After the men had finished, they all thanked me as they went back to whatever it was they had to do. I took out the two sandwiches and two bowls of soup I had put aside for Rocco and Rosaria.
Brando lifted a brow. “You want to talk to Rosaria.” He had been doing that more and more lately—either reading my thoughts or the look on my face.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Do you think I can bribe Rocco with food?”
“Let’s see.”
We stood outside of their door, after Brando knocked lightly, like two neighbors bearing the gift of food to people who had experienced a tragedy. Rocco tore the door open, his hair a mess, his face as hard as stone.
“I—I made some food. I t-thought that, perhaps, you would b-be h-hungry.”
It took him a moment to soften and to step outside of the door. “Bella,” he said softly. “Tell me why you are upset.”
I thrust the food at Brando, who took it with a grunt, and then wrapped my arms around Rocco, almost coming apart.
“I’m sorry!” I was somehow not crying, keeping it in in case he wouldn’t let me see her if I was. My entire body trembled with the containment of it. “This is all my fault!”
I felt Brando’s hand come to my lower back, the pressure immense. He didn’t like it when I blamed myself. But how could I not?
“Ah no,” Rocco said, his tone gentle. “Do not even say such a thing,bella.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“Of course not.”
“What about…what about Rosaria?”
“Bella.” He stepped away to look at me. He grasped me by the arms, attempting to get his point across. “She understands our life. The risks. No, she is not mad at you. And we do not blame ourselves for the actions of others.Youare not to blame. No one is to blame. Except for them. Understand?”
I nodded, feeling the need to wipe my face even though it was dry. “Can I…can I see her? Just for a moment.”
“She would enjoy that,bella, very much.” He sighed, looking at the food in Brando’s hands. “Not Bela?” He seemed to be making sure.
“No,” Brando said, offering it to him. “Positive.”
“Give thanks to God.”
I closed the door behind me, leaving Brando to keep Rocco company, and tiptoed to the bed, not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep. She was curled under the covers, such a small figure in the expansive bed. I could smell her perfume lingering with Rocco’s cologne. One seemed to accentuate the other.
“I smell you,bella,” Rosaria said tiredly. “You were cooking, no?”
I smiled in relief. At least she was talking to me. “I made sandwiches and soup,” I said. “Bela was killing the men.”
“I find cardboard more suited for the palate than her meals.”
“The men all agree.”
“Is Rocco eating?”
“Yes.”
“Molto bene.”
“There’s extra soup for you, if you want. I saved you some.”
“Perhaps later.”
I nodded, though she couldn’t see. The room was almost pitch dark, except for the lantern outside of the terrace door glowing orange. Taking a deep breath, I slipped in next to her, facing her and taking her hand. It was cold, despite the oppressive heat.
