She was thinner than five years ago. Much thinner. Hollows belowher collarbones, wrists thin as twigs. But her eyes were the same—green, turning almost amber in the sunlight.
I put the phone away without looking again.
After the carousel, Juliet tried the flying elephants, bumper cars, and pirate ship. She was fearless, wanting to try everything. Olivia rode the flying elephants with her, coming off a little pale but still smiling as she wiped the sweat from Juliet's forehead.
"Were you scared, Vivi?" Juliet looked up at her.
"A little." Olivia knelt down and fixed her windblown braids.
"That's okay, next time, I'll protect you!"
Olivia's expression softened even more, gentle as a statue of the Virgin Mary in a church.
I watched her, my heart nearly spiraling out of control.
Lunch was at a restaurant inside the park. Juliet sat by the window across from a large aquarium with red, yellow, and striped fish swimming around. After a few bites of pasta, she couldn't sit still anymore, pressing against the glass, talking to the fish.
Only Olivia and I remained at the table.
She stared down, pushing pasta around her plate with a fork. Not eating, just pushing.
"Thank you for coming today," I said.
"I didn't come for you."
"I know."
She looked up at me briefly. That look held wariness and exhaustion.
"Juliet's very happy," I said. "She hasn't been this happy in a long time."
"Isn't she usually happy?"
"She is," I paused. "But it's different."
She didn't respond.
"After you left," I said, "every night she'd hold her rabbit and ask where Mommy went. I didn't know what to say, so I told her Mommy went somewhere far away."
Her fingers tightened on the fork.
"Eventually, she stopped asking," I said.
"Ezio—"
"I know," I interrupted her. "I know this is my fault. I stood outside that delivery room and watched them take her away. I couldn't do anything."
Her eyes reddened.
"What are you trying to say?" Her voice was hoarse. "That you regret it? That these five years have been hard for you?"
"I just want you to know, these five years apart, I've been—"
"Enough!" She dropped the fork, looking at me. Something burned in those green eyes. "Five years ago, you let Bianca move in, let her take my child. Will any of this change that?! I begged you how many times? Did you ever listen to me once?"
My throat felt blocked, my heart ached dully. After a long moment, I managed hoarsely, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Bianca won't appear in front of you anymore."
She was momentarily speechless, but quickly said, "That doesn't mean anything."
