Vincent’s shock was met with the arrival of pillows, a tripod and more clothing. He screamed, unable to catch it all in time as his portfolio came hurtling towards the cobblestones. His largest tripod, a recent acquisition, now lay in several parts, unable to be resurrected by even Christ himself.
‘Why are you doing this?!’ Vincent’s gaze returned to the window, ready to hurl some timely abuse at Marcella, but it wasn’t she who now stood at the window. ‘Elisabetta?’ he asked, rising to his feet, dusting himself off.
Carlotta leaned out over the ledge for dramatic effect. ‘No,’ she called down with a condescending air. ‘Carlotta.Piacere.’ Even from a height, Carlotta could see the last of the colour drain from Vincent’s face. ‘Didn’t see that coming, did you?’
‘What are you talking about?’
Her lips pursed together. ‘You made a big mistake. Averybig mistake. And, as you can see,’ she gestured to the mayhem below, ‘Roma loves to make a scene.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
‘The lies. The cheating.’
‘You have no proof of anything!’
Then Marcella reappeared by Carlotta’s side, brandishing a cylindrical Bluetooth speaker. She waved it out the window, and those disgusting deceit-filled words he had shared in Giacomino’senotecafilled Via di San Calisto.
Balling his fists by his side, he screamed, ‘That could be anyone!’
Both Carlotta and Marcella cackled, and Marcella killed the audio.
‘But it’s you. Roma’s greatestcafone!’ Carlotta pulled Marcella into an exaggerated bow, and they disappeared from view.
Vincent, frantically pacing the cobblestones, was terrified by what a retreat could mean. Would more of his possessions come flying through the air? Was that their way of ending on a high, seemingly victorious? ‘What are you doing?’ he called again, trying his best to goad them to return.
Serene and unperturbed, Stella stood at the window, her arms crossed, looking down at him and the humiliating scene. ‘Taking out the trash! Because, Vincent, that’s what you are, and the street is exactly where you belong tonight! Happy New Year.’
For once, the threat and menace Vincent posed Stella simply evaporated. It had no substance, no solidity. This was nowhersafe space.
‘Stella, have you lost your mind?!’ Vincent’s screams reverberated off the surrounding buildings, only magnifying his rage.
‘Yes, because a woman looking for justice must have gonecrazy,’ she mocked him, hearing the confidence build behind her voice. ‘You are going to walk out of my life tonight, as I want to begin the next chapter of my life – the new year – without you.’ She turned up the sass, leaning assertively out the window. ‘How does it feel to have the rug pulled out from under you? Hmm?’
‘I swear to God, Stella,’ he bellowed, attempting to open the door at street-level. It was securely locked. Despite his size and strength, it remained steadfast, sending him tumbling to the cobblestones. ‘Let me in, God damn it.’
‘How does it feel to be vulnerable? Exposed? Enjoy the moment, Vincent.Allof Roma knows you deserve it. You’ve worked hard to get here.’
‘Just wait until I tell Giulio and Elda!’
Stella laughed. ‘They offered to help us when we told them! You neverneededRoma. You just needed a new karmic battlefield. And my heart was a poor choice.’
‘You’re pathetic,’ he hissed, and Stella, even from three storeys up, saw the spray of saliva spurt from his mouth. ‘You’re broken, Stella. Beyond repair.’ He was furiously banging on the door with both fists, much to the delight of the crowd, who continued to jeer and laugh at him.
‘I’mbeyond repair? I’d say your bedside table is in worse shape right now.’ She gave a hearty laugh as Vincent tripped backwards over the mess. ‘You know, these few weeks apart have helped me realise that it’s better to be The Broken One than to be The Breaker. I can put myself back together, butyou, dear Vincent?Youwill continue to cause destruction wherever you go. You will break hearts and lives. Because that’s whoyouare.’
Stella stepped momentarily away from the window.
She heard him tease the crowd. ‘That’s right. There she goes. Can’t take confrontation, can you Stella? Huh? Weak. That’s what you are. Weak. Broken. And unemployed!’
She reappeared at the window. Unwavering, assertive and standing tall, she took a moment to take in the scene. Vincent, struggling to maintain his composure, was now arguing with locals who had begun to pick through his belongings.
A beaming smile formed across Stella’s face, bolstered by a final wave of self-assurance. She closed her eyes, picturing the face of Judith – strong, resolute Judith – ready to deliver her own final blow.
Never having returned the pages of Céline’s letters to their envelopes, Stella took a bundle of the deceit and adultery-filled pages and let them hover mid-air out the window in her grasp. To the mix, she had also added the notes and letters Vincent had left forher, making for the most noxious collection of words and lies.
‘Oh, Vincent!’ she called down, regaining his attention. ‘VAFFANCULO!’ With the force of years of pent-up hurt and frustration, she hurled the letters out the window. In contrast to her strength and resolve, the pages floated gracefully to the cobblestones, some even being caught by members of the audience.
It all cascaded together to its death.
