by Sofia Tate
Lucy stops and glances in my direction, then shifts back to Allegra.
“Alli, look at Davison.”
My wife doesn’t move an inch.
“Damn it, Allegra, look at your husband!” she shouts.
Finally, Allegra acknowledges me. Her head turns in my direction, her eyes locking on mine.
“Do you see him? Do you really see him? His eyes are sunken; he probably hasn’t had a good sleep in ages. He hasn’t shaved in days. He looks downright ragged because he’s worried about you and he doesn’t know how to help you.”
“He can’t help me. Nobody can.”
Lucy’s eyes pop out of their sockets, and I know mine have as well. The first full sentence that has crossed her lips in days, and it slays me to my core.
I walk away, stomping down the hallway. I get to the kitchen and pull out a crystal tumbler, filling it with Glenlivet. My nerve endings are pulsing with frustration and anger, and as much as I want to, I can’t take it out on my wife.
I take a long sip of it, allowing the alcohol to burn my throat as it goes down. I inhale a lungful of oxygen, leaning against the kitchen counter to steady myself.
Lucy suddenly appears in the door frame. “I would ask you for a glass of that, but I’m not allowed.”
“With good reason,” I note.
She smiles wistfully. “I know.” She pauses. “I tried, Davison.”
I sigh. “Thank you for that. I just don’t know what to do anymore. It’s been a fucking month, and I understand this is so much for her to deal with, but, Jesus Christ, Luciana, I want my wife back! I want her to joke with me, to curse me out, to kiss me—fuck, I’ll take anything at this point!”
Luciana pushes me farther into the kitchen, away from the hallway. “Shh! Keep your voice down! She’ll come around, Davison. I know she will. Just be patient.”
“You didn’t sound that patient with her just now,” I remind her.
“Because she needed to hear it from me. If you said to her what I just did, it would kill her. I’m not the love of her life. What she needs from you is caring and understanding, not a fucking wake-up call.”
She was right. Just then, the elevator rings again, this time depositing my mother and Allegra’s father, carrying two grocery bags.
“Look who I ran into!” my mother exclaims.
“I convinced Mona to help me cook dinner for you and Allegra,” Mr. Orsini announces with a smile. “Luciana, how lovely to see you!”
He and my mother exchange pleasantries with Lucy as I get her coat from the closet. Once I help put it on her, she goes back to the kitchen to grab her umbrella. Before pressing for the elevator, she turns to me and takes hold of my arm.
“She’ll come around, Davison. I know it. Just be there for her and call me if you need anything at all.”
I nod and peck her on the cheek. “I will. And thank you again for trying.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”
When I go back to the kitchen, my mom is unpacking the groceries, Allegra’s father nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Mr. Orsini?” Then I pause, shaking my head. “Never mind. Stupid question.”
Mom puts down the boxes of pasta and takes me in her arms, a cloud of Chanel No. 5 wafting around her. “How are you doing, darling?”
“As best I can. Lucy tried to talk some sense into Allegra just now, but it didn’t seem to work.”
“Give it time, son. This has been incredibly hard for her. Imagine someone telling you that you couldn’t do what you love anymore. Singing was her life. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. She’ll come around.”
Just as those last words escape my mother’s mouth, Mr. Orsini appears in the doorway of the kitchen with his arm around Allegra’s shoulders.
My heart leaps into the air like a fucking rocket. She’s up. She’s out of the bedroom. My eyes turn moist at the sight of my beautiful wife taking the first steps.
I slowly walk to her, desperate to fold her into my arms. I gently take hold of her waist with one arm while cradling her head with the other.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper into her ear.
“Hi, Harvard,” she manages to reply.
I want to shout with joy, but I restrain myself.
She’s finally coming back to me. My Venus.
I lean back to look into her eyes, gesturing with my head to the living room. “Come on. Let’s go sit down.”
She nods, and with her hand firmly in mine, I walk her over to the sofa, settling her onto my lap once I sit down.
I tuck a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, smoothing it lovingly. “Want some music? Chopin?”
“‘Raindrop,’” she whispers.
I smile slightly because it’s her favorite Chopin piece. Another victory.
I glance out the window. “Kind of fitting for today, right?”
She smiles at my cheesy attempt at a joke. “Yes.”
I reach for the remote on the coffee table. The quiet piano notes begin to fill the room. Allegra nestles her head into the crook of my shoulder, and I softly kiss her hair, reveling in this moment that I feared so often would never happen.
I hold my wife in my arms, enjoying the genius of Chopin. “Can you play this?”
Her body stiffens in my arms. “Now?”
Oh crap.
“No, no,” I quickly correct myself. “I mean in general.”
“Oh,” she replies, her body loosening in relief at my explanation. “I could, but very badly.” She allows herself a quiet self-deprecating laugh.
I shut my eyes, placing another kiss on her silky hair.
Please don’t let this end.
Suddenly, a deep, booming laugh erupts from the kitchen, after which I can hear my mother’s giggle, which I haven’t heard in ages. Allegra and I turn our heads in the direction of the kitchen. I can see Mr. Orsini attempting to get my mother to taste something in a long wooden spoon, with her rearing back in protest, shaking her head. Finally, she relents and takes a small bite of whatever he is offering her. She nods her head, and I can see her reach for his hand to take another bite from the spoon.
I smile to myself, pleased to see my mother so happy and laughing, but when I look at Allegra, her jaw is fixed and her eyes have hardened as she looks on at the scene in the kitchen between our parents.
I wince when I see the expression on her face.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She quickly disentangles herself from my arms. “Baby, wait,” I beg her.
“I’m fine, Davison,” she replies quietly over her shoulder.
I watch helplessly as she slowly heads back to the bedroom, with my mom and Mr. Orsini following her with their eyes as well. They look back at me for an explanation. “She’s just tired,” I offer in an attempt to explain.
With a deep exhale, I heave myself off the couch and make my way to the bedroom. Allegra is back under the covers, and my heart drops.
One step forward, two steps back.
When I return to the kitchen, Mom is cleaning up the counter, while Mr. Orsini is soaking the pots and pans in the sink. Both of their faces fall when they see me. “I’m so sorry, darling. Did we do something wrong?” my mother asks gently.
I shake my head. “No. I think she’s just had too much activity for one day.”
“Poor thing.”
Allegra’s father wipes his hands on a dishtowel. “Everything is in containers, so just pop them in the microwave when you’re hungry. I’ll just go say good-bye to her.”
Once he’s gone, my mom takes me by the elbow. “Darling, you can tell me. Was it us?”
I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. I could finally feel her coming back to life, and then she was gone again. I’m thinking maybe I should call Dr. Turner, the therapist who helped her after her kidnapping, because at this point, I’m out of answers.”
“That might be a good idea,” my mother agrees. “There’s only so much we can do.”
Allegra’s father r
eappears, and he and Mom head for the elevator. “Davison, keep an eye on her, per favore. Mia cara is lost, and we need to get her back. Let me know if you need anything at all.”
I nod. “Of course. I’ll see you soon.”
My mother kisses me on the cheek. “I’m just downstairs.”
“I know, Mom. Thanks.”
Both of them give me short hugs before they step into the elevator.
A thought strikes me, and I head for the bedroom. Allegra is awake, staring again out the window.
“I’m just going to the market around the corner. Do you need anything?”
She shakes her head, and I’m just grateful she replied at all.
I grab my wallet and keys before I press for the elevator. When I get to the store, it’s crowded for a Sunday afternoon. I pick up a basket and load it with a bottle of her favorite Chianti, some Baci chocolates, and a bouquet of red roses, wishing like crazy they were apricot, but red should do.
The line to pay is endless; someone’s card is rejected, another customer is complaining about the price of a gallon of orange juice that is supposedly on sale. I take deep breaths to calm myself, exchanging knowing looks and eye rolls with those behind me.
I finally make it upstairs to the apartment. “I’m back!”
I put away the wine and chocolates to surprise Allegra later. I grab a vase from the living room, filling it with water, then arrange the roses as perfectly as I can.
Carrying the vase to the bedroom, I shout down the hallway, “Got a surprise for you, baby!”
I turn into the room, and nearly drop the vase. The bed is empty. I put the flowers down on the floor. “Allegra?”
I check the bathroom, but she’s not inside. I check every room in the apartment, but there’s no sign of my wife. I pull my phone from my jeans pocket and scroll for my mother’s number.
“Mom!” I shout.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
“Is Allegra with you?”
“No. Why—”
I cut her off and race back to the bedroom. I hurl open the doors to our walk-in closet. Her suitcase is gone, along with most of her clothes. “Fuck!”
My head begins to pound, with my blood rushing to my heart. I have no idea what to do, where to start.
I tumble out of the closet, my head whirring like a fan set to high. I fall to the bed, fisting the sheets with my hands.
Get a grip. Get a fucking grip right now, asshole. Where would she go?
A spot of white flashes in my peripheral vision. I glance over at my nightstand. An envelope is propped up against the lamp with “Davison” written across it.
I leap for it, tearing it apart. A sheet of paper falls down to the floor. I grab it and read the words Allegra has left for me.
Davison,
Don’t worry. I just need to be with her for a bit. Please give me that. I’ll be back soon.
I love you,
Allegra
I breathe a sigh of relief because I know exactly where my wife is.
Chapter Seventeen
Allegra
The cold marble of my mother’s gravestone supports my back, which I can almost take as a metaphor for my life as it is now. I need my mother’s support now more than anything, so I came to her, to the cemetery where she’s buried on a hilltop overlooking Naples with a gorgeous view of the Tyrrhenian Sea and Mount Vesuvius.
Showing up on my family’s doorstep was definitely something they were not expecting, but it didn’t matter because I was family. My uncle Zio Edmondo and my great-aunt Zia Delfina were ecstatic to see me, instantly welcoming me with a huge bowl of pasta alla Genovese and an enormous piece of lemon-ricotta cake.
The next day, my cousin Gino drove me up the hill to the cemetery on his Vespa. With a sandwich, some fruit, and a bottle of water I packed for myself, I stayed with my mother all day until he came back to bring me home for dinner.
I filled my mother in on everything since I last visited her with Davison after our idyllic holiday in Venice—Davison’s shooting, our wedding, debuting on the stage of the Met, and finally, the loss of my voice. I laughed with her, I cried with her, and it didn’t matter that I was speaking to the air; I knew Mamma was with me the entire time. Sometimes, I got odd looks from other visitors, but once they asked me if I was all right and I explained why I was talking to the air, they understood and left me alone. I was already friends with the caretaker, Enzo, who told me I could use the toilet in his shed if I needed it.
That was yesterday. I just had my lunch—slices of salami with fresh bread that my great-aunt had brought home from the bakery, along with a nice chunk of provolone and a ripe pear. I’m starting to feel sleepy. I miss Davison and feel guilty for leaving him like I did.
“He’ll understand, won’t he, Mamma?” I ask her. “I just couldn’t take it anymore, and seeing Papa with his mother… I just needed you, you know? But I married a smart man. Hopefully, he’ll figure out where I am and know I’m safe.”
I lay down on the blanket I brought with me, forming my jacket into a pillow for my head. I tuck into the gravestone as if it were my mother’s embrace, and close my eyes. I’m on the cusp of sleep when I hear footsteps behind me, stopping, then starting again.
“He’s here, Mamma,” I tell her. “Mio marito è qui.”
I shield my eyes against the burning sun, looking up at my husband’s handsome face.
* * *
Davison
“Hello, husband,” my wife whispers to me softly.
“Hello, wife,” I reply, extending my hand to her. She takes it and I lift her to her feet, bringing her into my arms.
Her body begins to shudder, and I hold her tighter to me. “Davison, I am so sorry for everything,” she starts to cry. “I just lost myself. And I know you, Papa, and everyone were trying to help me, and I shut you all out. But I didn’t know what else to do. I was in denial. And, more than anything, I want to get back to you and me, but I’m afraid that maybe I pushed you away…”
I pull her head back from my chest so I can look at her in the eyes. “Baby, you could never push me away. I just felt so helpless. When you hurt, I hurt. And it killed me that I couldn’t do anything for you.”
Her hands clench my jacket in fists. “I’m just so angry, Davison. Why would this happen to me? I’ve never done anything to deserve this… I’m so lost and I don’t know where to go from here. Singing was everything to me.”
I caress her face with the pads of my fingers. “We’ll figure it out together, Allegra. You’ll find your place in opera again. Maybe you can teach it? Or work in some capacity with the Met? But just know that no matter what happens, I will be by your side, supporting you the entire time as you figure it out.”
She smiles at me through her tears. “Thank you,” she chokes out.
I tug on her hands. “Come and sit with me for a bit. I’m tired. I flew all night to get here.”
“When did you leave?” she asks as I pull her down with me.
“Late last night. You asked for a few days, and I respected that. But two days were all I could take being away from you.”
“I know. I was starting to miss you too. Let’s just be here together.”
Allegra settles in my lap. I dig a tissue out of my pocket and hand it to her, then wrap my arms around her.
She wipes her eyes and blows her nose, tucking the tissue into her pocket. “I’m so sorry I just left like that. I knew you’d find my note, and hopefully you’d understand where I went.”
“Of course I knew,” I reply incredulously. “How could I not? I knew something was up after that look you gave my mom and your dad when they were laughing in the kitchen.”
“It just floored me, seeing them like that, and it hurt because—no offense to your mom, because I adore her, but I just wish it had been Mamma who was in the kitchen with him instead.”
I kiss Allegra’s hair. “Of course I understand. That’s only natural. I’m not offended at all. Oh, but you’
ll never guess who stopped by to check on you.”
“Who?”
I pause. “Ashton.”
She leans back to look into my eyes, her own wide in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah, and she looked so different. She told me you ran into her before the wedding.”
“I did. After my fitting at Maggie’s. I wasn’t going to put up with her shit, but she wished us well and was glad you were okay after the shooting. I guess whoever she’s dating now has shown her the error of her ways.”
I laugh. “I’ll say. She was wearing red when I saw her.”
Allegra settles back into me. “Yup, sounds about right. She was wearing all black when I saw her. No more WASP princess.”
I slowly stroke my wife’s hair. “Allegra…”
“Hmm?”
“You’d be fine with our parents spending more time together, wouldn’t you?”
She sighs, tucking her head closer into my chest. “I think so. I know Mamma is gone, and I just want Papa to be happy. And if he finds that happiness with your mom, that would be okay with me.”
“Good. I’m glad,” I reply in relief.
We sit in silence for a bit, enjoying the feel of one another in each other’s arms.
“You really did know, didn’t you, Davison?” she whispers.
“What, baby?”
“Where I was.”
“Of course. Didn’t you think I would?”
“Yes. It just… It makes me love you even more than I thought possible. That you knew without my having to explain myself or give any more clues about where I was going.”
“It’ll always be like that with us. Trust me.”
“I do.”
“Good.” I nudge my wife off my lap and rise to my feet.
She looks at me quizzically from the blanket. “What’s going on?”
“I think we need to just be together, like you said. Agreed?”