The Céline that had broken Vincent’s heart. The Céline who had been having an affair with his boss. Surely it had to be the same woman. How many Célines were there? Perhaps these were her letters begging his forgiveness? Was she trying to win him back?
Cursing her lack of French grammar, she was about to open the second letter when a knock at the door startled her. Unsure who it might be, she quietly tiptoed to the door to peek through the peephole. On the other side she saw Marco, wrapped in his coat, scarf and hat, carrying a large foil wrapped parcel.
Opening the door, Stella was in a daze.
‘Marco. What are you doing here?’ she asked. She looked a right mess, blotchy-eyed, sniffly, with a croaky voice.
‘In your message you said you weren’t feeling well, so here.’ He handed her the large parcel, which she was surprised to find was warm. ‘A care package from Bar Luna e Lupa.Arancini, sometramezziniand a fewbiscottini, to make you feel better.’ He patted the parcel. ‘All the hazelnut ones, of course.’
‘That’s very sweet. I’d hug you but . . .’ She gestured to her nose with the hand that still held Céline’s letter. ‘I don’t want to get you sick.’
‘What’s that?’ Marco pointed to the letter.
Ugh. Fuck.
How could she get out of this? If she told the truth about her snooping perhaps Marco would lose respect for her. However, if she made up some cock and bull story, he might just buy it, but she would be lying to him. Marco deserved better, so she went with the first option.
‘I’ll tell you, but don’t lose respect for me, ok?’ She sniffed, feeling the throb in her temples return.
‘Ok,prometto.’ Marco mimed crossing his heart as he peeled back his winter layers, tossing them over the back of one of the dining table chairs.
‘I went snooping around Vincent’s room, ok? I don’t know what came over me. I guess, maybe I was searching for evidence.’
‘Evidence of . . .?’
‘Something that maybeIhad done that triggered his desire to behave the way he did.’
‘Stella, do you really think you’re the reason behind this?’ His tone was concerned and sweet. He led her to the couch where they sat in the afternoon sun which broke through the window behind them. ‘Because Stella, there’s nothing you could have done – nothing,niente– that would have made him act like this. People who do these things . . . they are unhappy in themselves. They are unfulfilled. They try to find quick pleasure and attention from others.Cara,’ he patted her hands, ‘tranquilla. It’s not your fault.’
‘But what if something from his past, something really horrible, hurt him so badly that he was damaged in some way? As in, his past experiences set him up on his own negative path?’
‘Would that make his actions towards you any less terrible?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She paused. ‘But they might explain where it all came from.’
‘Where is this all coming from? Now? Today?’
She exhaled, hoping to give herself strength. ‘I was snooping in his room and I found a box. A box of letters.’ She handed the letter she had been holding to Marco. ‘There’s around thirty of them like this.’
Marco inspected the letter. ‘Who is it from?’
‘Céline. His ex-girlfriend.’ Stella shifted uncomfortably on the couch, blowing her nose on a tissue she had plucked from her cardigan pocket. ‘She cheated on him with his boss. It happened a little while ago now. They had been together for a few years. It was all very serious.’
Marco scrunched up his face, acknowledging the trouble in Vincent’s situation. ‘Allora, you think that because Céline did this to him, he is, how do you say, showing the same behaviour as a way to cope with his pain?’
‘Perhaps.’ Stella looked small and weak by his side. ‘But, I can’t read any of them. They’re in French.’
‘Let me,’ he said, making himself comfortable on the couch. His expression went from neutral to confused with the turn of the first page. He eyed-off Stella from over the top of the letter. By the middle of the second page, Marco stopped to ask, ‘Scusa, so who is Leo?’
‘Ah, yes, Leo was his name. That was Vincent’s boss. The one who Céline was having the affair with.’
Marco didn’t react, he just continued to read in silence. Finishing the letter, he shook his head in disappointment. ‘When did Vincent first tell you about this situation with Céline and Leo?’
‘On our first day out together. It was just friendly at that point, though. Nothing had happened yet.’
‘Stella,’ Marco started, an expression of dread filling his eyes, ‘Vincent lied to you.’
‘What?’
