“And do what?”
“Anything. I’ll have to reinvent myself too, so let’s do it together. Let’s start again together; let’s take risks together.”
“Why? I have a life here.”
“No, Michael, you have your brother’s life, your brother’s job, your brother’s apartment, to the extent that you can’t even see yourself! You live inside boxes: the office box, the apartment box—you even play tennis in a box. You exit one and enter another. When was the last time you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin? Or breathed air that didn’t smell like smog?”
“What are you saying?” I blurt out.
“The truth. Your job is boring by your own admission. You only do it to prove you’re better than George. There’s no need, you’ve always been better. Why sacrifice yourself for a cause that isn’t yours ... And this apartment? You own it, but it doesn’t belong to you. You’re nowhere; these walls don’t reflect you. You don’t even have your own photos in the picture frames.”
“Good thing you said you’d stop being judgmental,” I mutter, standing up suddenly and breaking contact between us.
“I’m not judging. I’m just showing you what you don’t want to see. What are we doing here? You work nonstop, and I wait for you in an empty house. When you come home in the evening, you’re exhausted, and we eat takeaway until ... I don’t know, until one of us can’t take it anymore?” This time she’s the one coming at me, as I’m standing by the window, staring into space. “Going to events because we have to make an appearance? Talking to bores? Me dodging your exes’ barbs while waiting for those twice-a-year dinners to spend time with your very busy friends?”
“Oh, sorry if everything sucks. What a hellish week you’ve had. Maybe you should have gone home after the fair if you’re so disgusted with everything I have to offer you.”
“Listen to me”—she forces me to turn around, pulling me by the arm—“I don’t want to simply be with you. I want to be happy with you. I wouldn’t be happy here, but what’s worse is that you’re not happy either.”
“You’re asking me to give up everything.”
“We’ll be together. You and me. The two of us,” she replies, more convinced than ever. “Or are you scared?”
She stares into my eyes, waiting for me to accept her challenge as I’ve always done. But this time it’s different. “I can’t.”
“Michael . . .” her voice trembles.
“I can’t,” I repeat, adamant. What am I going to do in Italy? Restore old cars? Make fresh pasta? Give English lessons?
She looks away and bows her head, surrendering. “I’m going to shower and get dressed. Can you call me a taxi?”
I feel like we’ve taken ten steps backward.
66
Elisa
No doubt this is Caroline’s way of taking revenge. She had the power and she used it. I, on the other hand, have nothing.
She won.
And with time, she’ll probably take Michael from me too.
I don’t see how I could feel worse.
One thing is for sure, it will take months, maybe years, to forget him, but if I stayed here in London, I would die inside.
If this is the life he wants, I won’t stand in his way. But I can’t be with a man who thinks I should automatically leave everything for him, especially when he isn’t willing to do the same for me.
London’s a great place to visit, I can’t deny it has its merits, but it’s not for me. I’ve never felt as sad and alone as I have since I’ve been here, and I can’t allow my happiness to depend on the moments Michael decides to give me.
I quickly dry my hair without bothering to style it and go back to the room, finding it empty.
It’s raining outside. The sky, which has been overcast for a week, has finally given way, sending torrents of rain down the windowpanes, making it impossible to see outside.
I’m wearing the last clean clothes I have left: a gray tartan skirt I found at the vintage exchange exhibition in Bagno a Ripoli, a too-tight white sweater that I bought without trying on, black tights with stretched-out ankles I inherited from Giada, and my burgundy Doc Martens, which I’ve worn and polished a thousand times. I look at myself in the mirror. What business do I have with Michael, with his apartment, with his friends and his life?
I close my suitcase and drag it into the living room, where Michael is standing by the front door already dressed and wearing a tie. In short, ready for another day at the office.
