The Last Promise (32 page)

Now trembling, she put the phone back in its cradle. She looked down. There was blood all over the receiver. She looked at her hand; it was red.

She struggled to her feet, went to the sink and lowered her face into a stream of cool water, washing it with her hands. She felt dizzy, as if she had left her body. Suddenly she saw spots, black and white flashes. She felt the nausea of a migraine rise up in her stomach and chest. For several minutes she stood motionless, leaning against the sink. Then she went to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet. The pressure in her head continued to rise, moving up into her temples. The light of the room made her head ache, and she shielded her eyes with her hands. She went to her bedroom and drew the curtains, then curled up on top of the bed, holding a sheet over her head. She didn’t move for three hours, until the phone rang. It rang nearly a dozen times before she answered it.

“Eliana, it is Anna.”

“Anna,” she said slowly.

“What is wrong?”

“I have a horrible migraine.” She suddenly began to cry.

“My poor dear. Is it that bad?”

“Anna . . .”

“Anna, Maurizio has taken Alessio from me.”

“Finally, he’s gone mad. Where has he taken him?”

“I don’t know.”

“What caused this?”

“It’s my fault, Anna. I went to Ross. We were together all night. Maurizio was waiting for me when I came home.”

“
Mamma mia. Mamma mia.
I will take the next train home.” She shouted away from the phone, “Andrea, get my bags from the bedroom.” She came back to Eliana.
“Sarò lì in un batter d’occhio,”
she said.
I’ll be there in a blink of an eye.

 

Andrea drove Anna to Parco Principi Station, smothering her with kisses until she boarded the train, which carried her from Genoa through Pisa then into Florence’s Campo di Marte. She arrived at Rendola just a few minutes past midnight. She let herself into Eliana’s apartment, turned on the foyer light and called for Eliana. She saw the spattered blood on the tile floor and gasped. She hurried upstairs to Eliana’s bedroom. Eliana lay on the bed. A towel was draped over her head.

“My poor baby,” she said, rushing into the room. She knelt by the side of the bed and kissed her then lay close against her. “What did he do to you?”

“Anna. Will you call Manuela’s house and see if Alessio’s there? Vittorio wouldn’t tell me.”

“Of course, dear.”

Anna went downstairs and called Vittorio. It was a moment before he could understand the angry woman on the other end of the phone. Again he refused to divulge Manuela’s whereabouts. Anna lit into him, rattling off a string of Italian curses like strafe from a machine gun. “Don’t bother to show your putrid face at Rendola again!” she screamed. “You are off the payroll. I’ll burn in hell before I pay you another lire.”

She slammed the phone down hard enough to crack the cradle. Then she went back upstairs to the bedroom, where she became gentle again.

“Did he say where?”

“No. The baboon.”

She sat down next to Eliana on the bed and began rubbing her neck, working her hands up to her head and temples. “Alessio will be okay. Manuela will take care of him until Maurizio comes to his senses.”

“What have I done, Anna?”

Anna touched her finger to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t think about it. Not now, baby. Just go to sleep.”

Anna lay next to her all night. The next morning she left Eliana in bed asleep, the room still dim, with its shutters closed against the morning sun. She heard someone outside and her ire rose as she prepared to meet Maurizio, but it was only Luca crossing through the courtyard. Anna made herself coffee then checked on Eliana. She was still asleep. The phone rang around eleven. Anna answered it.

“Chi parla?” Who speaks?
a male voice asked.

“This is Anna. Who is this?”

“Excuse me, Anna, I didn’t recognize your voice. This is Ross. Is Eliana there?”

“She is here, Ross, but she cannot speak. She is not well.”

“What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “Ross, things have happened. Bad things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Eliana should speak of these things, not me.”

“Should I come to Rendola?”

“No. You must not. She will call you when she is ready.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing but pray. I’ll have her call you.”

She hung up. She didn’t tell Eliana about the call. She needed her rest.

 

It was two days before Maurizio returned. Eliana had only left her bed twice during that time, once when Anna had coaxed her out for a dinner of soup and another time for a hot bath. Eliana was in bed when he came and the fighting began, Anna screaming at the top of her lungs and Maurizio uncharacteristically reciprocating, the voices combining into a tangle of Italian that became as incomprehensible as thunder. The storm grew and climbed the stairs to her darkened room. There was a scuffle outside the door; then it was suddenly flung open. Maurizio stepped inside.

“I need to talk to you, Eliana.”

“Get out,” Anna shouted, grabbing him. “You leave her alone.”

“Eliana, if you want to see Alessio ever again, get her out of here.”

“Anna,” she said feebly. “Maurizio and I need to talk.”

“Eliana, you are too weak.”

“I have to, Anna.”

Anna stepped in front of Maurizio, making her five-foot frame appear as threatening as she could. “I swear on our father’s grave, if you touch her again you’ll regret you were born.” She bit her knuckle at him, then turned and walked out.

Maurizio pushed the door shut behind her. Eliana was a dark cluster of blankets in the room’s dim light. He flipped on the light switch.

“Please don’t, the light hurts.”

He left it on. His voice was controlled, almost cordial. “Why are you still here? I told you to go.”

“Please, Maurizio. Bring Alessio back. For Alessio’s sake. You don’t know how sick he is.”

“Not so sick that you couldn’t leave him for your American.”

She didn’t answer. Then, seized with guilt and fear, her emotion took hold and she began to sob. Maurizio stood at the foot of the bed staring at her. When she finally stopped, she lay on her side trembling, looking up at him with dull eyes.

“Please don’t make me go. I’ll do anything you ask, Maurizio. Just let me have Alessio back.”

He said nothing.

“I won’t see him anymore. I promise.”

“You said this before; why should I believe you?”

She didn’t know how to answer. Maurizio walked across the room and opened a shutter. The light broke into the room like a hammer. Eliana shielded her eyes.

“Where does your friend live?”

“Why?” she asked fearfully.

Her concern for Ross angered Maurizio. He started to walk to the door.

“Lungarno Torrigiani. There’s an apartment building. It looks out over the Arno.”

“What building?”

“I don’t know.”

He grasped the door handle.

“I’m telling you the truth, I don’t know. It’s the second one from Ponte Alle Grazie. It’s a pale yellow color.”

“What number is his room?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.” Her voice trailed off into silence.

For a few moments, Maurizio just stared at her. When he spoke again his voice was only slightly stronger than a whisper. “You want another chance? I will give you another chance, Eliana, even though you do not deserve it. But be wise. I will not trust you again.” He put a finger below his eye and pulled his eyelid down. “Rendola has eyes. And if he, or anyone else, ever turns your head again, you will lose Alessio for good.”

Maurizio turned and walked out the door.

 

Anna was waiting for Maurizio in the courtyard. Maurizio glanced at her scornfully and turned away, headed for the gate. “I have nothing to say to you.”

She followed him. “You swine. How dare you do this to her.”

“You have misplaced loyalties, sister.”

“What do you know of loyalty? The word should catch fire on your lips.”

“After your husband dumped you, I really thought you’d be more understanding to my plight. I didn’t see you getting sentimental over his new woman. Eliana’s no different, just another adulteress.”

He stopped at his car. “No, I’m a man.”

“You’re a swine.”

He shook his head in disgust as he unlocked his car.

“How can you do this to Alessio?”

“I’m doing what’s best for my son.”

“
Bugiardo!
If you cared about what was best for your son, you’d have never brought him into this. You just use him to control Eliana. You don’t love him at all.”

He shook his head, though still smiling.

“I don’t know what is more tragic, brother, that you don’t love your son, or that he doesn’t love you.”

Maurizio flinched.

“Oh yes. If you never came home, Alessio wouldn’t think twice. Your own son doesn’t give a damn about you. Someday you’ll figure it out. I pity you on that day.”

Maurizio didn’t know what to say. He climbed into his car and sped away from Rendola.

Anna ran back inside to check on Eliana. She found Eliana on her feet getting dressed.

“What are you doing?”

“Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“I need to go. There’s something I must do.”

“Eliana, you can’t go out. You’re not well. This is crazy.”

“It is all crazy, Anna.”

“Then let me drive you.”

“No. I need to do this alone.” She kissed her cheeks. “I will be back soon. I will need you then.”

—Ross Story’s diary

 

 

 

 

 

E
liana drove slowly up the snaking, tree-lined street to Piazzale Michelangelo. As the hill peaked, the large, oxidized replica of David in the center of the piazza came into view, flanked by myriad tourists. She turned into the square and parked her car on the end of a long row of tourist buses.

The piazza was crowded, was always crowded. It was the one place where the whole view of Florence could be taken in. Visible in the distance were the three towers; Badia, Giotto’s and Bargello which, next to the baptistry, flanked the Duomo. There were other domes, other towers. The Basilica of Santa Croce, Arnolfo’s tower, the belfry of Palazzo Vecchio near the Uffizi, overlooking the Arno, where Eliana had fallen heart and soul for Ross, as if the river had delivered life and love itself, the two intermingled. The river would forever mean something else to her. It would serve to remind her of her incompleteness. The Arno might as well cease to be, or be diverted to a more useful realm as Leonardo and Machiavelli had once schemed.

It had been days since Ross had spoken with Anna, and from that moment on he had waited helplessly for Eliana’s call. When her call did come, she explained nothing to Ross though her voice frightened him. He knew something had gone very wrong.

Eliana looked around for Ross through the throngs of tourists and frowned at their number. She had thought that being amid the crowds would somehow make it easier, but now she regretted choosing this place. Now she only wanted to be alone with him. She wanted to leave this city, this world, for his arms, even if just for a few minutes.

She found him standing in the back of the
piazzale
, in the northwest corner where the great, wide railing angled back toward the main street she had ascended. And then she saw nothing else: the towers, the lights, the centuries of labor and humanity’s cleverness blurred into insignificance against this one miracle. He was wearing a black body shirt. Her gold florin necklace was draped over the front of his shirt and was bright against its dark fabric.

The thought of what she had come to do sickened her.

Just then two attractive young Italian women stopped by him, spoke to him. From their body language she could see that they were flirting with Ross and she felt jealous. She wondered how it was that she felt entitled to jealousy. He wasn’t hers. He never would be.

The women smiled and laughed and Eliana hated them. Ross spoke back but shook his head, raised his hands in refusal. One of them wrote something on a card and handed it to Ross; then they left, laughing and chatting with one other. Ross watched them go then dropped the card over the side of the fence. He checked his watch again. He looked out over the plaza then back out over the city.

She was equally desirous to run to him and to run away from her horrible errand. Then the reality of her predicament, their predicament, flooded back into her mind and she slowly climbed out of her car, her legs and courage growing weaker as she neared him. When she was within twenty feet of him, he noticed her.