I couldn’t take it all in. I felt as if I were in a movie. None of it was real. My mind seemed to be floating over my body, observing it from above.
I sat on the couch and cried and tried to get ahold of myself. But I was sinking. The sobs got worse and worse. I couldn’t get one out before another came, and then I heard a voice, Lucas, asking me, “Maya, what’s going on?”
I was too broken up to answer, and I saw the worry in his eyes as he ran over, crouched down, and cupped my face. “Why are you like this?” he continued.
More tears, a waterfall, bellowing, coughing. He hugged me, and I told him, “It was horrible. I admitted everything to Giulio. It went really, really bad.”
Squeezing me tight, he asked, “Why now?”
“Dante showed up here out of his mind and being super nasty to me. Cruel, like he was trying to hurt me, and I had to make him stop. It’s disgusting. He actually thinks I’m interested in Giulio. He thinks I like him. How could he imagine such a thing?” I sniffled and rubbed my face and went on, “And so I just blurted it out. I told him Giulio was my dad. And Giulio heard me.”
“And he took it badly.”
“Terribly,” I replied. “He doesn’t think it’s possible that I’m his daughter. He doesn’t believe there’s even a remote possibility. And he doesn’t want to hear more about it. And he doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”
“Maya,” Lucas said, “give him time. Put yourself in his shoes.”
I shook my head, still feeling the memory of the moments before lodged inside me like shards of glass.
“You didn’t hear him. He never wants to see me again.”
Lucas sighed, leaned over, and kissed my forehead, leaving his lips there for a long time. They were trembling; his hands were trembling, too. When he pulled back, I saw his eyes were red and gleaming with tears. But when I asked him what was bothering him, he wouldn’t tell me. I pressed him, and he tried to shrug it off. “It’s not important. You’re what’s important.”
But when I wouldn’t let him kiss me, he sighed and opened up. “My sister called me. My dad’s had a heart attack. He’s in the ICU, they just operated on him. They don’t think he’s going to make it this time.”
“Oh, Lucas, I’m so sorry. How are you taking it?”
“I don’t know. My sister says I should go see him.”
“What do you think?”
“It was so hard leaving them behind, and to go back now… I don’t know. But…”
He rubbed his chin and I told him, “Maybe they hurt you, but they are your family.”
“I know. But they were never a good one, and they don’t deserve anything from me. That’s a fact.”
I reached up and pushed his hair away from his brow. “Whatever you do, Lucas, do it for you. Not for them or anyone else.”
I’d never seen such vulnerability in those beautiful eyes. He asked me, “Do you think I should go?”
“I don’t know. If he’s dying…” I paused to try to get straight what I wanted to say. “If he dies and you’re not there, will you regret it? Because you’re a good guy, too good, and we human beings are stupid like that.”
He sat on the floor, contemplative. “I have no idea how I’ll feel. I don’t even know how I feel now.”
“Your parents were cruel to you, and you were right to leave, but that doesn’t erase what they are. You and I both know that. So the question is: Do you want to say goodbye? Do you want to try?”
“A part of me thinks I should, but…” His face was distorted with despair. “Goddammit!”
“Lucas, you left without saying anything, and you haven’t spoken since. Maybe this is an opportunity to fix things and relieve yourself of that burden.”
He was fidgeting, twisting his fingers. The mere idea of going back to Madrid tortured him. I could tell even thinking of seeing his family again took him to the edge of panic. He looked like a lost little boy. Scared. In need of protection.
“I could go with you,” I said. He looked up so relieved that I almost laughed. “If you want.”
“Are you serious?”
I nodded. “And if at any point you stop and say, ‘Never mind, I can’t do that,’ it’s fine. We’ll go somewhere else. We both could probably use it.”
