Where the fuck is she? I've covered every inch of the camp. I've walked as far as the lake, without a torch or the light of the cellphone because I'm an impulsive fucking genius.
I even went to my secret place and stayed put, just because I wished to hear a movement of some sort. But nothing. Not even an owl to scare the shit out of me.
Desperate much?
I know what I must look like from the outside. Like one of those meth addicts in withdrawal, looking for something to get stoned… anything… even a bottle of perfume.
And I've seen some crazy shit in my life.
Where was their self-respect? Now I know the answer. It is in the same place as mine right now. A place very very far away. In another galaxy.
That means only one thing. She's in her cabin.
I don't know if I'm being too arrogant and selfish, but I don't think she should be in there. Come on…after all that happened, how can she even stay in the same room as Sandy? She should be outside, thinking. Deciding what to do. Like me. What the hell, with me.
I know she doesn't know what I'm going to do tomorrow, but God, I need her.
I need her because I want to understand. I need to know.
I need to know where we stand.
I need to know what was…that thing in the lake... but not only that… I want to know about this afternoon too…
I need to know what she thinks about it.
And what does "we have time" really mean?
Is she thinking about the future? With me? Or at the possibility of another fuck before we go our separate ways?
God, I'm so selfish.
I want her for answers that I don't have. How can I expect her to tell me what it meant for her when I'm the first one to be confused?
That's really selfish. And evil. Thinking about me, only me, only fucking me.
I don't think my shrink would be proud of me right now. After all these years of therapy, it just took me a week to get back at being a disrespectful selfish cheater.
A cheater who doesn't even know what she wants!
Because that's the problem…
What do I want? What do I really want?
Maybe the real question is … who do I want?
I hit my fist on the wooden pic-nic table outside the kitchen.
God. This is so frustrating. This could change my life. Forever. And I need to know.
This survival bullshit is switched on inside me and I want to know what will happen if tomorrow Martha will leave me.
Do I want her to leave me? No.
Do I love her? Yes.
So what's the problem?
Alex.
Alex is the problem.
As always.
What if she tells me that she wants to fuck me? Do I want her to? Yes.
Is it only that? A walk down memory lane?
Do I want more from her? No. Yes. I don't know. I…it would be wrong. It would be a disaster. We tried. We failed. Twice. But still…
She doesn't go away.
Do I love her? I don't know. In a way she'll always mean something to me.
I want her to want me.
I'm still addicted to her. I want her to be addicted to me too. I don't want to be alone in this.
So, I'm fucking selfish.
I'm pushing for something that I don't know if I want. But I know that it would be wrong and a mistake. And also so…full of things…emotions…
And I'm not thinking enough about the other people involved.
There's a girl. A girl who makes my life better and makes me a better person. A girl I deeply love and I can see me getting older with. And she loves me so much… with such devotion… and I am about to crush her. Kill her.
I find myself sitting on this bench with my hands on my face, I'm crying and I didn't even notice it.
And Alex.
She didn't want any of this, she clearly said that. She wanted to leave, get the fuck away from me. But I insisted. I kept going, like a tank, without thinking about what I destroyed in my path. So I pushed, I pushed and I pushed. Because when I set my mind into something, I go all the way, for my own sake.
She's an adult. She can think for herself, but oh god, did I push.
And for what? Maybe she's confused, angry of maybe something else…maybe she's happy…hopeful… and this scares me even more, because I'll probably destroy her too. Destroying myself at the same time. Maybe she's totally indifferent. Maybe this was just a nice fuck between two people who are just too good at fucking each other, in every sense of the word. If she's happy with Sandy then I don't want to ruin her chance at happiness.
How could I know what it was if Alex is not here with me?
I need her.
I've lived five years without her, but right now I cannot stand the idea of not having her here with me. To understand. Because if she's here I'll know, right? If she tells me that it was just a fuck I'll know what to do, right?
She said we have time, but it's not true. She may have time, but I don't.
And there's another thing in which she's wrong.
Tonight, at the buoy, she said that she was calm and not preoccupied anymore about me telling everything to Martha because she knew that, if I did, it would be over and I wouldn't want to end it.
I thought she was right, but I'm not so sure right now.
I don't want to end it, but, for the first time, I'm starting to think that this may not be the right thing either. I have cheated. On her. I had all the time in the world to stop, and I didn't.
Who does that to the love of her life?
I never thought that I could be here, on a bench, at 3 AM, crying my heart out and thinking about breaking my engagement.
But that's exactly where I am.
And there's nothing more to do, I just have to wait… for a sign. Or, more probably, for Martha to wake up.
In the meantime, I'll keep crying.
I don't know how much time has passed. I have closed my eyes for a second with my head on the pic-nic table and the exhaustion had probably knocked me out.
Someone is waking me up gently rubbing a hand on my back.
I'm tired, confused and torn between the wish to run, fight or disappear.
But I've put myself in this situation and I'm the one who has to face the mess I've caused.
I open my eyes and I try to adjust them to the morning light that is still not that strong. It's still really early.
I turn my head just to see how my defeat will look like.
But it's not what I was expecting. Who I was expecting.
I see Rosa's face, smiling at me.
I feel guilty just because of the relief that I feel. My demise is just postponed.
"Hey, sleeping beauty, what are you doing here?" she asks me with her hand is still on my back. I can feel the soothing heat of her palm through my shirt and it just feels so good. I'm cold and I haven't even realize it.
I try to come up with an excuse, with something harmless and plausible, but when I look her in the eyes, really look at her, I can't control myself. I try, and I try and I try, I close my lips as strongly as I can. I open my eyes as much as possible, but, no, it's impossible. This act of kindness and affection is just too much. And I love Rosa. She's always supporting me, even during the rest of the year.
It's not like we're friends, but she comes to the special events at PoPi, she calls me every few months. I do call her too. Like when my mom died. It was her voice that I wanted to hear, the second person I've called. After Martha of course. She doesn't judge, she also went to a couple of Women's Prison Association meetings with me. She's just there, funny and smart. And coming from a dysfunctional family, I'm so glad to have her in my life.
And that's why I cannot resist and I burst into tears once again. I cover my face with both my hands.
"Hey, hey, honey…what's happening?"
She's sitting next to me now, her hand is caressing my back, and it is comforting indeed. I can't help but think about a few hours ago, when Sandy was doing the same thing to Martha. I just hope that it was as calming as this.
I shake my head… I don't want her to know what's happening. I'm too ashamed.
"Ok…you don't need to tell me anything…" she calmly says. And I really appreciate it.
"Can I stay here?" she asks after a few moments. Rosa. Dear, precious, fantastic Rosa.
I am so grateful, really, so grateful for this moment of peace that I remove my hands to look her in the eyes and tell her "Yes, please…". I also manage to smile, and it's a genuine smile. I raise my leg to change the position on the bench so I can face her and, with a desperate last look at her face, I open my arms to hug her and being hug by her.
It feels so fucking good.
"Everything is going to be all right…" she keeps repeating. And it is good to hear it, even though I don't believe it.
I alternate moments of relative peace with moments of desperation. But, after a while, I decide that's it is enough. I don't want to burden Rosa with my problems.
So I disentangle myself and I try to dry the tears with the palms of my hands.
Rosa just puts a hand on my cheek.
"Honey…whatever it is you're gonna get even through this…"
Those are not the right words, I just lower my head and look at the ground. I don't want to cry again.
"Not this time" I whisper in a voice that I don't recognize.
"I screwed up" I add and a few more tears run down my face.
There are a few minutes of silence, where I just stay there, with my head low and Rosa just sitting next to me. And then she speaks.
"Do you know that me and Bob, we are not married?"
What? My attention is finally addressed to something else. I look at her with a puzzled face.
"When we met, I was married to Tom, the owner of a bakery and Bob was just the new baker we hired. My father worked there too"
God, I'm speechless. Rosa was married to another man? Why is she telling me this?
"My husband, a great man, was working his ass off to provide all the possible luxuries for me and for Amanda. I was pregnant with her at the time and, since it was a high-risk pregnancy, I had to stay at home, doing nothing. And you know me, you can imagine how much I was suffering… So I went to the library, took an italian cooking book, and I tried every possible recipe I could find inside there. I spent my days like that, with Tom working in the bakery and sending Bob, the new arrival, to bring me the groceries and all the different kind of ingredients I asked for.
I didn't like him at the beginning. He was silent and grumpy, always looking at the dishes I made as they were revolting. So, this one time, I still remember it like it was yesterday, I've cooked all day my very first melanzane alla parmigiana, I was very proud of myself. He came into the kitchen with some fresh basil and I asked him to taste my dish. At first, he politely declined, but, after a while, he took a bite. I was the wife of the boss, after all.
He didn't say anything, but it was clear from his face that he didn't approve of my cooking. I reacted badly, insulting him and his rudeness… I was a pregnant, hormonal, frustrated woman, but I still regret that outburst. It was not like I wanted him to like my melanzane, but I wanted him to at least recognize my hard work and give me a smile just because I tried.
His reaction was even worse. He just got all flustered and red but he still didn't say a word. He kept looking at the floor without speaking and, after a while, he left, slamming the door."
If Rosa wants to distract me, she is succeeding. Why is she telling me this? I'm still a little bit shocked by the fact that Amanda is not Bob's daughter and Bob is not Rosa's husband. My face must convey all of my emotions because she smiles at me before resuming her story.
"When Tom came home that night, he told me that Bob had resigned. I was even angrier because Tom was on his own to do the work of two people. I asked if he knew the reasons, but Tom said that Bob didn't say a word. I felt a little bit guilty, but I didn't say anything.
Two days after that, it was in the afternoon, someone rang the bell. It was Bob, with a tinfoil package and a letter. He just smiled, for the first time since I'd known him, he left me everything, said goodbye and left.
I remember sitting in that rocking chair for at least five hours. Reading the letter again and again. It was one of the most wonderful things I've ever read. It moved me to tears each time. In that letter he wrote about his life, how he was forced to move from Sicily to New York when he was just a boy, leaving his family behind because, after the war, they just didn't have enough money to feed everyone. He arrived here when he was just a 13 years old boy, and he has worked nonstop since, in order to send some money home.
He used such beautiful words that, for a moment, I even doubted that the letter was actually his"
Rosa stops her tale just to laugh. I laugh with her.
"Rosa…I can't believe it…it's really…how did you two..? Go on please…" I say.
"Well, in the letter he also explained why his behavior was so strange. His family owned a restaurant in Palermo, so, when he watched me destroy all his childhood recipes, he was nostalgic and a little bit pissed off at this wealthy American woman who acted like she was born in Italy… He apologized, a lot, for this and wrote that he resigned not because he was angry at me, but because he was ashamed for his behavior… it was just so sweet. Inside the envelope there was also his salary for the month he worked for us, just in case we couldn't find a substitute for him in time. And, as you can guess, in the package there was the most amazing melanzane alla parmigiana I've ever tasted in my whole life. I spent the afternoon crying, eating the melanzane and reading the letter.
He completely changed my point of view that day. And it helped in so many ways…"
Rosa stops for a second, maybe to take a breath, but I have so many questions…
"But…what happened next? How did you get together?"
"Well, that's a really long story… but, after that, I convinced my husband to call him back. I didn't tell him anything about the letter, just that I'd been too rude to Bob. Tom called him back and, with me present, apologized and offered him the job back. Bob looked at me, I nodded, and that's how he agreed to come back. From that moment on, everything was different. He always came by. But this time he also helped me cook, taught me new recipes, he taught me to dance, to speak a little bit of italiano. At the beginning, he stayed just a few minutes in the house, but after a while those minutes became half an hours and I found myself waiting impatiently for those encounters. I told myself that it was just because I was bored, I felt alone and I liked him as a friend.
After a few years, they offered him a job at the Italian embassy. A job that would allowed him also to travel back to Italy and to see his family. He came to me that day asking for advice, he wanted to know what I thought about it. I said that it was a great opportunity. I was already at war with my heart, but I didn't want to see the reality, because it scared me too much. He took my hands in his and asked me for the last time if there was a reason for him to say no to that job. I told him no. And he left.
I regretted it immediately. But what could I do? It was a totally different time. And I didn't want to acknowledge what I felt.
After a few days I got a letter in the mail. In this letter he confessed his love for me and he just wished me a long and happy life. By the time I got to the end of the letter, I was already calling the Italian embassy to find a way to contact him, but they said that he turned down the job.
With no way of contacting him, I just thought it was destiny. Maybe I could have done more to find him, but I was afraid. Afraid of the future, afraid of giving Tom the greatest pain of his life, afraid for my father's job, for what our friends could think, afraid for my children but also afraid for my future…what if it didn't work out? What if it was just a stupid crush? What was I really feeling?"
Why is she telling me this? Why? Every word hurts. It's just so familiar in a way… does she know? Is this her way of telling me something? I can't help but feel the desperation of her decision…
"I loved Tom, I loved him very much. We had a wonderful life together and some fantastic kids. And I don't regret a single day I spent with him. A few months before his death, he told me that he wished he could have given me what Bob did. I was shocked to hear that. I hadn't thought about Bob in years and, mostly, I didn't think that Tom had an opinion on the matter. He told me that he saw us dancing and laughing just this one time…he knew it even when I didn't…"
Tears are running softly down my face and also Rosa's eyes look wet.
"A few years after Tom's death, Amanda came home to tell me that she ran into Uncle Bob in the City and that she invited him to have dinner with us. You can imagine my surprise. I almost had a heart attack. I kept repeating in my head that I just had a little crush, that everything was different now. 30 years had passed, and I was happy. Many things changed.
But the moment I opened the door to find a shy grumpy man with a tinfoil package and a forced smile, I knew it. And I was as sure as I've ever been in my life. He was the one for me. My heart felt the same way even after 30 years, there was no point in denying anything anymore. And, frankly, I was old enough not to give a fuck about what would people think. And that's all. We didn't spend a day separate since."
I can't help but laugh at Rosa's words. I didn't even know she was capable of swearing. So I'm crying and I'm laughing, I'm shocked and I'm even more confused than before. What is she trying to tell me? Wat should I do?
She must have seen the desperation in my face because she caresses me once again and hopefully asks.
"Did it help?"
I look at her. Even though I'm desperate, I cannot help but recognize the irony of it all.
"Not at all, I'm even worse, but thanks for trying…" I reply with a big smile and still tears running down my face.
"I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, kid, I'm old and I've got eyes, so I've got a few ideas, but I don't need to know . What I wanted to tell you is just that…you need time. Everything right comes at the right time… What would happened if I hadn't wait 30 years? I cannot know, but when it was the right time, I knew it. In the meantime, I've lived the life I wished to have…so I cannot complain…"
Ok, this may be a little more helpful. But how can this apply to my situation? What should I wait for? I think she knows. She knows me and she's getting to know Alex. Yesterday, at the lake, she knew I was looking for her… but…what is she thinking? Should I tell her something? Should I tell her that it's been already fifteen years since I've met her?
"But…what if I cannot understand when is the right time? I'm so confused.." I ask, tears still in my eyes.
"Honey…breathe …" Her hand is again on my cheek and she's looking at me like…she believes in me… if she only knew…
"Do you know what I did when I found out that Bob didn't take the job at the embassy and I probably wouldn't see him and talk to him anymore?"
I shake my head to say no.
"I cooked" she replies with a big, proud smile.
I can't help but smile back.
"It was a way to remember him and the things he taught me, but also a way of getting over him, creating every day something different and, hopefully, delicious… and it worked… Thanks to him I did find a true passion, and, subsequently, I turned this passion into a profession…and you know the rest of the story…"
She's talking about the restaurant she runs in Soho. I've been there a few times. Of course it's fantastic.
I want to laugh because I'm thinking about what Alex taught me…so basically how to move drugs and money, how to stay out of troubles in prison, how to make cocktails and how to fuck. How fun it would be if I did the same thing that Rosa did? Oh god, I don't think so.
But there's still a smile upon my face. It is reassuring to think that maybe I will also find a way to go on with my life thanks to something that comes from Alex. Does it sound insane? Am I finally losing it for good?
"Well, I cannot think about anything that would help me right now…and cooking is out of the question… I don't even know how to cook an egg, so… " I say to Rosa.
She slowly raises from the bench and takes my hand.
"The less you know, the better…I'll teach you something easy… no one is born chef…come…"
It's around 5 in the morning, I have no intention of going back to the cabin or find an excuse to knock on Alex and Sandy's cabin. What should I do? Stay here maniacally overthinking about everything without solutions because they do not exist? No. I'd rather go with Rosa and try to take my mind off the mess I've made. The problems will come in the morning anyway… And it's already morning anyway…
"Why not?" I say with a smile and I follow her inside the kitchen.
Once inside, she turns to me and asks. "So, darling… I can help you cook whatever you want, sky's the limit" she laughs at her own joke. "You just have to choose…."
"Mmm" I think about what I want to cook. There's still on my mind Rosa's story, so I'm thinking maybe something Italian. Alex loves Italian food. Also Martha, but I don't want to go there. I wish I had a quick answer like Rosa's. I wish that I could just think about Alex and automatically know what to do. Alex, I hope she's going to eat whatever I'll cook. I still want her linked to me. It's unhealthy, but that's what I want. She's never tasted something cooked by me… wait…
I can't help but smile, again.
"I know exactly what we're going to cook" I say proudly.
"Yeah? And what it would be?"
"Pancakes"
She laughs.
"Really? You just want to make pancakes? I was waiting for something a little bit more…challenging…"
"Pancakes and chocolate milk" I add, just to make her laugh a little more.
"Oh darling, you're the chef today….at least let's find a way to make them special…Let's see what we've got here…"
She proceeds to open all the drawers and take out a lot of things that I don't think I want in my pancakes, but it's relaxing to see her moving in her element so well.
"So, tell me, Piper…let's start…what do you think about the flour? Whole organic wheat or white flour?"
That's easy. Alex the hipster of course will prefer the whole organic wheat.
We go back and forth a little bit like this, choosing the ingredients, trying to be original but not too much, and it's easier each time…bananas to remember South East Asia, pecans because she loves them, chocolate chips because, well, who doesn't like chocolate chips? And, as a topping, salted caramel with caramelized nuts. The topping was actually Rosa's idea, but how can you say no to that? And she needed something a little more…challenging…
I don't know how much time has passed, but, miraculously, I'm feeling better… putting my hands into something, literally, is helping me…the texture of the food, the way Rosa's humming and old Ella Fitzgerald song…the smell…everything is putting me in the right mood. Together with the idea of doing something for Alex. Something unexpected for her. She's probably thinking about finding problems, guilt and endless conversations once she starts the day. And she's probably right. But it doesn't have to be just all that. This is something nice for her. Something that I really really really want to do for her. I really want her to be happy. I don't want to question the reasons why I feel this way, but I do feel better, with a purpose. And I'm fine with it. I'm starting to see a pattern and doing the things I want to do is helping me going towards that. Towards my needs. And just this, the fact that I'm actually doing something that I want to do, is giving me hope that, after whatever shitstorm I will go through, at least I would be following my needs. It gives me hope in some way. Hope to make the right decision. Right for my heart and not for whatever is supposed to be better or not.
The smell is delicious, I cannot describe it. It fills your heart. The pancakes are fluffy, soft, they taste like sweet heaven. The salted caramel is to die for. Rosa has really outdone herself. I cannot help but keep taking a spoon and taste it every time I walk in that direction.
My role right now is cooking the pancakes and be careful not to burn them. I can do it. I am doing it. My work is almost done, we've cooked enough pancakes to feed a good part of the guests. At least the ones that wake up early.
The first ones have already arrived. Kate and Molly. Followed by Bob. Once he enters the door, Rosa's face lights up. They kiss each other and I cannot help but think about everything that I've learnt about them in the past few hours and I feel hope, I feel love. But, mostly, I feel hope.
Thinking about how much I was in a full meltdown just a couple of hours ago, it is almost impossible to accept the fact that, right now, I'm almost happy. I'm hopeful. And I really want to see Alex's face once she sees this. She'll know why I did it. That time in Cambodia was epic. And replicate everything for her fake birthday I think it's a pretty good idea.
Once I've finished to cook all the pancakes, I look at them. They're perfect. Rosa was right, I already feel better. I take three of them and I arrange them on a plate, I pour the caramel over. They're perfect. But I have to store them somewhere safe…who knows when Alex will decide to join me in this mess. I don't want to risk that someone else eats my masterpieces.
I decide to use the little fridge I have in the reception cabin. Even if warm pancakes are definitely better than cold pancakes, but I cannot risk it. So I pour a glass of milk, I mix it with the chocolate powder and, with the glass on one hand and the plate in the other, I exit the kitchen cabin to go towards the reception, hoping no one stops me for whatever reason.
It's a great idea, so, when I see Alex, we can also have a little bit of privacy. I just need to find an excuse to be alone with her. Maybe something to do with her ID card…
I close the door behind me and I put everything on the table. There's something missing, other than Alex.
Of course! The candles! I think I have some of them here somewhere…
I open all the drawers till I find them. Here they are…now I just need to place them on the pancakes….I think just four of them…one for every decade of her life. I take three intact candles and the fourth is half burnt. I hope she'll get the joke. Of course she will. She's smart.
I have all the candles in my hands when I heard the door open.
I turn around with a smile.
My heart stops the moment I see it's Martha there.
Fuck.
A/N: I was very conflicted. I didn't know if I should post this chapter or wait to give you some "meat" aka some A&P interaction. I don't want to be a tease. But this chapter feels "completed" to me, and, in a way, I think that posting and reading feedbacks from you will help me write the next one (that I've already started) and try to be regular by self-giving me deadlines. As always, thanks for the nice words and the support, they mean everything to me. Work/Life are a little bit better, and the summer is almost over, so no time to waste on the beach and more time in front on the pc! Argh.
I've received some great reviews (Sappez!) about Alex, and the fact that she could be too "angry", "bitter" or "hypocrite" in this story. They made me think a lot. Give me two more chapters to try to explain my vision of Alex and then I'd like to know if you feel the same way :)
As always, love you.
