‘You can work if you like.’ She looked across to his bed – simply made with a plain dove-grey cover and two pillows – and suddenly craved sleep.
‘We’ll see,’ he said, gesturing for her to hop in. He turned off all the lights, and slid in beside her. Resting her long limbs between the cotton sheets was the most reassuring sensation. Her hands sought his under the covers, and within moments, she had slipped into sleep.
Knowing he wouldn’t be alone brought Alex the most intoxicating sense of relief. Lucia was facing him, and Alex watched her in the low light which filtered in from his window. He hadn’t closed the external shutters, and the voile curtains masked very little of the moonlight. But in the moment he was thankful for that kiss of light in the vastness of the night. It silhouetted her beautiful figure beside him. The drop and rise of her waist to her hips, the gentle slope of her legs and toes; he felt he could look at her forever.
It was there that something returned to his memory: a promise he had made to himself. A vow of sorts. In this moment, he acknowledged what he had felt all those years ago in the piazzetta. The promise still stood, and it caused him to hold Lucia a little tighter.
As the minutes passed, Alex listened as her breathing caught a new, deeper rhythm. He could also hear the rustle of wind down thecalle, tickling some of the unlatched shutters, as well as the distant honk of a water vessel out on the Grand Canal.
And it was in that precise moment that Alex realised he was without his earplugs. He felt a sick wave of dread prickle its way along his spine, through his chest, eventually spreading to the tips of his fingers. But the warm, steadfast hold that Lucia had on his hands helped it all seep away. He wouldn’t risk getting up now and waking her. And besides, without the earbuds he could continue to listen to her beside him.
As the thought affixed itself to his heart, Lucia stirred, and in her sleep she pulled him closer. Alex somehow knew that with Lucia’s touch he would be ok. Eventually, the desire for rest overcame him like a gentle rising tide on the backwaters of the lagoon. Peaceful and humble, he let himself succumb to it.
And so, for the first night since the accident, Alex slept, allowing the sounds of the night to knit themselves together as the backing track for his slumber.
quarantuno
Lucia watched as Alex began to stir, his eyes eventually blinking open. He squinted through the early-morning light, and Lucia could tell by his furrowed brow that he was trying to orient himself.
‘You slept,’ she said, gazing across at him, her left hand resting under her cheek on the pillow.
Looking around the apartment, his eyes came to rest on the window with the sun beaming through the voile curtains, and he smiled. Reaching up, he ran his hands through his hair, and Lucia couldn’t help but be drawn back to those toned, muscular forearms.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘That hasn’t happened since before . . .’ He turned onto his side to face Lucia. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For helping that happen.’
Lucia didn’t know whether he was referencing their passionate encounter downstairs, or the cathartic release he had experienced when finally sharing his story and voicing his traumas and triggers, all of which might have led to him sleeping. It didn’t matter, she decided. ‘Last week . . . when I stayed . . . did you sleep?’
He shook his head and closed his eyes. ‘I lay here all night awake, tortured by the knowledge that I wanted to tell you about our connection but not knowing how you would take it.’
Lucia’s face fell. ‘Scusami.’
‘It doesn’t matter now.’ He turned to reach for his watch on his bedside table. ‘It’s seven.’
‘I need to be leaving. Classes to prepare.’
‘Of course. I understand.’
Lucia slipped from the bed. Still half-dressed in the clothes she had brought upstairs from Alex’s studio the night before, she padded her way to his side. She took his left hand into her own and gave it a squeeze. ‘What will you do now? Will you work?’ She gestured to the blue cloudless sky out of his window.
Exhaling slowly, he returned the squeeze and said, ‘I’m going to try.’
Lucia didn’t know if by the light of the new day their connection, or whatever it was that was stitching them together, required a kiss goodbye. That kind of acknowledgement seemed emotionally invested. And Lucia didn’t know how she felt in the moment.
Perhaps reading this confusion, Alex pressed a sweet, warm-lipped kiss to the back of her hand. ‘Buona lezione,’ he said, making to get up.
‘Grazie, but stay here. Rest. I can show myself out.’
‘No, Lucia . . .’
‘Please, I want you to enjoy this moment.’ She smiled. ‘Baby steps, Alex.’
It wasn’t until Lucia was back across thecalle, with Foscari fed and content upon her return, that she felt somewhat present once again.
Had it all been a dream? Some kind of surreal fairytale?
