
‘Um, I should go order us something to drink. Corretto? Double shot?’
He nods, looking as though he’s in discomfort.
‘Does it hurt? Are you in pain?’ I ask.
‘My body’s fine.’
I order our coffees and return to the table. Luca grabs his cup but doesn’t take a sip.
‘I wanted to call you, to tell you how sorry I am. I told you in the hospital, but I thought you might have been angry with me for leaving—’
‘I’m not angry with you, Mia. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. This. All of it,’ he says.
‘This isn’t your fault. You can’t help what happened to you,’ I say.
He shakes his head.
‘Why can’t you look at me?’ He keeps staring at his cup, and this time I can’t help raising my voice. ‘Please, Luca, just look at me!’ The group of tourists sitting at the table beside us glance over and pretend not to have overheard me.
‘Because it hurts,’ he whispers.
I draw a deep breath. ‘I hate this so much. I hate being apart from you. I hate the way things have changed between us. I hate that this has happened to you—to us.’
‘Stop, Mia.’
‘No! I came here because I want you to come home. I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you.’
‘Please don’t do this.’
‘Why won’t you hear this? Why won’t you let me in?’
‘Why? I can’t walk, Mia! There are no guarantees I’ll ever walk again.’
‘I know you’re angry that this has happened. That you haven’t accepted it yet. But you almost died. You were this close to dying, Luca,’ I say.
‘This is not what you want. Trust me. I’m no good for you anymore.’
‘How dare you even think that!’
‘I can’t do this to you. You deserve more, so much more. You don’t deserve this.’
‘You’re a hypocrite of the worst kind,’ I say, the blood rushing to my cheeks. ‘You don’t deserve this, Luca. What do your days look like right now? Rehab followed by hours of staring blankly out an apartment window while life goes on around you, while the person who loves you more than anything in the world is a hundred miles away thinking of you every second of every day, aching just as much as you are? My heart knows what it wants.’
‘So does mine.’
‘You’re lying,’ I say, my voice cracking as my eyes fill up with tears.
His chocolate eyes flash with hurt.
‘I know you think you’re doing me a favour, but you’re not. I accept you for who you are and for whatever the future brings. And this is what the future brought and yes, it’s completely shitty and horribly unfair. I wish I could change it for you. But love—love is something that knows no boundaries. You don’t just fall out of love because someone can’t walk,’ I say.
‘One day when you’re married with kids of your own, you’ll be enjoying a life without these kinds of limitations or obligations, and you’ll thank me.’
‘No,’ I say vehemently. ‘Don’t even go there! I will never thank you for pushing me away like this. Never. No way. You told me I was your forever. I want you to be my forever. I don’t want this.’
‘Yes, Mia,’ he says softly.
‘Okay, so if you ever learn to walk again, what happens then? Is that when I’ll get a call from you? Or maybe the next girl that comes along who accepts you for who you are can have you, but I can’t?’
‘That’s not fair. You know I’d do anything for you, bella Mia. But not this. You have to know I’m not doing this because I don’t love you. I’m doing this because you’re the single most important thing that ever happened to me.’
The tone of his voice makes my heart feel heavy, knowing that all of this has been much harder on him than it has been on me. He places his hands on the wheels of his chair.
‘No, don’t go. Please don’t go.’
‘This conversation is finished. I’ll get Rosetta to take you home,’ he says.
‘We were happy, Luca.’
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.
‘Look at me,’ I whisper.
‘I can’t.’ His face tightens and he bites his lip.
‘Look at me, Luca.’ My hands reach out to frame his face and we hold each other with our eyes for what must be seconds. Seconds that feel like hours because I’ve missed this so much. I lean forward and press my lips against his so softly that it almost feels like we aren’t touching. Instantly it doesn’t hurt anymore. Luca pulls me deeper into the kiss, into that place where we completely lose ourselves, that place where we are whole again. This is us. It’s over way too soon.
He gently pulls away.
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘That feeling, Luca? It isn’t based on whether or not you walk.’ He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair. I reach for his chest and feel the rapid beating of his heart.
‘You do feel it,’ I murmur.
His hands glide over his unshaven face.
‘Look, I know you’re hurting, but what has happened to you doesn’t make you any less able to care for me. Not being able to walk doesn’t change the fact that you are perfect for me.’ I open my bag and grab the photo book containing the pictures I’ve taken of the paintings of us. ‘These are snapshots of what we had,’ I say, dropping the book on the table. ‘Us. Our story. Everything we lived and what we stand to lose if we remain apart. We made those memories. I kept those close to me when I didn’t know if I’d lose you. You changed me, Luca. You’re everything I never knew I was looking for and more,’ I say, wiping the tears from my eyes.
He looks up at me, his own eyes filled with tears, and says, ‘Mia, I’m so sorry.’
‘I’m checking into a hotel,’ I say as I glance around the square. ‘Right over there. That’s where I’ll be. Until you’re ready. I will be there for a day, a month, six months or a year. I’m not going anywhere until you come home. Otherwise, I’ll make this my home.’
The room service I ordered goes cold under the dome of its metal cover. I’m too busy contemplating how precious life is, how much trust is truly required of us in order to live life fully, especially in times of uncertainty when we feel the overwhelming need to control or move away from anything that might hurt us or those close to us. I decide that if I do lose Luca, this gift of insight and deep knowing is something I will carry w
ith me for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short it ends up being. Luca gifted me so much more than his unconditional love. He gifted me a fresh pair of eyes.
From the balcony, I watch couples fill tables in restaurants where streetlights illuminate the piazza and outdoor heaters take the chill out of the air. I pull myself away from the balcony and go to run a bath when the hotel phone rings.
‘Ms Moretti, there’s a gentleman by the name of Luca Bonnici insisting on seeing you.’
‘Please let him up,’ I reply.
A minute or so later there’s a knock at the door. He’s shaved and is wearing his favourite pair of jeans and a cotton shirt. There’s a bunch of roses on his lap.
‘Come in,’ I say. I sit on the edge of the bed so that we’re sitting at eye level and he moves as close as he possibly can, our knees almost touching.
‘I can’t hurt you anymore, Mia.’
‘I don’t know what you mean by that.’
‘I’m sorry I made you find an empty bed at the hospital. I knew that if I saw your face, heard your voice, felt your touch, I’d never be able to leave. I asked about you every day. Every single day.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘That letter, and those pictures—how do we ever get back to that?’
‘Everything’s changed, but the important things have stayed the same.’
He bites his lip.
‘I’ve wanted to tell you that I’ve been painting—a lot.’
‘I saw. They’re beautiful.’
‘You haven’t seen half of it, Luca. My work has been selling. I’ve been working on commissioned paintings.’
‘Really? That’s amazing. How did this happen?’
‘I’d been painting with Signor Fiorelli. It was good for me—for both of us. Anyway, he sold a few paintings for me, and then Clara bought one, and then she commissioned three pieces of work. I didn’t know it was her at the time because she stayed anonymous, but she offered me a lot of money for them.’ I pull out my cheque and show it to him.
His eyes widen as a smile spreads across his face. ‘That’s great, really, really great,’ he says.
I nod happily.
‘That’s enough to cover your tuition for the academy,’ he says.
‘It’s also enough to cover our living expenses until we can work things out with the officina.’
Luca’s smile fades. ‘I want this more than anything, Mia—to be with you, to start a new life with you—but I need to be able to work it out first.’
‘You don’t need to do anything. You just need to trust.’
‘I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.’
‘Just come home and we’ll work out the rest later—together.’
He takes a deep breath.
‘I’ve already arranged a place for us to stay. Somewhere you’ll be comfortable, and if you do happen to find yourself staring blankly outside the window, the view is pretty special.’
He shakes his head. ‘You’re unbelievable.’
‘I told you—I’m not going home without you.’
There’s a long pause, and he lets out a long exhale.
‘Say yes, please just say yes,’ I whisper. ‘I promise you this will be okay.’
Prendi la vita come viene.
I hold my breath, watching Luca’s expression, trying to work out what he’s thinking.
‘I don’t want to live another day without you.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Si.’
‘Stay with me tonight?’
‘I’m not going anywhere. Ever.’
THIRTY
Paolo unloads a box from his car and sets it inside the cottage. ‘That’s the last one, Mia.’
‘I think that should go over there,’ says Mum, directing Dad to the corner of the living room, where he places a lamp-shade. She steps down from the ladder she’s standing on and admires the painting she’s just affixed to the wall. ‘All done, sweetheart. Now it looks like a home.’ While Paolo and Dad have worked on making the modifications the cottage needed to make things more comfortable for Luca, Mum has infused it with all the trimmings a new home needs, and it’s evident she’s enjoyed every minute. She’s even converted one of the spare bedrooms into an art studio for me.
Dad shakes Luca’s hand and pats him on the back. ‘Tomorrow night, Silvio’s bar. We’re watching the Grand Prix,’ he says. He turns to Mum. ‘You and Mia should come, too, Julie.’ Mum raises her eyebrows, her face illuminated by a playful smile that makes me realise how much I’m going to miss her when she and Dad return to Melbourne.
With some encouragement from Paolo, Luca’s been convinced to go back to work in the new year. While he won’t be able to do everything he used to, Paolo’s reassured him he’ll be able to do enough to ensure he won’t have to sell his share of the business. Rehab starts on Monday; I’m due to start studying at the Academy of Art next spring.
Luca grins. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he says. Mum bends down and gives him a kiss on both cheeks.
‘See you tomorrow night,’ says Paolo, holding open the door for Mum and Dad. Luca and I wave them goodbye and retreat back inside.
‘We’re all set now, amore mio.’
Luca flashes me a smile, the kind of spectacular smile with enough power behind it to make your whole day sing. ‘Some mail came for you today,’ he says, motioning to a few letters on the windowsill.
I pick up the letter and slowly tear it open.
Sender: Jones & Frazzetto Art Dealers of London
Dear Ms Moretti,
It is with great pleasure that we enclose the remaining balance for the commissioned works for The Florentine Bridge. In addition, we are pleased to inform you that your collection of paintings recently sold at a London auction. Several other potential buyers have expressed an interest in further commissioned works from you. We are proposing a series of paintings based on Signor Giovanni Fiorelli’s photographs. We have enclosed the details of this request and look forward to hearing from you should you be interested in this proposal.
Yours sincerely,
Clara Jones & Joseph Frazzetto
I fold the letter in half and tuck it back in its envelope, a smile spreading across my lips as I fixate on the view of Florence in the distance, an idyllic sea of terracotta-coloured rooftops visible from the window of my studio.
‘Life will lead us to where we need to be,’ I murmur.
‘What’s that, bella mia?’
‘Sometimes we just need to believe that everything’s going to work out exactly as it should.’
I feel the warmth of Luca’s hand on the small of my back and the reassuring awareness of being held—not just now, always; not just by him, but from within—anchors itself deep inside me. Just underneath that rests a feeling of looseness and tranquillity.
‘You know, when you were in the hospital and they weren’t sure if you’d make it or not, I prayed so hard that you’d live to see the sun rise and set again. I’d watch the sun come up every morning, and then I’d come to the hospital, where I’d sit by your bed and describe how beautiful and special it was.’
Luca swallows as if something has caught in his throat.
‘I took our padlock to the Ponte Vecchio before you woke up. I thought you’d want me to.’
He lets out a small cough and says, ‘I’m glad you did that.’
‘Do you remember anything about the coma or the accident?’
‘I just remember the headlights of the car veering towards me. But right before I lost control and came off the bike, I thought of you. And as for the coma, the only thing I remember was hearing your voice—you were begging me to come back to you. I came so close to dying, Mia. It makes me think about how brave you really are. I was unconscious; I didn’t have to fight like you did.’
‘It was a different kind of fight. Your fight to stay strong and accept what’s happened starts now.’
He nods, blinking slowly. ‘You know what, amore mio? I think we should visit our bridge
,’ he says, pointing out the window towards the city centre. ‘If we leave now, we could make it before sunset.’
I walk beside Luca as we make our way towards the Ponte Vecchio. From the other side of the piazza, Signor Fiorelli tips his hat and I wave back. The cobblestoned streets are uneven, and Luca’s working hard to handle what is far from a smooth ride on these city streets.
‘Let me push you?’
‘I’ve got it.’
‘I know you have, but—’
He stops pushing his chair and looks up at me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
He smiles at me reassuringly. ‘On the way back,’ he says, winking at me.
When we reach the centre of the Ponte Vecchio, we stop under the middle arch and admire the reflection of the bridge glistening on the mirror-like surface of the Arno. Here we watch tourists come and go, snapping pictures they’ll file away and look back on with fondness in weeks, months or years to come. Enamoured couples bend down by the statue of Cellini and snap their locks shut around the gate, despite the warnings not to. I hope they’ll remember the way it felt to be here, on a bridge over a river that holds the energy of hundreds of lovers before them.
A cool breeze brushes against me and I pull my coat around me. My thoughts sift their way through all the events that unfolded since Luca and I first came here and the last time we were here together. I let all those memories knit themselves together: the laughs, the tears, the smiles and the blissful silences, the intoxicating highs and the devastating lows. The softness of a touch and the euphoric high of a kiss. When Luca reaches for my hand and looks at me in that way nobody else does, I’m almost certain he’s been thinking about the same things.
‘I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be here, Luca. No matter what happens to you or to me.’
He pulls me onto his lap and I nestle my head against his body as we watch the colours in the sky trickle away while the sun disappears. When Luca moves his face towards mine at the exact same time I move mine towards his for a kiss, everything clicks back into place. In this world of uncertainty, one thing I know for sure is that tomorrow morning that same sun will rise again, beaming light and warmth upon us as it marks the beginning of a brand-new day.
The Florentine Bridge Page 24