Carissima

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  Not now, I think. I don’t want her to see me like this, but I don’t want her to think I’m passed out on the floor either. I get up and open the door. My chest is heaving. I motion with my hands that I’m having difficulty breathing, not that I need to. Francesca can hear my raspy breaths.

  “Wait here!” She leaves the guest bathroom. She’s only gone for a minute at most.

  “Take this.” Francesca hands me a pill and a glass of water, but I shake my head.

  “It is a Xanax. I sometimes get anxiety attacks, too. Take it.”

  I don’t have to think about it for another second. The constriction in my chest feels like it’s becoming more unbearable. I wash the pill down with lots of water. Then hold the cool glass to my forehead.

  Francesca puts her arm around my shoulders and leads me back to the library.

  “Lie down. The medication should start to take effect soon.”

  I let Francesca ease my body down onto the couch as she props my head with a few throw pillows. She then walks over to the thermostat and adjusts the temperature. Soon, I feel a cool draft blowing down on me from the vents that are directly above my head in the ceiling. That alone is already making me feel better.

  Francesca leaves and returns with a wet washcloth. She presses it to my forehead.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry I scared you.” I smile feebly.

  “Stop apologizing! How many times have I told you that?” But she winks at me so I know she’s only teasing.

  “I should be apologizing,” she says.

  “For what?”

  “For asking about your sister.”

  “You had no idea.”

  I sit up.

  “I’m feeling better.”

  “Take the rest of these.” Francesca gives me the bottle of Xanax.

  “That’s okay.”

  “You need these. I am amazed your doctor has not prescribed them for you.”

  “He has, but I didn’t want to take them. I’ve been able to manage the attacks. But I haven’t had one that lasted as long as today’s.”

  “I will feel better knowing you have these. Just take one if it gets as bad as the one you had today, okay?”

  This woman sure does have a way of making it hard to say no to her. I take the bottle.

  “Can we just forget this happened and resume our interview?”

  “You still want to continue? You should go home and rest.”

  “Francesca, I’m feeling fine now. It’s just during the attack that I feel lousy.”

  “You are stubborn! Okay. We can continue, but if you change your mind, please let me know.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Silently, I curse my panic attacks for making an appearance since I felt like I was possibly on the brink of finding out what was the cause of the estrangement between Francesca and Giuliana. But the thought of my argument with Erica was too much to bear. Thankfully, Francesca realizes I’m not ready to talk about the last time I saw Erica alive, and she doesn’t ask me to finish where I left off.

  “We were talking about your fiancés the last time. We’re up to fiancé number four—Stello Cascio.”

  “Do we have to talk about the rest of my fiancés?”

  “No, but your fans would understand you better if they knew why you broke off your engagements with them. You didn’t seem to have a problem discussing fiancés numbers one through three the last time.”

  Sighing, Francesca relents. “Stello. I still think about him sometimes.”

  “Why is that?”

  “We never acted together in a film, and I always wondered what the chemistry would have been like if we had.”

  “Stello was quite a famous movie star in Italy when you and he dated.”

  “He is still very popular. I cannot tell you how many people have come up to me in Italy and told me he was their favorite of all my fiancés.”

  “Does he still act?”

  “Si, but he does not get the quality films he used to get. He even does television commercials now.”

  “You’ve never done commercials, correct?”

  “Actually, I did commercials for Nivea in Italy in my late twenties.”

  “You didn’t feel commercials were beneath you?”

  “Not for a huge product like Nivea! And the money they paid me.” Francesca fans her hand in front of her face.

  “That much, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long were you with Stello?”

  “We became engaged after only dating for a month, but the engagement lasted for nine months.”

  “From my research, I read your relationship with him was quite volatile, probably the most volatile of any of your relationships.”

  “They were all volatile, my dear. But the paparazzi were better at catching us arguing than they were with my other fiancés.”

  “And why did you break this engagement off?”

  “He was full of himself! I was getting tired of his conceited ways. He used to rub in my face his fame and make me feel like I was nowhere near the star or actor he was. Ha! I showed him. I became more of a legend than he.”

  Naturally, there couldn’t be two legends in a marriage, I think to myself.

  “He tried to win me back for almost a year, but it was hopeless. Besides, I met Vladimir Novikov not long after Stello and I broke up. I was too enamored of Vladimir to even entertain the idea of going back to that narcissist.”

  “After our meeting yesterday in which you mentioned Vladimir, I did some research on him. He was a very wealthy Russian businessman.”

  “Very wealthy is an understatement. He was filthy rich.” Francesca laughs.

  “And he lavished you with expensive jewelry.”

  “He was very good to me.” Francesca’s eyes get this dreamy look. I’m not sure, though, if it’s over fond memories of Vladimir or the gorgeous jewels he gave her.

  “Unlike with Stello, you went back to Vladimir after you broke off the engagement.”

  “We were engaged for seven months. I got back together with him a month afterward. Or was it two months? It is so hard to remember. Oh, wait. Si, si. We got back together after a month, but broke up again two months later. That was it.”

  “You broke off the engagement both times with him?”

  “Of course. As I have already told you, I ended all of the engagements.”

  “Just making sure.”

  Francesca frowns.

  “Excuse me, Signorina Donata. You have a guest waiting in the foyer.” Carlo interrupts us. Francesca glances at her watch.

  “Dio mio! I almost forgot. What a crazy day! Appointment after appointment. I am sorry, Pia, but we need to finish up.”

  “You know, we have only one interview left, Francesca?”

  “I am aware of that. I think by then you will have enough material to write an article, do you not agree?”

  I want to say, “I’m not sure,” but I don’t. After our next meeting, I will have no choice but to show Colin my cards, so to speak. I will produce a first draft and pray that he thinks there’s enough to publish the article and that it will appeal to Profile’s readership. “Yes, I think you have given me quite a bit to work with.” I stand up.

  “Excellent! Oh, I almost forgot. Your dress.” She screams, “Angelica! Angelica!”

  In two seconds flat, Angelica races into the library.

  “Si, Signorina Donata?”

  “Bring Pia the dress you altered for her and then kindly show her out. Oh, and she will need to have this other dress altered as well. I assume that is what you have in the garment bag, Pia?”

  “Yes. But again, if Angelica is too busy, I can take it to the local tailor shop.” I feel bad that Angelica will have more work on my account.

  “Nonsense! Angelica would be more than happy to alter this dress as well.” Francesca takes the garment bag and hands it to Angelica.

  “It’s no trouble, Miss Santore,” Angelica says meekly before she hurries away to ge
t my other dress.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, Pia, I need to tend to my other guest. I will see you next week. And make sure Gregory sees you in the blue dress before our next meeting. He is absolutely pazzo if he doesn’t love you in this one.” Francesca leaves.

  Walking out into the foyer to wait for Angelica to bring my dress, I hear Francesca talking in whispers to a man. They are both giggling. My curiosity gets the better of me. I tiptoe quickly toward the sound of the voices, which are coming from the living room. The door is slightly ajar, allowing me a peek. Francesca is standing at the bar next to a man who looks to be in his late forties or maybe early fifties. He’s dressed impeccably with fine tailored trousers and a pale gray silk shirt. I bring my eyes closer to the door’s crack. It’s none other than Rocco Vecchio, the jeweler from Castello Jewelry! I remember now, Francesca was exiting his store the day I first met her on Ditmars. Rocco is a regular customer at Zia’s bakery.

  There’s no mistaking the tone of their conversation. They’re flirting with each other. Hmmm. How long has this been going on? I’m surprised the paparazzi haven’t leaked rumors to the media.

  “Miss Santore?” Angelica is standing two feet away from me.

  “Oh, Angelica, you scared me!” I whisper to her. Fortunately, Angelica picks up my cue and whispers back, “We should get away from here.” Her nervous eyes dart toward the living room. This poor girl is absolutely terrified of Francesca.

  Nodding my head, I follow her back out to the foyer. Fortunately for me, she doesn’t ask why I was spying on Francesca and Rocco. She hands over the dress she altered for me.

  “I hope the alterations are fine. If for some reason they’re not, please let me know. I’ll adjust them. I should have the second dress ready for you by the end of the week unless you need it sooner?”

  “No, the end of the week is fine. Thank you, Angelica. I appreciate it. I hate to ask you for another favor, but please don’t tell Francesca I was eavesdropping.”

  “Don’t worry! I won’t tell her. I have to admit, I’ve been pretty curious myself about her and Rocco Vecchio. I’m convinced he’s her secret admirer.”

  “Secret admirer?”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Of course. Plus, you’ve got me now that you witnessed me spying on Francesca.” With my index finger, I motion as if I’m zipping my lips and putting the key away.

  “She was getting all these gifts of jewelry from an anonymous person. It has to be him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many times has he visited her here?”

  “Only one other time, and he came with a gift that time as well.”

  “Maybe she’s buying jewelry from him, and he’s just delivering it personally since she can’t go out without the paparazzi hounding her?”

  “I thought of that, too, but my vibe is telling me there’s more going on.”

  “You and me both. Well, thanks for the info.”

  I wave good-bye to Angelica and make my way toward the kitchen to exit through the back of the house. Francesca and Rocco? Nah! She’s accustomed to dating billionaires and famous movie stars and directors. Then again, the man owns a jewelry store. That’s enough for Francesca with her obsession with gems.

  “Pia?”

  I literally jump and drop my dress.

  “Lorenzo! You scared me!”

  Bending over, Lorenzo picks up my dress, taking the opportunity to stare at my legs since he has a closeup view of them. Silently, I curse my choice of wearing shorts today.

  “I’m sorry I startled you. How did your interview with Zia Francesca go?”

  “Fine. Fine. Thank you.”

  “I was thinking, Pia, perhaps you might want to interview me?”

  “You?” I can’t help but reveal the surprise in my voice, and then I realize too late I probably insulted him. “I’m sorry. I just meant—”

  “There’s no need to apologize. I know what you meant.” Lorenzo waves his hand. “I thought I might be able to offer some perspective into Francesca. I know she’s the draw, and I’m just her nephew.”

  I think about it for a moment, but I’m not won over. “I’m sorry, Lorenzo, but I can’t see how you would be able to offer any helpful insight given that you only met your aunt in person a few days ago.”

  “True. But we did correspond by letter and talk by phone a few times over the years.”

  I’m still not convinced, but a good journalist covers all of her bases. You never know when a lead that appears inconsequential could prove to be valuable.

  “Okay. I’ll listen to what you have to offer.”

  “Fantastic! How about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow is already all booked up for me. I’m sorry, but actually this whole week is bad. How about a week from today?”

  “If I must wait, then I guess I must. What is it they say? All good things come to those who wait.” Lorenzo smiles deeply. He’s shamelessly flirting with me and has no reservations about concealing it. I pretend not to notice and keep my tone as nonchalant as possible.

  “How about we meet at Antoniella’s Bakery at six p.m.? I’m working that entire day so I’m afraid that’s the only time I can squeeze in.”

  “That’s perfect. Antoniella is your aunt?”

  “You heard?”

  “Yes, my aunt told me.”

  I want to ask him what else Francesca has told him about me, but I decide to continue acting aloof.

  “I’ll see you next week. I really need to get going or I’ll be late meeting my friend.”

  “Have a nice day, Pia.” Lorenzo takes my hand, and I’m expecting him to shake it as he’s made a custom of doing upon saying hello and good-bye, but then he leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. I’m too stunned to kiss him back. I merely wave and walk out the kitchen door leading to the backyard.

  I don’t hear the door close until I’m walking through the partition that divides Signora Tesca’s yard from her neighbor’s. Obviously, Lorenzo was checking me out the entire time.

  Why didn’t I tell him I was meeting my boyfriend? Guilt immediately washes over me as I chastise myself for referring to Gregory as “my friend.” And why do I feel like I’ve just made a romantic date with Lorenzo as opposed to a business date?

  Sighing, I walk down Signora Tesca’s neighbor’s driveway. Before stepping out onto the sidewalk, I make sure none of the paparazzi is looking in my direction. As usual, they’re too focused on the Mussolini Mansion or their inane conversations about when The Crazy Bride will make another surprise appearance.

  I cross the street undetected and make my way down the block toward Zia’s house. A motorcycle speeds down the street with two men. The driver slows down and lets the rider off. It’s Gregory.

  “Hey! What are you doing here? I just finished up my interview with Francesca and was going back to my aunt’s to relax a little before I met you. I thought we were meeting at the coffeehouse in your neighborhood?”

  Gregory doesn’t say anything as he comes over to me. A mischievous smile dances along his lips.

  “What’s going on?”

  Instead of answering me, Gregory picks me up and spins me around. I begin laughing.

  “You’re in a good mood! What happened?”

  “I’ve been discovered, Pia! I’ve been freakin’ discovered!”

  Gregory keeps spinning me. I’m thrilled for him, but I’m also worried I’m going to throw up soon. Laughing, I beg him, “Stop spinning me! Stop! I’m really dizzy!”

  He lowers me to the ground. We stare into each other’s eyes. His are filled with the satisfaction of success. Mine are filled with tears. I hug him, and he kisses my neck. I whisper to him, “I’m so happy for you! I knew you’d make it!”

  “I love you, Pia. That means the world to me. Even though you’ve only known me a short time, you had faith in me.” He pulls back and, holding my face with both of his hands, he kisses me. The kiss is as mind-blowing, if
not more, than our first kiss. Tears are streaming down my face.

  He stops kissing me and wipes my tears with his fingers.

  “Why are you crying? This is good!”

  “Tears of happiness, you fool!”

  “Ah! Yeah, I have to admit. I almost cried when I found out.”

  “You have to tell me all about it. Who discovered you?”

  “Only Nathan Horowitz—one of the top art dealers in New York City!”

  “Oh my God! I’ve even heard of him!”

  “Of course you have!” Gregory laughs.

  “How did he find you?”

  “He called me last week and told me he was scouting artists in Long Island City. I guess he’d talked to people and a few of the other artists in my hood. He wanted to come over and see my work. So we set up an appointment for this morning. And the rest is history. He loved what he saw. He thinks he can use most of my pieces in the show he’s giving me at his gallery in Chelsea. But he wants me to create new pieces, too. I’m going to be painting 24/7 until the show, which is only a month away.”

  “Gregory, that’s awesome! Congratulations! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that Nathan Horowitz called you, and you’ve known for an entire week!” I playfully hit his arm.

  “I just didn’t want to jinx it. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. I was ready to explode and tell you a few times. I couldn’t sleep last night. I picked up my cell probably every hour and almost called you, but then my insecurities got the better of me.”

  “I forgive you this time. But don’t ever hold anything back from me—especially good news like this!” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.

  “Let’s go celebrate! Lou is rounding up a bunch of people at 718 Lounge to buy us drinks.”

  “Us? You’re the one who’s got an occasion to celebrate, not me.”

  “You’re my girl, so as an extension of me you get free drinks, too.”

  “Oh, really, is that how you see me? As an extension of you?”

  “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Pia!” Gregory groans. “I know you’re your own independent woman. I just mean you’re my other half.”

  “Gregory Hewson, you’re too much.” I’m about to start crying again, but don’t want to fall apart. I’m so moved that Gregory already thinks of me as being his significant other. So I do the only thing I can before I totally lose it; I kiss him again. But it’s no use, the tears still stream down my face.