“What?” I said.
He looked straight into my eyes and this time I couldn’t look away. “Luisa, don’t go,” he said. “Change your ticket. Stay.” The conviction and insistence in his tone impressed me.
He didn’t wait for me to answer. He stood up and took hold of my hand. “Let’s go tell your brother,” he said.
“It’s probably too late,” I said as I stood up. “He might not even be able to change it any longer.”
“Let him try.”
We walked over to Paolo who was happy to see the two of us together.
“Can you see if you can change my ticket?” I asked him.
“You’re going to stay?”
“If you can change it and it doesn’t cost too much, yes, I’ll stay.”
He jumped up and took out his cell phone. “Give me a minute. I’ll call now. Be right back.” He rushed toward the house, dialing before he even got inside away from the noise of the party.
The music played into the night, carried by the sea breeze. Francesca and Angela pulled me away from the tables to dance. The air was hot and humid. I was dripping with sweat but enjoying every minute. Paolo emerged from the house, beaming. He waved to me as I was dancing then he gave me the thumbs up and smiled.
I said, “Oh, my God,” feeling crazy that I was doing this, but at the same time happy about it. Something inside me told me that this was the right thing, that something good would happen.
CHAPTER 27
The night I decided to stay longer in Italy, I dreamed about Mimmo.
The next day I went for a walk on the beach. I loved taking long walks in the sand. I wanted to get as much of it as possible before I went back because I knew that at home there was no beach for me to walk on like this. While I was walking, I ran into Mimmo.
“I think you’re following me,” he said, smiling. “Where are you going?”
“Just walking.”
“Would you like some company?”
I shrugged and continued walking. He came along. He asked me about my business and what life was like in Massachusetts. I didn’t talk much, just short answers. He told me about his work as a doctor and about his eight year old daughter. He had been through a difficult divorce the year before and was still affected by it.
“Paolo told me about your husband,” he said.
I just nodded.
“It’s very difficult losing someone you love.”
“More difficult than you can imagine,” I said. “He was my whole life.”
“He must have been a special man.”
“Yes, he was.”
I told him some of the stories of our life, how we met, sneaking onto the Marine base, moving to America. I was surprised at how he listened, how he was interested. I told him how there had been struggles too, but we’d overcome them and our love was stronger because of it. I told him how devastating Brandon’s death was to me.
“And you found him?” he said.
I nodded. I had to bite down to keep from crying. “I tried to save him,” I said.
The image of Brandon on the bathroom floor rushed into my head. I saw my hands pressing down on his chest. Not hard enough, not fast enough, not right somehow. Because I couldn’t keep his heart beating.
“I failed,” I whispered.
I didn’t think he heard me with the sounds of the waves beside us, but he stopped, took my arm and gently turned me toward him.
“You didn’t fail, Luisa.”
“I didn’t save him.”
“You did everything you could.”
“I didn’t save him.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I didn’t save him,” I said again. “If I had done CPR better or gone upstairs sooner or paid attention to how he looked, he wouldn’t have died.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is. He counted on me. We counted on each other and I let him down.”
“You tried to save his life.”
“I let him die!” I was shaking now. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It took all my strength not to weep.
He grasped my shoulders. “Luisa, listen to me. You did everything you could.”
I shook my head. “You don’t know.”
“I’m a doctor, remember? I do know. If anyone knows what can be done to save someone and what can’t, I know. It’s not your fault.”
“I didn’t save him.”
“You did the most anyone could have done. You can’t see heart disease in someone. You can’t predict when someone is going to have a heart attack. And you can’t force the heart to do what you want it to do, no matter how well you do CPR.”
“I should have…”
“Luisa. Listen to me. His death isn’t your fault.”
I stared at him, seeing in his eyes how certain he was. In that moment I couldn’t control myself. My tears exploded and I fell against him.
“But I didn’t want him to die,” I said, weeping.
“I know.”
“He shouldn’t have died.”
“It’s not your fault, Luisa.”
“Why did he die? Why did God take him from me?”
Mimmo held me and whispered over and over that it would be all right, that it wasn’t my fault. In the way his arms surrounded me, I felt protected, I felt that he really cared about me. We barely knew each other, but I felt safe crying in his arms. I had not allowed myself to feel that way in a very long time.
. . . . .
I was not looking for another man, could not imagine ever being with anyone other than Brandon, but destiny put Mimmo in my life at that moment, and though our relationship was not physical, not romantic, I spent much of that last week in Italy with him. We had dinner a few times, walked on the beach, went to a party.
He fed me one night in a restaurant, which made me smile. I felt like a little girl again. Another night he ordered all kinds of seafood and we laughed as we tasted it all. Being with him was like a medicine that gradually made you feel better.
The last night we had dinner together again, and afterward we picked up his daughter Nicole and the three of us went to the beach. I took off my high heels. Mimmo rolled up his linen pants. The three of us walked under the night sky, gazing out over the Mediterranean at the stars glistening in the sky. Waves washed in. Nicole and I tried to jump out of the way. We were wearing short dresses and the cool water splashed our legs. A few times we splashed Mimmo by mistake, soaking his pants. He chased us. We all laughed.
Nicole ran off to chase a sea gull, laughing. I stopped, suddenly filled with guilt that I was having such a good time. I stared at a wave washing ashore. Mimmo came over and put his arm around me.
“It’s all right,” he said.
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s all right to be happy.”
I shook my head. “My husband…” I started to say, but my words trailed off.
“Luisa, do you think he would want you to be unhappy?”
“It’s wrong.”
“No, it isn’t. Your husband loved you. He would want you to be happy. If it were the other way around, you would want him to be happy, right?”
I nodded.
“So it has nothing to do with him not wanting you to be happy,” Mimmo said. “He does. The one that needs to want you to be happy again”—he put his finger under my chin and lifted my face until I was staring into his eyes—“is you,” he said. “Are you ready to be happy again?”
.
. . . .
The day I left for Boston, Mimmo couldn’t come to the airport because he had too many patients. But in between patients he called me, asking how I was, did I need anything, when was I coming back, then he’d hurry off to see another patient. Then the phone would ring again and it would be Mimmo. He had a few minutes before the next patient to talk to me. I thought it was funny, and cute, and romantic. He called three times before my flight left.
The trip back to Boston was long and filled with mixed feelings. I was going back to the life that was familiar, the life I’d built with Brandon. But I felt a new strength, like a part of me was reborn. For so long I had thought my life was over, and I had lived every day that way, never imagining the long term, never envisioning my being happy again as part of it.
But as I stared out the window of the jet at the clouds, I honestly felt the seeds of happiness growing inside me. But with that happiness was a new sadness. I was already missing Mimmo. We lived five thousand miles apart. We had separate lives. I had enjoyed being with him, and I dreaded being alone again.
When I got back to Massachusetts and arrived at my house, the size and emptiness of it struck me. All of this massive emptiness was mine, and mine alone. Here, though, I sensed Brandon’s presence. Not in a bad way. It was a strange mixture of reassurance that he was watching over me and loneliness that he wasn’t physically with me any longer, and never would be.
I went up to the bedroom, left the suitcase by the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed. As always, I felt him there. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I closed my eyes. Like this I could always feel his presence stronger.
I had to ask him.
“Brandon, my love,” I said. “Are you happy with my new relationship?”
In the silence of the room, I listened to his answer and began to cry.
CHAPTER 28
It was warm for late October.
I left work early on Tuesday. Things had been hectic for weeks now, fourteen hour days most of the time. The business was doing well, but being the sole owner meant that everything fell on me. I’d promoted Garren to manager and handed over some of the responsibility, and over time I expected him to take some of the load from me, but I still needed to train him more, and I still had to handle any problem that arose, to make sure there was enough money to pay everything that needed to be paid and to make the decision about whether to buy a second studio or expand this one.
I rushed home, showered and changed, and hurried out again. This time of day it took almost an hour to drive to Boston. I didn’t want to be late. I parked in the lot outside Terminal E and checked my makeup in the rearview mirror. I was more nervous than I’d been in a long time. My hands were shaking. I took a deep breath to calm myself, got out and went inside to the lower level, where passengers arrived. People were already coming out from customs. I feared I’d missed him.
I was about to turn and see if he was already in the terminal when the doors opened again and Mimmo walked through. It was a strange feeling, as though I was seeing him not just with my eyes but with my heart. For an instant I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move. We’d been apart for two and a half months, during which I’d changed so much. Not physically, but mentally and spiritually. The darkness had begun to allow in some light. I had a life. I wanted to have a life. I knew it was okay.
I was trembling as I started toward him. He scanned the terminal and saw me. His face lit up. Instantly he began toward me, at first walking, but then breaking into a quick run. I ran to meet him. We came together and embraced as though we were long lost lovers who’d known each other for a lifetime and had been torn apart, finally to be reunited.
I held his body, feeling his strength and confidence and desire for me. He’d been on a plane all day, but he smelled so good I didn’t want to let go. His arms wrapped tightly around me. I didn’t want him ever to let go of me either. I felt his breath on my neck.
“It’s so good to see you, Luisa,” he whispered. “I missed you so much.”
I’d been scared to say it first. “I missed you,” I said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
People rushed past us to catch taxis or meet the people waiting for them. We held each other for a long moment and then, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, we walked toward my SUV in the parking lot, both of us eager to see exactly where it would take us.
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Until Forever Page 19