He turned his back on me, a cold draft drifting between us. Regardless, I kissed his shoulder from one end to the next. I refused to allow him to carry our burdens alone, even if he felt as though I added to them.
Sometimes,vnukinja, we must be cruel to be kind. Even to those we love the most, to keep them safe. Do not leave him, but do what you must to save him. Men are stubborn and have their pride. Women are capable of this, too, and I see it in you. But we are less likely to play the foolish hero, you see? You will keep him safe.
“I will,” I whispered to the wind in Slovenian. “At all costs.”
* * *
That morning, he woke up earlier than normal—I wondered if he had even slept at all—running a hand through his hair and over his face. He sat with his back to me, arms on his knees, leaning over. “Tell me you’re sure about this.” His voice was low and throaty.
It did things to me, and I almost caved, told him no, for his sake. But that’s all it would have been. I refused to tread lightly or give in. The air between us had turned frigid, had chilled even further over night, and when I went to caress his back, he stood, leaving me in the room by myself while he went for a swim in the pool.
I rose then and greeted Guido, who stood guard outside of the room, with a sleepy “buongiorno,” and then prepared for the day. It was just as I finished up that a knock came at the door.
Uncle Tito stood on the other side, Lola next to him, and right behind him was the violin player, the one who came to the villa and entranced us all. Paolo Occhipinti.
“Youare thecalzolaio?”I barely got out.
He shook his head, revealing what I had missed, hiding right behind him. She was a short woman, perhaps five feet tall, if that. She wasn’t slender in bone, and her features were wide, as was her rump. But she had a pleasant face and she sent off a reliable aura—she was someone you could trust.
“My wife, Rosita, she is the ah,calzolaio. And my son—”Here the violinist stepped aside, revealing his son, a man just a few inches taller than his mamma. He could have been anyone on the street. He was utterly forgettable. And I realized with a pang that would do well in a situation like this one. “Fortunato.” He then introduced me to his other three sons, who had brought up the rear, one of them holding a suitcase. I tried to keep track of their names—they all ended in o—but I was too stunned by the turn of events to absorb them all.
“Uncle Tito?” I asked, cautious.
He stood off to the side, watching me. “We were all there for Matteo and Maja. We were the three musketeers, ah, of couples. Matteo was our friend.Wefell in love with Maja after he met her. The rest, as they say, is history.” He pushed his spectacles up, and Lola held tight to his arm.
“Are you upset with us,nipote?” Lola asked, reaching out a tentative hand to touch my arm. “For not telling you sooner?”
“No, of course not,” I said, smiling through tears. I took her hand. “I’m just glad it was you. All of you.”
The tension cleared at once, and right after, we got down to business. Friendly chatter could be had after we discussed the issue of deadly shoes. I had Guido run to get Brando, and he came in smelling of chlorine and sun, running a towel over his hair. He nodded at the newcomers, offering his hand as introductions were made, and after, he excused himself to shower and change.
“Mio Dio! Lui è bello!” Rosita said, following his retreating form into the bathroom with her eyes, somewhat shocked. She didn’t have much English, and the English she knew was broken. “My God! He’s beautiful!” had been her exact words. Her mouth hung open, eyes still wide. “Luca è ma più sorprendente.È un vero angelo nel fisico.”
I felt a swell of pride rise up inside of me at her reaction to him: “He is Luca but more stunning. He is a real angel in the physical.”
Hewasbetter than his father, in more ways than one. I saw the pride in Lola’s eyes too and we smiled at each other.
Rosita asked if Maja had met him, and when I said yes, she seemed to swoon a bit more. “I bet she loved him!”she exclaimed in the usual Italian manner—loud, and using her hands as a conductor would.
“Loved who?” Brando said, coming out of the bathroom, smelling like a man should. The golden light filtering in through the window only seemed to up his powerful magnetism. The t-shirt he wore hugged him in all the right places, his jeans were relaxed, and his long feet were exposed. He had slicked back his hair but was letting it dry on its own. No pomade.
Maja was brought up again. From there, the process continued forward. In the suitcase one of the O brothers had brought in, Fortunato took out his measuring tape and then had me sit on a parlor chair in the corner where he began to work his magic, under the assessing eye of his mamma.
I could only describe Brando in that moment as flaring—all that was important and could show emotion flared with intensity, especially when the man started to go on and on about my legs, ankles, and even my feet. Which was a stretch, given the years they had been subjected to abuse. Some nights they looked like shredded meat and were far from attractive. But they were small enough for him to praise.
“You are much like her,” Rosita said in her native tongue. “So much like her that I feel her with us.”She rubbed her arms, as if she had goosebumps.“You draw her to you, no?”
My husband, the lion, made a noise that made the woman turn to him, eyeing him with caution. If he could have showed his teeth and growled, he would have.
“Ah,” Rosita said with a glint in her eye. “There he is. Marzio—the way he was with Grazia. How quickly an angel can turn into a beast.”
This infuriated him even further, and Uncle Tito went to his side, whispering something to him in a calming tone. It didn’t seem to be working. Nothing would. The secret life my grandmother lived was too close for comfort for him, and he was powerless to stop it.
He collapsed in the chair opposite of me when I ordered a pair in every color—and high heels to match.
“It is just a precaution, nephew,” Uncle Tito whispered to him, hand on his shoulder. “We must think back to look forward. If it was not for those shoes, what would have become of your wife?”
Brando looked up at him. My heart squeezed in my chest at the uncertainty in his eyes.
