I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling. I want to address the issue I’ve been putting off. The issue lurking at the back of my mind all day throughout our lovemaking.
Finally, without looking at her, I speak. “Angela. You’re important to me. You really are. But… I… listen, you can’t love me. Because of who I am. Who I’ve become. If we had done this properly eight years ago, we could be together. But it’s too late now. Too late for me. I’m your kidnapper. A monster. A killer. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. I almost murdered my own caretaker.”
“But you’re also capable of so much more,” she says, turning toward me to press into my side. She rests a hand on my chest. “I’ve seen the real you. This past day, he’s theonly oneI’ve seen. You’re anything but a monster. At least not when you’re with me.”
“I can’t allow you to get close to me,” I insist. “It’s… dangerous. Because of the life I lead there’s no guarantee I can protect you. I’ll try, I swear I will, but I can’t make you live in a glass box like your father. I want you to be free. That’s where the danger lies. People will try to use you to get to me. You could be kidnapped again, tortured, or worse. Not everyone will treat you as I did. I just can’t bring myself to let something like that happen.” I pause, close my eyes. “I couldn’t save my own brother. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to save you when the time came, either. I’m terrified of it.”
I’m trying to make it clear why she can’t love me. Trying to convince her. Though I wonder if I’m just trying to convince myself.
I feel the back of her hand stroking my face. I open my eyes, look at her.
She smiles tenderly. “My sweet Massimo. I know you’ll protect me no matter what happens. I never feel safer than I’m with you.”
I look away, feeling guilty, because I wonder if her trust in me is misplaced. Ididlet my brother die.
“Look at me,” she says. “Look.”
I finally gaze at her.
“I’m safe with you,” she says earnestly. “You’ll protect me to the best of your abilities, no matter what. I’m aware of the risk. There’s always risk in life.” She pauses. “Listen to me, it wasn’t your fault your brother died. It wasn’t. It was a random act of fate. You just so happened to be driving through that intersection at the wrong time. It could have happened to anyone. There are no guarantees in life. Ever. I understand this. Your brother understood it. He wouldn’t have wanted you to shut yourself off from the world like this. Or to seal away your heart inside a vault of pain for the rest of your life. Forgive yourself for his death, Massimo. Let go of the pain.”
I return my eyes to the ceiling. I want to let go like she asks, I really do. But just because someone tells you to let go of a pain you’ve held onto for years doesn’t mean it’s something easy to do. Even if that someone is important to you.
“You know,” I begin. “First I lost you. Then I lost him. It was too much for me. I told you I hated the world. I wasn’t kidding. I hatedeveryone. Well, except my brothers, and Rosa. I hated doctors and nurses the most, because I blamed them for his death, for not saving him. And of course the guy who T-Boned us, who survived the crash. He didn’t live for very long, my brothers made sure of that. I was still recovering in the hospital, but they showed me a video of what they did to him. It wasn’t pretty. And to be honest, it didn’t even make me feel any better. I continued down that dark path of hate. It became blacker with each day, eventually culminating in your kidnapping.”
I look at Angela finally. “I didn’t think I was redeemable. But then you took off my mask. Both physically, and figuratively.”
It’s my turn to rest a hand on her cheek. She looks at me tenderly, with such care in her eyes when I do.
“Matteo and I, we were close,” I tell her. “I felt closer to him than all my other brothers. Closer to him than Rosa. When we were kids struggling to survive on the streets of Palermo, after we finally got an apartment, Matteo would sometimes go off on his own in the morning. I was never sure where he went. I guessed he had a girl he liked. In any case, one day when he returned, he had two black eyes. I asked him who had done it, but he wouldn’t tell me.
“So I followed him the next time he went off on his own. Matteo took the metro to an upscale neighborhood and purchased a rose from a street vendor. Then he waited on the front steps of an apartment. When an older woman came out, he offered it to her. She took it, but upon seeing his black eyes she became concerned. He seemed to shrug it off, and they talked for a while, but then she finally bid him farewell. He blew her a kiss, and she smiled, shaking her head. So I was right about the girl part. Though she was a little older than I’d expected.
“After, Matteo detoured down a side street on the way home. There were some street kids hanging out in an alleyway. I could tell from Matteo’s aggressive body language that he expected them. He immediately launched himself on the closest kid, but there were too many, and they quickly overwhelmed him. Soon they had him on the ground and were kicking him.
“I raced to his side and tore into those little shits. They had no chance, considering they were all around the same age as Matteo, and in a few moments most of them had run away, while the remainder were on the ground, bleeding. I helped Matteo to his feet and walked him home. From that day forward, I swore I’d always protect him. That I’d always be there for him. But I couldn’t protect him that final day. I couldn’t.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Angela repeats. “It was some random accident you had no control over. Please, Massimo. You have to let him go. You have to move on. Forgive yourself. Matteo already has, long ago. It’s your turn.”
I gaze into her eyes and see how earnest she is. I also see how much she cares for me, and how much it’s hurting her that I’m in pain like this.
I realize it then, that this pain I’ve been keeping bottled up inside, she shares it with me. It’sherpain, now, too.
And I can’t keep hurting her like this. I can’t.
So I let go of the pain.
It’s not my fault. It neverwasmy fault.
Matteo forgives me.
I forgive myself.
I decide to voice that last thought aloud, to prove my conviction to myself. And to Angela. “I forgive myself.”
That didn’t sound very convincing. I try again.
“I forgive myself.” I say it louder, more forcefully.
