I considered that for a moment. I nodded even though she couldn’t see. “I do.” Even though the accident should’ve caused me to fear cars, it did the opposite. It took some of the edge off. It was almost as if this peculiar nature of mind could relax, knowing we had survived the fated ordeal.
“Good,” she whispered, her voice soft. She was close to sleep.
After a moment or two, I squeezed her hand.
“He left me, Violet.”
“Hmm? Who?”
“Who do you think?” I sniffed, fighting back the tears. It would hurt too much to cry. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to put the pieces back together if I started. When one of us broke, we usually broke together to stay whole. “My husband.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. “He’ll be back.”
“To bring Matteo home,” I said.
She laughed louder this time. Marciano squirmed a bit, but after I rubbed his head, he drifted back to sleep, his long, black lashes fanning out over his bronze-colored cheeks. Such beautiful children he gave me.
“I askedwhobecause Brando Fausti might go, but not for long. Whatever he’s up to, he’ll get it straightened out and then be back home. He knows what he has. Maybe he’s just sorting through some emotions. Men are like that, you know. They need time to process. As women, we blunder through, absorb it, and then move on, healing as we do. Men, they take failure when it comes to their family personal. Or what theyfeelis failure. We see it as life happens and that’s that. Venus and Mars.”
“Maybe,” I said, biting my lip. It had been rubbed raw, an anxious habit that I’d picked up.
“Can you still feel him, Scarlett?”
“Of course,” I said, releasing a deep breath. “But the problem is that I’m feeling too much. It’s like the accident scrambled something inside of me. And even though I know the fear is gone, there’s anxious feelings floating around, tainting all the rest. It’s like the anxiety is disguising itself as truth.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Yes. No.” I shrugged, adjusting my pillow again. “Not in so many words.”
In fact, my words came out all wrong. Or, not wrong, precisely. But not right either. The feelings were there, even if the truth warred against them. I couldn’t seem tonotgive into my insecurities.
There was also the issue about not being out of the woods.
Brando didn’t deserve to have to go through more traumatic events at my cost. Though, thinking of him with someone else…it sat like the heaviest weight on earth on my heart. It also made my stomach cramp and my palms sweat.
“Call him, Scarlett.” She sang a few verses of the song. “Tell himthat.”
I took an extra pillow that Marciano demanded we bring and flung it at her head. It hit the top and made her hair fluff up. Outlines of her blonde strands rose against the darkened window.
“Ooh! Loot!” she said. “Thanks. I can always use another pillow.”
It took her five seconds to fall asleep. Once she was out, the world couldn’t intrude. She put up an iron-clad barrier. The world intruded on me as if it were waging a bloody battle, tearing my defenses down as though they were made of tissue paper.
My world.
My husband.
Thoughts of him refused to quit, and he stole my sleep and my peace.
Did our separation haunt him as much as it haunted me?
Then there was my son. He should be with his siblings. Experiencing this. When my children were far, my heart went with them, stretching, stretching, stretching, making me feel thinner, more vulnerable.
I turned to the window, watching as the darkness hid the world beyond the glass from me. Hours passed. Every so often I could feel Guido’s eyes on me.
When the sun came up, I turned my back on it, not ready to give up the night.
All the sun did was illuminate the hurt.
