Before I made it to our bedroom, I went into her dance room and added the magazines to the boxes where the other ones were kept. I collected them for her, so one day when her hair had turned grey and her bones too old to move like they once had, she could reflect on her journey.
After a hot shower, some clean clothes, and a bit of settling, I rested in the bed we once shared, staring at the ceiling. I shifted on my side, double-checking that the knife was still under my pillow and the gun was hidden between my side and Scarlett’s.
The hands of the clock stopped on 2:45 A.M. It was 9:45 A.M. in Italy. I sent her a text, knowing she was at dance practice. It put her at ease to know that I had arrived.
A few minutes later my phone rang.
She laughed and then muttered something to someone in the background before she focused on me. “How was the flight?”
“Turbulent.” I released a heavy breath.
She released a breath that echoed mine. “How much have you had to drink?” She sounded disappointed.
“Enough.”
“Swear to me that you’ll stay put.”
“Where am I going to go, Scarlett?”
“Out—to the bar, to the all-night grocery store—it doesn’t matter where. You’ll go looking for a fight. Swear to me.”
“Tell me.”
“Annnnd…the fight just came to me.”
“No, I’mcurious,” I said.
She paused for a second, catching my sarcastic tone. “I’m at work, Brando. Can we have this discussion later?”
“Can’t. I have to attend your thing.” I sat up, resting my back against the headboard. “Tell me why.”
“Why not?”
I laughed, but the sound was far from amused.
“Hold on,” she whispered. She thanked Donato and I heard some rustling. “He just brought me fruit and cheese—Oh. You had him…?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sometimes you forget to eat.”
“I’m a terrible wife,” she said, and though I couldn’t see her, I knew she had sat down. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Answer my question.”
“I felt beautiful. After we were married, I found something in myself that I wanted to explore—more deeply.”
“I don’t make you feel beautiful enough.”
“Not true,” she said. “You’re the courage in my veins. You’ve always made me feel like more than enough.”
“I don’t like it,” I said. “But I swore that I wouldn’t interfere with your career—”
“Why?” she whispered. “What bothers you so much about the pictures?”
“Your body is sacred to me,” I said. “Just like every other part of you.”
The line went quiet for a few moments.
“I understand,” she said. “Your body is sacred to me too.” Then she laughed a bit. “And you lecturemeabout spreading morals?”
