Racing the Sun

by Karina Halle

  “Lasciami in pace,” he mumbles into the desk.

  “Derio,” I say again. “Please.” I crouch down so I’m at his level. I run my hand through his hair. I don’t know why. To comfort him or comfort me. His hair is so thick and unimaginably soft and it’s entirely inappropriate that I’m doing this.

  “Vattene!” he yells, flinching away from my touch. He seems to agree with the inappropriateness and glares up at me with angry red eyes until I yank my hand away. “Go away!”

  Fuck that. “I’m not going away,” I tell him, any sympathy I had for him immediately gone. “You’re drunk and I’m all alone with the kids. Where is Felisa?”

  He shakes his head and closes his eyes. He starts laughing to himself.

  I smack his shoulder hard. The laughing stops, and if looks could kill, I would already be buried at sea by now. “Don’t touch me,” he says.

  I swallow uneasily. I don’t know what kind of a man he is when drunk, but I think he’s an absolute douchebag. “I won’t touch you,” I try to say through an unsteady breath, “if you just tell me what the hell is going on. Where is Felisa? Did she leave? Everything in her room is gone and she isn’t here.”

  He leans toward me, trying to reach for his bottle. I kick it out of the way and then take a careful step backward. He glares at me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, I am here,” I tell him, folding my arms. “Trying to prevent my boss from dying of alcohol poisoning.”

  “You know nothing about me,” he sneers.

  “And that’s your fault, not mine. I’ve been trying. You’re a closed-off asshole half the time.”

  His head jerks back at that. Perhaps it was a little harsh and uncalled for, but still.

  “La leonessa esce a cacciare,” he says with deliberation. “So, the lion comes out to prey.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I just don’t know what to do. Where is Felisa?”

  He turns away from me, his chin dipping toward his chest, his eyes staring blankly at the space in front of him. “She left. She quit.”

  “She quit?!” I can’t help roaring.

  “Yes,” he says, softer now. “She is gone.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “It was, how you say, a long time coming.”

  “You knew,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “You knew this was happening, that’s why we were sent away today.”

  “Yes,” he says thickly. “I knew something was wrong. She was trying to fight with me. I didn’t want to fight with you all here. So I sent you away. Then we fought and she quit.”

  “But why?”

  He eyes me and gives me a sour smile. “Because I am no longer the son that she raised. And she is no longer welcome here. I don’t need anyone to compare me to the man I once was. That man is gone. I hope you understand that. Capisci?”

  “Non capisco,” I tell him. “And I never knew the man you were before. I barely know you now.”

  “Then let’s keep it that way.” He attempts to get up but lists to the side. I go to him, trying to help him out of his chair.

  “Get away from me,” he yells, violently shrugging out of my grasp. “You can’t help anyone. You’re useless.”

  I immediately let go and step back. “I am not useless,” I tell him, my mouth gaping a little at the pain in my heart. I know they’re just drunk words but they hit home and hit deep. My father, when angry, would call me useless all the time. Stupid and helpless. Always telling me I had to grow up. He was right about it, too—all of it—but I was trying now. I was really trying now.

  “I can manage on my own,” he adds, trying to get up again. “I have so far.”

  I take in a deep breath and try to ignore the sting of his words, which still flare inside me. “Managing is not the same as living,” I tell him.

  “Oh, just go to bed,” he tells me, leaning with both arms on the desk, head hanging forward then rising up and down. As angry as I am, I can’t leave him here in the study. I don’t really trust what he’s going to do; he seems too volatile, and I don’t trust the alcohol in his system. If something were to happen to him, then Alfonso and Annabella really would have no one left.

  I take in a deep breath and come back over to him. “I will go to bed once I put you in yours. Capisci?” I wrap my hand over his arm and try to pull him up and toward me. It’s like trying to move a pile of bricks. Eventually, though, he stops muttering Italian protestations and gets up. He smells like gin and cigarettes and lemons, yet somehow it’s almost the best smell in the world.

  Together we stumble out of the office and into the hall, nearly colliding with the opposite wall. I’m steady on my feet but he’s so much larger and taller that when he goes in one direction it’s nearly impossible not to go with him.

  When we round the corner to the stairs, I look up and my heart grows heavy. Alfonso and Annabella are standing together in their pajamas, watching us. They don’t look scared but they don’t look happy either.

  “Try to walk straight,” I whisper harshly into Derio’s ear as I adjust his arm around my shoulder. “We have company.”

  Derio looks up to see his brother and sister and his lips press together tightly. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He’s going to hate himself for this in the morning, I can already tell.

  “Andate a letto,” he says to them and I wince when he slurs. “Presto.”

  The twins continue to stare so I repeat what he said. “Go to bed, please.” I pause. “I will come see you in a minute. Your brother is fine, he just isn’t feeling well. I’ll bring sorbet.”

  Like before, the treat gets them moving. They slowly go back to their rooms just as we reach the second floor, throwing little glances at us over their shoulders. They didn’t seem that upset or shocked, just worried. I wonder how many times something like this has happened. If someone like Lenora said he had a reputation in town for drinking, my guess is this isn’t the first time.

  I open the door to his room and manage to flick on the lights. His room is gorgeous and huge, with an enormous king-size bed, a bathroom fit for a Roman emperor, a sitting area, and a spacious balcony. I have no time to soak it in, though. I quickly move Derio over to the bed and help him onto it. He collapses in a heap.

  “I’ll be back,” I tell him, moving him so he’s on his side before I close the door and leave the room.

  The children are back in their rooms like I asked so I quickly run downstairs and fill two small bowls with blood orange sorbet. Before I head up, I take a moment to breathe. My heart is racing a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of my chest. Felisa has quit, which means for the time being I’m in charge of the twins. There’s no way around it. Even when Derio wakes up tomorrow hungover but sober, I’m going to be the one who has to step up. At least until they find a new nanny, because they all know that’s not my job. That’s not even close to my job.

  But for tonight, I don’t have a choice. And I really don’t want the children to suffer anymore. As I run the bowls of sorbet up the stairs, I can’t believe I’ve suddenly become one of those bleeding-heart won’t-somebody-think-of-the-children types, but it’s happened.

  I go into Alfonso’s room first. He’s sitting up in bed and waiting. I stand by the door and hold out the bowl. “Do you want to eat this in your sister’s room? I can explain to you both what’s going on.”

  He nods and takes the bowl from me. We go into Annabella’s room and he sits on the corner of her bed while I pull over the desk chair.

  “Derio is not sick,” Annabella says first. “He’s . . . ubriaco.”

  “Too much vino,” Alfonso fills in, shoving a spoonful of sorbet in his mouth. At least they seem to be taking this in stride.

  “And you’ve seen him like this before?” I ask.

  They nod. “Yes, sometimes,” Annabella says.

  “Where is Felisa?” Alfonso asks.

  “Yes, did she leave?” asks Annabella.

  I nod slowly, not sure wha
t to tell them, but they’d figure out the truth sooner or later.

  “I am sure she will be back later,” I say, adding a white lie. “But for now, she is gone.”

  Annabella’s lower lip trembles and she stares sadly down at her bowl. “Who will love us now?”

  Oh, my poor fucking heart.

  “Your brother loves you very much,” I tell her adamantly. “So much that sometimes it is hard for him. And Felisa loves you, too. She took your picture with her so she could look at it while she is gone.”

  “But he can’t take care of us,” Alfonso says. “He needs someone to take care of him.”

  Now, this is a pair of extremely astute children. “He might be stronger than he looks,” I tell them. “Besides, he is trying his best. And I will try my best, too. I will look after you until we find someone else.”

  Annabella gives me a shy look. “We like you. We are sorry we have been so bad.”

  “Yes, we are sorry,” Alfonso chimes in. “Please, we do like you. We want you to stay. We don’t want you to leave, too.”

  I’m melting into a puddle, along with their sorbet. I look them both in the eyes and say, “I’m not going anywhere. Now finish up your sorbet and get to bed.”

  They slurp down the rest of it and I take the bowls from them. I say goodnight to Annabella, take Alfonso to his room, and say goodnight to him. I go down to the kitchen, put the bowls in the sink, and turn on one of the lanterns before I turn off all the lights in the house.

  Once back upstairs, I go into Derio’s room. He seems to be sleeping now so I turn on the light beside his bed, a really ornate, fancy thing of marble and gold, and then go to the washroom to fill up a cup of water for him. An Italian version of Advil would be good for pain in the morning, so even though I know it’s kind of intrusive, I open the drawers on the beautiful vanity and do a quick search. I find some kind of painkillers, as well as prescription meds.

  Don’t be nosy, I tell myself. But I am nosy. Might as well embrace it.

  I lift up the bottle and peer at it. It’s a nearly full bottle of blue pills—Zoloft prescribed to Desiderio Larosa. The date it was issued was eighteen months ago. He hasn’t been taking them at all.

  I sigh and put it back, feeling all sorts of frustrated. I bring out the water and the painkillers and put it on his bedside table.

  “Derio,” I say softly. He is breathing deeply and doesn’t stir. He looks so beautiful and vulnerable when he’s sleeping, I can see why people creep on people at night. His lips are pressed together into a near pout, his forehead smooth of the usual lines and furrows. A strand of hair falls across his temple and I resist the urge to brush it out of the way. Knowing my luck he’d spring to life screaming, “Non mi toccarei!”

  But still, I stand there, studying him, taking him all in without fear of being caught. I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. If he would care, if he would react. I wonder if he would ever let himself go or if he’s shut down forever. I told the kids that he was stronger than they thought. I don’t want to be wrong about that.

  Eventually I leave his side, only to return later with a blanket and pillow and wearing the T-shirt and shorts that I sleep in. I move over to the couch in the sitting area of his bedroom and settle down for the night. I don’t think he’s going to die in his sleep but something is compelling me to stay by his side.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Amber, where is Derio?” Annabella asks me as I give her and Alfonso their juice. They’re sitting around the breakfast nook table and I’m trying to figure out what to give them to eat. They have to be off for school in ten minutes and they’re half dressed and hungry.

  “He’s sleeping,” I tell her, trying to slice a loaf of hard bread without cutting off my fingers.

  “It’s late,” she notes in a discerning tone.

  “Yes, it is. He’ll be up when you get back from school.”

  “Are you going to take us?” Alfonso asks.

  “Yes, I will, if you hurry up and eat and get ready,” I say as I throw down two slices of jaggedly cut bread in front of them. They stare down at the bread and then back up at me with confused faces.

  “Eat it,” I tell them. Then I roll my eyes and quickly grab a jar of Nutella from the cupboard and put it beside them. “There.”

  The twins exchange a look. Alfonso mutters under his breath, “Mi manca Felisa.”

  “Yeah, well, I miss her, too,” I say.

  Soon I’m hustling the twins out the door and taking them to their school. It’s only when they disappear into the building that I nearly collapse. I lean back against the stone wall and decide to grab a coffee at one of the outdoor tables that line the Piazzetta.

  It’s quiet this early in the morning and the sun is casting long shadows across the square. A few other people, mainly older local men with slicked-back gray hair reading the newspaper, are scattered about, and a few pigeons dart underneath the tables looking for pastry crumbs. I pick a small table near the church tower and the charming waiter brings me a cappuccino, which I drink so fast I have to order another. And then another. I’m more exhausted than I thought.

  I barely slept at all last night. The couch was pretty comfortable but I was forever conscious that I was sleeping in the same room as Derio. Then he started having his night terrors. Holy bejesus, did that scare the shit out of me. He wasn’t as loud as he has been before, but his cries of anguish were so painful to hear. I don’t know how he makes it through each night, let alone the twins.

  I even got up and went to his side, just in case. I don’t know what I expected to happen but I wanted nothing more than to wake him up and comfort him.

  When he started calling out softly for his mother, I could hear the heartbreak in his voice. It undid me, cutting me to the marrow, and I couldn’t go back to bed after that. There was just too much sorrow in this house.

  “Amber?”

  I look around me, startled that someone could know my name, and see Shay and some dude walking across the square toward me.

  “Oh hey,” I say, gesturing to the seats at my table. “Sit down. How are you?”

  “Good,” Shay says. She looks stunning, even in the morning, and I kind of hate her. My hair is pulled back into a frizzy bun and I don’t have any makeup on at all. Thank God for sunglasses. “What happened to your head?” She leans forward, peering at my temple.

  I forgot I had the bandage there. “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  She frowns at me for a moment and then waves her hand at the boy beside her. “This is Danny, by the way.”

  Danny nods at me politely. He’s not exactly the guy I expected Shay to be with it. He’s kind of goofy-looking and meek but I’m just making assumptions again. One of my bad habits.

  “Nice to meet you,” I tell him and I hold my hand out for him to shake. He does so and it’s like shaking hands with a jellyfish.

  “So where the hell you been?” she asks me while she signals for the waiter. “You were supposed to come back to the bar.” She talks to me like we’ve known each other for years and I’m totally okay with that. It reminds me of my friend Angela back in Cali, which then reminds me that I owe her a really long e-mail and not just the occasional comment on her Facebook and Instagram photos.

  “Busy,” I tell her. “Really busy.”

  She orders her coffee from the waiter like a pro. “Is that so? Busy with the children or with the mystery man?”

  I manage a smile. “Both. And their full-time nanny, who they’ve had for like a million years, quit. Just yesterday. You don’t want to be a nanny, do you?”

  She wrinkles up her nose. “Oh, hell no. I’m not a fan of kids.”

  I watch a bunch of pigeons in the square take flight, their wings flapping noisily. “Yeah, well I thought I wasn’t a fan of them either but these kids . . . well, they aren’t as bad as I thought. Not anymore, anyway. I feel sorry for them. They’ve been through so much and I just don’t see how it’s going to get any better. I mean
, how do you just get over losing your parents? I don’t even like my parents and I couldn’t imagine it. There’s just so much pain and suffering in that house but it’s all hush-hush and no one talks about it, especially not Derio, who’s becoming more of an enigma the more I get to know him. Now, with Felisa gone, I know I’m going to have to step up and become the nanny until they find someone. I had to take the kids to school this morning, which is why I’m up here at this hour. Lord knows what I’m going to have to do when I get back to the house. Cook? Clean? I don’t do that shit and I have no idea how I’m going to get through to Derio, especially when I need him the most.” I pause, taking in a deep breath. “Fuuuuck.”

  Shay and Danny both stare at me for a moment before Shay puts her hand over mine. “Hun, how many cups of coffee have you had this morning?”

  “Not enough,” I tell her as I ask the now-overworked waiter for another.

  I stay with Shay and Danny for an hour, talking about Capri and traveling and this and that before I realize I should probably head back to the sad lemon house to check on Derio. I make a promise to come to the bar sooner rather than later, and Shay says she’ll put her feelers out for anyone who might make a good nanny for the children.

  When I get back to the house there’s this strange feeling of quiet. And calm. I like it. I walk down the hall and see Derio sitting outside underneath the pergola, drinking from a bottle of water. For once he isn’t dressed immaculately—just black pajama pants and a plain white shirt. I like that look on him, too. I know I’m probably the last person he wants to see right now but I want to make sure he’s okay. Besides, I still need to give him a piece of my mind. He said some pretty uncalled-for things last night, whether he remembers them or not.

  I head outside and when he sees me he raises his hand in a small wave. I could be an asshole and not return the gesture, kind of like he did when I first came here for the job interview, but I decide to suck it up. Someone has to be the bigger person and it might as well be the person without the hangover.

  I wave then walk over to the pergola and stop at the front of the table, underneath the bright blooms. A few bees buzz about. It’s going to be a hot day.