CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN
Tonino's illness and death had, obviously and understandably, left Paolo a little chaotic and scattered. That could already be seen in his first wanting her back, then not wanting her back, then wanting her again, and finally saying “no,” all in one week.
She knew he needed time to get hold of himself. And also to see that she was no longer just a memory that was 3,000 miles away. She knew he would not refuse to see her. Even in his confused grief he was too kind to boycott her just to avoid dealing with her.
When Sally arrived in Rome, Paolo did not boycott her.
Sally did not have to seek out Paolo. He called her everyday. In fact, he wanted to be with Sally almost constantly. But he protected himself by always having Franca at his side. He presented Franca to Sally as if their coupling was an accomplished fact, without actually declaring that it was.
Paolo and Franca invited Sally out almost everywhere. But without Franca realizing it, Paolo retraced the steps of his and Sally's former life together. Paolo hardly ever took his sorrowful eyes off Sally. Franca, who was beginning to seem like a third wheel, never took her wary eyes off Paolo. It was hard to know what Franca was thinking since she hardly ever spoke. But she also never left Paolo alone with Sally. And Paolo never sought to be alone with Sally. Even when Paolo would drive Sally home, Franca would come with them, as Paolo accompanied Sally the few feet to the front door. Sally was starting to go crazy.
Now that she and Paolo were face to face, for Sally it was like falling in love all over again. Except this time it felt as if there were a glass wall between them. It seemed unnatural that he was standing there in front of her and not taking her in his arms, as always. Unnatural that they would sit across from each other in a restaurant and that he wouldn't softly cover her hand with his, as always. Unnatural that they were not talking freely about everything that came into their mind, as always.
Unnatural that they were not making joyful love, as always.
Sally was close to Paolo again, but he was far away.
She couldn't tell if Paolo wanted to be with her, but out of duty to Franca, couldn't be. Or whether he was trying to make it gently, yet absolutely, clear that from now on it was Paolo and Franca. Was he telling Sally that she could accept this, and be with them both as a friend? Or reject it and become an outsider?
Sally didn't want to push Paolo into a corner yet by asking him to explain the mixed messages and define the situation.
Because she loved him, she couldn't cause him more overt pressure and pain at this time. And in her heart she knew that she had caused this separation herself by leaving Rome. She almost felt that Paolo was slightly justified in not giving her an easy time of it. After all, she could not expect him to push his whole life aside now and just fall into her arms.
But the real reason she didn't push him was out of fear. If he actually said 'no'---whether he knew if he meant it or not---there would probably be no turning back. But if things were left vague, perhaps even in this short time, he would get used to her again, and realize he loved her after all.
He couldn't possibly love Franca, sweet and quiet as she was. Sally thought Franca must be either very stupid or very clever to let Paolo spend so much time together with her. Or Franca was just very good. That's what everyone said.
Whenever Sally was alone with one of Paolo's friends, once their mutual friends, the conversation was eerily the same:
“Ah, Sally! What a shame this all turned out to be. You loved each other so much....if only you had stayed...if only Tonino had been a healthy child...but what can you do? It's strange how different she is from you. But, yes, it's true, very true. She's such a good soul. And she is devoted to Paolo. Nothing is too much to ask her to do. Oh, she was wonderful when Tonino was sick. She nursed him so well. All through it. And when he died, Paolo couldn't have gone on without her. No, it's a pity. She's not the type of woman you are, but, well, she's a good soul.”
As the days went by, it got easier for Sally to believe that Franca truly was.
CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT
For some reason, Paolo decided to throw a big party for Sally. All of their mutual friends and all of Sally's friends were invited. Sally was thrilled by this encouraging gesture of affection. She knew things were gathering steam into whatever direction they were going to go.
The party was a huge success. She had not been to Paolo and Tonino's home since she had arrived back in Rome. That home where so much love and laughter and closeness had developed between the three of them.
Suddenly, Sally and Paolo found themselves alone for the first time, in the long corridor that ran between the rooms. Paolo immediately began talking to Sally about Tonino, as if starting in the middle of a conversation he had already been having with her. He spoke about Tonino alive, not dead. He seemed happy to be remembering him. He brought Sally up to date on Tonino's most recent “boy” activities, and on his stamps and his paintings.
“Tonino had started to paint a lot,” Paolo said. “Would you like to see some of what he did?”
“I really would,” Sally said.
No one saw Paolo open the door to Tonino's room, or he and Sally enter as he closed the door behind them. The room was almost as Sally had remembered it, and the sharp pain of a memory so strong that it became physical overtook her. She could no longer push away the fact that Tonino was not there and never would be again.
They were both quiet as Paolo walked around the room, straightened a few things, and picked up some of the boy's watercolor paintings. The pictures were very good for an eleven year old, and true to his heritage, they were mostly of Rome.
One of the best was of Ponte Milvio. This ancient bridge had carried victorious Roman armies over the Tiber River thousands of years ago. The bridge was still standing and was just around the corner from their apartment. It was second nature to the young Tonino to appreciate its beauty and history, even though automobiles crossed it now. Paolo and Sally discussed the painting almost as art critics, talking about light, form, and color. It was a way to hold on to their sanity.
The experience was becoming too powerful for them both, so Paolo gently opened the door and they left the quiet room. They were in a slight daze as they attempted to re-enter the noisy, smoky world of the party.
Franca saw them come out of the closed room. As Sally and Paolo dispersed among the guests, Franca found her way to Sally's side.
CHAPTER SIXTY NINE
“I want to thank you, “Franca told Sally. “This is the first time Paolo has been able to go into that locked room since Tonino died six months ago. And I think it was important for Paolo to go in there with you.”
Now Sally knew for sure. Franca truly was simple and good. Sally could not assume that Paolo wanted to leave her for someone as difficult and erratic as Sally saw herself. This realization totally reversed Sally's assumptions about Franca's relationship with Paolo, and sent her into an emotional tailspin.
Now, she could barely get through her own party. She was immune to the charm and affection of her friends. She didn't care that she was in Rome. Sally hadn't wanted to push Paolo into a corner, but now she felt she was in one. And she had to get out, once and for all.
---------
The next day Sally called Paolo at his office. She assumed Franca did not also accompany him to work everyday. “Hi,” she said when he took her call.
“Ah, Sally!” Paolo responded with enthusiasm.
“Listen,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”
“Of course. We can all have dinner tonight if you're free.”
“No. Alone. I need to talk to you alone.” Sally realized she was nearly hysterical.
“OK.....but I'm busy until.....,” Paolo said uneasily, as if he always suspected he would have to have this conversation at some time. Sally's composure was starting to break. It had all been too much for her. She had held too much in too tightly for too long.
“Now!” she said. “I need to t
alk to you now! Immediately. Can I come to your office?”
“Well, I ...” Paolo started to say.
“It will be short. One or two things. Five minutes,” she said firmly, changing to a clipped businesslike manner. Sally told herself she just wanted him to answer yes or no. Could they pick up where they left off? Or even start again? Yes or no.
“Sure,” Paolo said. “Why don't you come by in half an hour. I should have a few minutes then.”
“Fine.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Paolo had gotten a new job since she was gone. The Italian government, although constantly falling, bore no resemblance to Humpty-Dumpty because it kept putting itself back together again. And again and again.
This time the political musical chairs put Paolo in the Maritime Ministry where he ran the press information office. The large, ornate white marble building was very impressive with its long cool hallways and high ceilings.
Paolo's office was quite official looking, with tall windows, carpeting, a wide wooden desk, and two couches. Sally sat on one of the green couches, and was surprised to see that Paolo took the chair opposite, instead of by her side.
Paolo was nervous. This annoyed Sally. But her emotions were ricocheting off walls anyway, and this one got lost in the avalanche of all the others.
She felt love and longing. Desire and frustration. Anger. Shame that she had to ask him about what he should make clear. Fear that he would say no. And even fear that he would say yes, with its new set of problems.
Now that she was in his high-ranking office, she felt stupid that she had once misjudged his capabilities to put a life together. And then she felt even more stupid that she had once used his being out of work as a reason for her to return to America. It had not been a substantial reason. In fact, none of her previous reasoning and subsequent actions were substantial. They all had the strength and force of smoke. She knew in an instant that more than a year ago she made what was turning out to be a monumental mistake. A mistake she wanted desperately to erase, but didn’t seem able to.
Sally looked at Paolo and suddenly didn't know where to start. And she noticed that the usually glib, wise, suave, and devoted Paolo wasn't going to help her out. In fact, he looked like he wished she weren't there.
In spite of all Sally's good intentions, the tears started rolling down her cheeks. She had not even said anything yet. Paolo looked uneasily at his office door and got up and closed it. He was preparing for the worst. Sally tried to talk. By now she was really crying and wound up saying, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this. I'm sorry.”
“It's ok,” Paolo said in a way that Sally knew it was not. He looked at his watch. Sally breathed in and tried to stop. She managed to say something like, “I'll make this quick....”But then she had to blow her nose before she could talk.
She was trying to deny to herself that Paolo was being distant and cold--the Paolo that had wooed her intensely and adored her extravagantly, that had been with her intimately, sharing everything everyday for two years--was behaving like a discomforted stranger.
“I just want to know what happened,” Sally struggled. “Why did you change your mind? You don't really love Franca, do you? So, why can't we be together like before? “
“So, now you can talk about being together, now when it suits you,” Paolo said without emotion. “Where were you when I needed you? Where were you at the worst time of my life?”
“I know. I know. I was wrong and very stupid. I understand you feel I had deserted you. But it was never like that. Don't you remember we always said we would be back together again. But even though I have no right to ask, can't I be forgiven? Yes, I was away during the worst time for you. And worst times make for desperate choices. But you don't have to keep them. We can make a fresh start . Together, we can make it the way it was--the best time, again.”
“It's more complicated than that,” Paolo said.
“It's only complicated if you want it to be. It can be simple if you make it,” Sally said.
“That's very American,” Paolo said with a slight bit of scolding.
“Paolo, please,” Sally said. “The love we had together can't be gone. It's not gone, is it?
Now that we can have it again, why would you not let it be once more?”
For a moment, Paolo seemed helpless. He hesitated. “That’s just the way it is,” he finally answered. In typical Italian fashion, he was avoiding the logical response of cause and effect and going for fatalism instead, using a cosmic shrug as the wall through which no questions or answers could penetrate. “That’s just the way it is,” he repeated.
When finally confronted with this wall, Sally's hysteria broke through, and with it flooded a torrent of sobs, the ceaseless sobs of a child in pain who can't understand. The sobs of human disappointment from the beginning of time. Uncontrollable sobs, sobs that shook her whole body. Sobs that shuddered the still air with their sounds. Sobs that made Sally blind and deaf. She couldn't see Paolo or the room. Couldn't hear the city or the clock. Sobs that scared Paolo.
He moved over to the couch and tried to comfort her. It didn't work. For Sally it was as though he didn't exist, as if this pain was between her and herself. Her sobbing became so bad that she had trouble breathing. Paolo started to get a little angry.
“Stop it, Sally. Stop it. This is not necessary. You shouldn't do this. It doesn't become you. You're not this kind of person. My life has changed. You and I were once together and now we are not....But you are still important to me. We will always be friends. I promise.”
Like that, Sally thought. Over like that: “We were once together and now we are not.”
So simple. So clear. The chilling “...we will always be friends.” Love's death sentence. The sobbing made Sally sick and the words made Sally cold. No more “what if...” or “if only I could..” No more wrestling with shoulds and should nots. It was out of her hands. She had tried to take control of her life and now the life she really wanted was out of her control. “We were together and now we are not. We will always be friends....”
Oh, no we won't! Sally thought angrily to herself. But she looked at Paolo and saw that face, the face that had been before her eyes every moment for so long she couldn't remember when it wasn't there. How could she let that face go? She was his friend. That's what love was.
Sally shook her head in agreement as Paolo gave her his handkerchief and looked first at his watch and then at the office door. Sally knew she had to go. She was weak and in a daze. She would do anything anyone told her to do.
“Look, cara,” Paolo said softly, stroking her shoulder, “This is not a good place for this. Why don't you go home and make yourself more comfortable and I'll call you later, ok?”
“Ok,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE
Sally knew Paolo would never call again.
She didn't care. She didn't care about anything. Except getting back to the apartment that Marco and Elena always left cool, dark, and empty during the day. She would take a nap and then wake up in about an hour and start her new life. It would be ok.
She knew she would not...could not… fight for Paolo. Because of Tonino’s death, he wasn't even a whole person anymore, never mind a man who might love her again.
And didn't she deserve to lose him? She left him. Stunned him by walking away from him one fine day. Deserted him when he had no job and a dying child. Didn't she stay in New York longer than she said she would? Gone more than a year, leaving him alone with his terrible spring.
No, obviously not alone. Well, what did she expect? He had a right to do the best thing for himself in the life she left him in.
She did not miss the irony of how afraid she had once been that he would break her heart. Now she thought: I broke my own heart. He loved me and I left. And now it was all too complicated.
Sally managed to get to her room before the sobbing started again. And when she cried until it seemed there was no more, there was still more. Sh
e probably could have cried for the rest of her life, but she finally got tired of it and stopped. Her whole body was thoroughly exhausted. Sally must have been asleep for several hours when Elena woke her with a knock on the door.
“I'm sorry to disturb you, cara,” Elena said. She came in and sat beside Sally on the bed and stroked her swollen cheek, “but we were worried about you. Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Sally said, although she didn't know how she was. It was dark. Sally could smell the rich aroma of an Italian dinner cooking. The last thing she wanted to do now was eat.
“Paolo is on the phone,” Elena said. “It's the third time he called. He asked me to....wake you.” Sally knew Elena meant to say “to see that nothing was wrong.”
“Do you want to talk to him now?” Elena asked.
“Sure,” Sally said, without much interest. As Sally headed for the one phone in the living room, Marco met her in the hall and silently put his arms around her in a supportive hug.
“Ciao, Paolo,” Sally said wearily.
“Cara mia. I'm so sorry that you are so upset about all this. I did not expect that you would feel this way. You are so strong.”
Strong? Sally thought. Ah, yes, strong. They have been saying that for years. Sally always wondered what men really meant when they said that about her. It was usually said as a compliment, yet they seemed to think it was a good reason to make her do without them. If they wanted a partner in life, why wouldn't they want someone strong? Sometimes when they said Sally was strong, what they meant was that she wanted control. She did. But not over anyone else. Only over her own life. Why was this so bad? Except, that if she had control over her own life, it meant that they didn't control her. She guessed that was the problem.
Sally wasn't in any condition to have a real conversation, so she just told Paolo, “I'm alright.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Paolo hesitated. “Listen, I know this may be the wrong time to ask you, but I thought, before you go back to New York, well, I don't know if you want to, but maybe...sometime...you'd like to go with us to....the cemetery.” Sally almost laughed. Paolo continued.
“I mean, you and Tonino were so.....Well, I just thought it might be important to you.”
“I'm leaving Friday,” Sally said.