"Shit,itfeelslikeneedles..."shewhispers,pursingherlipsandsqueezinghereyesshut.
"Mypills...inthefirstdrawerofthedressingtable."
Igetupquicklyandobeyherdirections.Inafewseconds,Isabella,withoutneedingaglass ofwater,swallowsfourpillsandletsherselffallintobed.
"Sleep,Isabella."
Shenodsandalthoughthepainhasn´tceasedfromtheexpressiononherface,shecloses hereyeswiththeintentionoffallingasleep.
"Tomorrowitwillbeanotherday"Isay,tryingtohidemyfear.
"Thankyou,Mark.I'mgoingtotaketothegraveanintenseandwonderfulmoment."
Ithurt.Herwordshurt.
IwanttotellherthatIloveher.Tellhernottogo,tostaywithme.Butit'snotsomething shecandecide.
Shelooksatme.Asifsheguessedmythoughts.
"Staywithme"shesayssweetly.
Ihugher.
A few minutes later, she sleeps placidly; the pain is gone. And I, I think of Alice and withoutknowingwhy,IfeelthatIhavedisappointedherbysayingthatInolongerfeltanything forthewomanwhosleepsinmyarmsandwithwhomIhavejustmadelove.Thewomanwho diesandforwhich,atthemoment,Iwouldgivemywholelifeifitwerenecessary.
ALICE
It'shalfpastthreeinthemorningandtheydon´tcome.Theydon´tcome.Forhours,Ihavebeen engrossedinthewritingofmynovelandtheclockhandshavelongedtorunatagreatspeed.I pick up the cell phone and go down to the garden. I sit under the weeping willow and dial Amy's phone number, but she doesn´t pick it up. She must be asleep, I think. But then, I get goose bumps at the thought of sleeping with Alessandro. However, that's what least worries me.IlookupatthestarryskyandthinkofMarkandIsabella.Inlovewithamemory?Crap.
Thinkingofthembothmakingloveputsanalmostunbearablelumpinmythroat.HasIsabella told him the truth? Will Mark know at this time of the night that Alessandro is actually his brother?
Igotothekitchenandmakecoffee.I'mdeadtired,butIcan´tsleep.IknowthatifIslept, uncomfortablenightmaresthatIdon´twanttosufferwouldcometovisitme.Foramoment,I feel a crazy desire to call Angelo and tell him to come to me. Tell him that I feel bad and desperateandthat'swhy,Iwanttomakelovetohim.Feelingprotectedandlovedinhisarms, although everything is a lie in order to regain my self-esteem and not think of Mark. Not thinkingofMark,Ithink,overandoveragain.
"Youcan´tthinkofMark!"Iexclaimloudly.
Iamgoingcrazy.Ipourmyselfacupofcoffeeandgobacktomybedroom.Istandinfront ofthecomputerscreenandIfeelthatIbegintowanderbetweenwords,thatIambeatinground thebushandthatthestorythatIamwritingmakesnosense.Howcan"Angelo"disappearfrom mystoryassuddenlyas"Mark"appears?Iwillconfusemyreaders.Thefemaleprotagonistis becomingascrazyasIamandaterminalcancerpatientismakingherlifeimpossiblewithout meaningto,revealingasecretsheshouldneverhaveknown.
Mycellphoneisringing.IlookatthescreenandI'mdisappointedtoseeit'sCindy.
"Ciao!"Shesalutes,beforeIcananswer."Iknewyouwerewriting!"
"WhattimeisitinNewYork?"
"It’snine-thirtythatnight,I'mstillattheagency.Whatanovel,Alice!Iloveit!"
"What'scomingisgood..."
"Angeloisextraordinary,whowasyourinspiration?"Shecontinues,notreallylisteningto me."Becausebelieveme,I'dlovetomeethim..."Shelaughsamused.
"Angelhasdisappearedfromthestory"Isaydryly,lightingacigarette.
"What?Youcan´tdothat!"
"OfcourseIcan.Anothermanandaterminalcancerpatienthaveappeared."
"What?Howcomeallthesechanges?"
"Whoisthewriter?"
"You can´t make Angelo disappear from the story. What need is there? " She asks indignantly.Idon´tknowwhethertolaughorcry.
"IthinkI'llfinishitinaweek.Oneweekandweleavebehindthisplace."
"Whathappened?WhataboutMark?SinceyouarrivedIhaven´tspokentohimagain."
"What?Hasanythinghappenedbetweenyoutwo?Iknewit!"
"No!Nothinghashappened,Cindy."
"Iwanttoseeyourface.ConnecttoSkype."
"Noway."
"Whatisit,Alice?"Whatareyouhidingfromme?"
"I'mnobodytotellyouanything.I'mgoingtokeepwriting,Cindy."
"NowIwillnotbeabletosleep.Keepwriting,butdon´tremoveAngelofromthestory.He is the perfect protagonist, continue with that storyline. Your readers don´t like the drama, or terminalillnesses,orseconduncleswhodestroythestory."
"Doyouthinkso?"
"Listentome..."
I hang up the phone and then start deleting words, paragraphs and whole pages, starring
"Mark"and"Isabella."AngelostaysinhistoryandalsoinmydaysinTuscany.
Angelo’sreturn
Inspiteofhowlateitis,acallhasbeenenoughforAngelotoshowupatmyhouseafter only a few minutes. I waited for him outside the front door, where Mark usually sits with a glass of whiskey. I get a little drunk, so as soon as he arrives, I approach and kiss him passionately.
"Is not Mark there?" He asks, moving a little away from me and my initial effusiveness which,asnormally,hedoesn´tunderstandafterourbriefconversationinthemeadowofafew hoursago.
"Wehavethehouseforthetwoofusalone."Iwinkathim,takehimbythehandandwego insideofthesummerhouseoftheHopes.
"Thisisn´tme"IsaytomyselfasImakelovetoapassionateAngelo.Mylipsirritatedby therubbingwithhisroughbeard,don´tgettiredofkissinghisandmyhandsburnindesireto caresshistannedskin.Hismusclestightenineverymovement;ButIprefertoclosemyeyes, letmyselfbecarriedawaybypleasureandnotthinkthatwhoeverisinsidemeisn´ttheperson Iwouldreallylike,evenifIamenjoyingthemoment.
Whenhefinishes,Angeloasksmeifhecansleepover.Idon´tseewhynot,sohehugsme and feeling his breath on the back of my neck, I know he has fallen asleep instantly. I can´t sleep.Hisarmsdrownme,hishandstouchingmynavelsmothermeandIwanttogetupfrom there,gotoIsabella'shouseandtellMarkthatwearetwoidiotswholikeeachotherandthat don´thavetobewithothersinordernottofeelalone.ButmaybeIwaswrong.MaybeMark doesn´tlikeme,butIsabella.AndmaybethebestIcando,istohavefunwithAngelothedays thatIhaveinthisbeautifullittlecornerofTuscany,writemynextnovelandletAmylivewith intensityhersummerlovewithAlessandro.WhenIgobacktoNewYorkIwillseeitallina differentwayandmy"nonsense"withMarkwillbeover,becausewewillnotliveunderthe sameroof,althoughwedohavetoagreeononeoccasion.Autumnwillcome,alsowinter...
and the desire to know again what it feels like to live a summer love story, will have disappeared;Aswellasmymadnesstofeellikeayoungwomanoftwentyyearsofageandto thinkandfinallyfeellucid,asIshouldfeelatmyageandmaturity.Wewillgobacktoreality, tothehustleandbustleofthecityandtothepromotionofanewnovelthatsoon,ifIfocuson it,willseethelightoftheday.AndIwillforgetallthis.That'sit...I'llforgetabouteverything andfocusonwhatreallymatters:Amyandmyjob.WhathappensinTuscany,staysinTuscany andwhenIreturntoNewYork,itwillbeforgotten.Justlikethat.
IglimpseatAngeloandsmile.Whatacrazythingcoulddo:callhim...thenaughtypartof methinksofMark'sfaceifheseesAngeloathomeinthemorning,andI'dliketo
imaginehim jealous and furious for having spent the night with Isabella and not with me to avoid falling intotemptation.Hehimselfwasproudofme,describingmeicecoldandimplacablebeforethe flirtation of Angelo with another, just a day after making love with me. What would he say now?Whatwouldhefeel?Disappointment,surely.
IundomyselffromAngelo’sarmsandgetoutofbedfeelingahumanwaste.ThenIgoto thebathroomandvomitallthewhiskeyIhavedrunkandsomeofthemozzarellapancakesthat AmypreparedinthemorningandwhichIdevouredwhenIgothome.
IliedownnexttoAngeloavoidinggettingtooclose.Iclosemyeyesandfinally,Igetto sleepwhentheclockisabouttostrikefive-twentyinthemorning.Fortunatelythenightmares don´tcometovisitme,butneitherdosweetdreamsthatcouldbringasmileonmyfacewhenI wakeup.
CHAPTER11
MARK
Iwakeupatteninthemorningbecauseofanintoxicatingscentofcoffeeandpancakes.Also becauseofAmy'sraucouslaugh,thatasusually,getsuptoheroldtricksinaforeignkitchen.
Isabellasleepsatmyside,calmandrelaxed.Withoutmakingasound,Igetup,getdressed, andleavethebedroom;NotbeforemakingsurefirstthatIsabellaiswell.
The wallpaper I see in the kitchen reminds me of the summer spent with Isabella. Young AlessandrohugsasmilingAmy,whoismorefocusedonpreparingpancakesthanonher"new boyfriend".WhatshouldIdo?ShouldIinterruptthisidyllicmoment?
"Goodmorning,"Isay.
"Mark!"SaysAmy,cominguptomeandplantingakissonmycheek.
"What’supwiththisjoy?""AmywinksatmeandlooksatAlessandro."Youbetternottell me.Whatisforbreakfast?"Iaskedlaughing.
"Didmymotherhaveagoodnight?"Alessandroasksseriously.
"Sheneededsomepillsbeforegoingtobed"Isay,frowning.
"Thereisn’tmuchtimeleft,Mark"theyoungmansays,holdingbacktears.Amycomforts him,takinghimbythehandandlookingathimlikeneverbefore.
"We'dbettergetbackhome,Amy.Yourmothermustbeworried."
"My mother will have spent the night writing and now she must be drooling over the computerkeyboard."
"Iknow"Isay,amused,imaginingthesceneAmyhasjustdescribed.
Assoonaswefinishbreakfast,Isabellaappearsinavioletsilkdressinggown.Herfaceis worsethanyesterday.Hersadandmutedlook,sayseverythingshecan´texpresswithwords.
Evenso,shesmilesandtellsAmythatshewantstotasteherpancakes;Withwhichthecrazy teenager, neither shy nor lazy, returns to the kitchen and serves to Isabella a couple, with raspberrysyrupontop.
"AmyandIaregoinghome,Isabella"Isay,takingonelastsipofcoffee.
"Nono.Youleave.I'mstayingherewithAlessandro"Amylaughsamused.
"Asyouwish."
"Whydon´tyoustaythewholeday?"Isabellasuggests.
"I need to take a shower, change clothes, and make a few calls. I'm neglecting work too much."
It is true. I don´t want to feel worried, but I am. I don´t want to go back to being the eccentricandmaniacalchef,whoseonlyconcernishispremisesandthebadreviews,butitis necessarytotakecareofeverything,ifInowhavetolookafteraboywhowantstostudyina veryexpensiveschoolofcooking.
"Ofcourse,Iunderstand,"Isabellasays,lookingworriedlyatherson.
IpatAlessandroontheshoulder,IlookatIsabellawiththedoubtofwhethertokissheror not and then deciding that it is best not to kiss her in front of the teenagers, I say goodbye,
promisingthatIwillreturnafterafewhours.
On the way home, I send a few messages to the managers of my restaurants, with indicationsofwhattheyshoulddointhenextfewdaysuntilthetimecomesformyreturn.New ideasthathavebeencrossingmymindandthatcanbenefittherestaurants.I'llcallthemlater, whenthesunrisesinNewYork.AtcheckingemailsthatIhadtoread,Iamsurprisedtofind one from Amanda Morgan, a lover that I had years ago and that is directive of an important cookingTVchannel.
DearMark,
Idon´twriteyoubecauseofanypersonalmatterortoharassyou,althoughyouknowthat you owe me a dinner; but better for work issue. On the TV channel we thought that after the controversialbadreviewoftheidiotofJohnLogan,itwouldbegreattoproposeyouanew programforourcookingchannel.Itisn´taboutchefscookingforgrannyoranythinglikethat,it is something a lot more fun. "Love in the kitchen for single ladies". What do you think?
Cookingandflirtingwithattractiveunmarriedgirls(andnotsoattractive),andafterwards,you wouldhaveinfrontofthecamerassomekindofdates.Withyourphysicalattractivenessand your lip, it is going to be a guaranteed success for sure. Tell me your answer as soon as possible,sweetheart.
Akissonthelips,
AmandaMorgan
IcanonlylaughatAmanda'sunprofessionalmail.Foramoment,I'mbackbeingtheMark ofbefore.TheMarkthatdoesn´tdeepeninthefeelings,theonethatcaresfornoonebutfor himselfandtheonlythingthatinterestshimishiswork,hispropertiesandhismoney."Itcould be fun" I think. "I could re-launch my career, I haven´t been on television for a long time. I wouldpissoffJohnsomuch."
IanswertoAmanda'semailwitha"Whendowestart?"andthenthephonerings.
"Mark!"
"Amanda,whatareyoudoingawakeatthishour?"
"YouknowI'manightbird"shesaysmischievously."Haveyoureadmyemail?"
"Yes."
"Wewanttostartassoonaspossible!"
"I'minTuscany."
"Whendoyoureturn?Ifit’snecessary,I'llcometoyou."
"Intwoweeks."
"We can wait two weeks" she laughs. "We'll start in September. First we will have to recordapilotepisodetoseehowitgoes,butwehavealreadyrecordedafewwithamodel thatdoesn´tholdacandletoyouandtheformatworks."
"Wow,that’sgreat"Imurmur.
"Super!Youdon´tknowthejoyyoubringme!"
"Thankyou,Amanda."
"That's what friends are for, even though you've been very careless to me these last few years,Mark..."
The Mark of only two weeks ago would have said: "Calm down beautiful, that will change."TheMarkwhocan’tstopthinkingabouttheromanticwriterandatthesametimeis
distressedandafraidforwhatwastheGreatloveofhislife;Hepreferstolaughandbesilent.
"I'llcallyouwhenI'minNewYork."
"Wehaven´ttalkedaboutmoney,Mark."
"Iknowyouwillpaywell.Seeyousoon,Amanda."
"Akissonthelips,Mark."
Icomehome,withsecurityandtranquillity,thatataprofessionalleveleverythingwillgo well and improve over time. I did not want to think about John Logan again; I have more important things to dedicate my time to, but Amanda has opened up old wounds with the catastrophiccriticknownalloverthecountryandIcan´thelpit.Ishouldstartworkingonnew recipeswithoutinterruptionsofanykind,mixingnewingredientsandmoreinnovativeideas; imitateAlice’seffortandconstancyandstayinthekitchenuntillateatnightasshedoeswith her next novel. But then, I think of Isabella and what will happen any minute now, and my desiretoworkandadvance.
Beforeopeningthedoor,Inoticethepresenceofahalf-emptyglassofwhiskeyontheback ofthegardenchair.MaybeAlicewaswaitingforuslastnight.MaybeshegotworriedandI thinkweshouldhaveinformedherthatweweresleeping.Itsaddensmetoimaginethescene inwhichAliceissittingtherealonewithaglassofwhiskey;Waitingforherdaughterandthe jerktoappearwalkingdownthepathin
thedarknight.
From the threshold of the stairs, I eavesdrop, maybe I will heard Alice's computer keyboard; But there is a sepulchral silence throughout the house. Maybe she's gone, maybe she's still sleeping. I climb slowly up the stairs and stand in front of Alice's bedroom door.
Twothuds.Silence.
"Alice?"Iask.
Idecidetoopenthedoorslowlyandquietly.ThefirstthingIsee,isthedeskinfrontofthe windowwithAlice'slaptop.She’snothere.Iopenthedooralittlemoreandlooktotheright wherethebedis.IwouldhavepreferredtohavestayedwithIsabella,aslongasIdidnotsee that son of a bitch Angelo sleeping next to Alice. A fury I did not know it existed until then takes over me. I close the door trying not to slam it and just when I lean on it with my fists closed,itopensandIfalltothefloor.
"Mark?"Aliceasks,hervoicehoarseandstillsleepy.
"What'shedoinginyourbed?"
IgetupwiththehelpofAlice,whoshrugsandsmilesamused.
"Where'sAmy?"
"He'sstayingwithAlessandro."
"I...I'mgoingtothebathroom."
"Wait."
"What?"
Alice'seyeswiden.
"Youknowit?Isthat,no?Sheputsherhandstothemouthandcomesbacktome.
"What?"
"Youdon’t?"
"Idon´tgetit."
Shefrowns,lookinguncomfortableandconfused.
"Imean""Sheswallows,touchherhairnervouslyandforcesahalfsmile.You'veentered theroomandyou'veseen..."
"Angelo,yes.OfcourseI'veseenhim"Iinterrupt,tryingnottobetoohurt.Whatthehell!I havenorighttofeelhurt;Thereisabsolutelynothingbetweenthetwoandafewhoursagoit wasmewhowasmakinglovetoIsabella.Ican´tblameherorbeangryaboutit.
"You know? I have decided not to waste my life anymore" she begins to say calmly. "It doesn´t matter if I look like a teenage jerk with twisted hormones at my forties. It doesn´t matter.Iwanttolive.IwanttohavefunandwithAngeloIhaveagoodtime.Beforeyousay anything...No!Iwillnotfallinlovewithhim."