Page 36 of Tangling Hearts

He hits me in the ribs and takes the wind out of me, just like he used to do when we were nine. I grunt and smack him and he laughs and jumps back, crying out, “I was asking to make you jealous. You never learn!”

“Learn what?” But he doesn’t answer as he walks off, almost waddling with his size. I frown and pay the girl. “Grazie.”

“Prego!” she says, a shy smile peeking up at me. To the right her mamma sits on a short wooden stool, watching with a proud eye. I nod to her and she to me, before I turn and follow my friend.

“Francis! Wait! How you can move so fast with those extra pounds, I’ll never know!”

He guffaws and calls over his shoulder, “My years of running from lawyers!”

A few feet before I catch up to him, my phone rings, vibrating in my pocket. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have heard the sound over to the afternoon market chatter. I step left to avoid a collision with an old woman wearing a shawl over her head to protect her from the sun.

Annie’s name and photo shine up at me, and I quickly slide to answer. “Bella.”

“Christiano, I’m so sorry I haven’t called earlier.” Her voice is quiet.

She’s speaking in English and for a moment I consider answering her in Italian, but decide against it. “You are calling now. How are you? What has happened with…”

She cuts me off, urgently whispering, “I’m fine. The bar is getting remodeled. We open on Sunday. We’ll be open during construction.”

I look at the dirt rifled with small patches of green weeds beneath my shoes. “That is good. I am glad to hear… No, I am glad to hear your voice. That is what I am glad for. I need to see you, Bella. I want to go there.”

She doesn’t answer at first, then, “Christiano, don’t. I need to tell you something. I’m staying here. For good.”

My blood slows as I wait for more. Francis walks to me, his eyes meeting mine. I shake my head to tell him this is important, not to interrupt. “What has happened that has made you so sure?” She doesn’t answer me. Scowling, I wait, with Francis standing close by. I can feel his support. “Annie! No more silences! I deserve more!”

She starts to cry, and instantly my feelings layer. I want to apologize, and I want to yell. The two are at war, and both are justified.

She chokes out on a sob, “I met someone.”

The market spins around me like a tornado. My fingers whiten around the phone and I pull it away from my ear, staring at it like I don’t understand what it is, or how it could bring so much pain. I bring it back to my ear to hear her say, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“You met someone already who is important enough that you say this to me?”

I wait for her to speak, and little sobs are the only thing I hear. “I’m so sorry, Christiano. I should have told you sooner…”

“What do you mean? How long has this been going on? Bella! Answer me!”

“It’s complicated. I don’t have time to talk right now.”

“I will not accept this.” Hanging up the phone without hearing another word, I look around a collapsed world. Everything looks out of place, twisted by my disorientation. My heart feels like it might explode with pain.

Francis grabs my shoulder, puts his arm around it, and makes my feet walk by guiding me out of the market like this. He lets me go after we’ve cleared away from the crowd. In English he asks, “Why don’t we get blind stinking drunk?”

I say nothing. He pats my back, and we walk silently side by side to his car parked nearby. We spend the afternoon drinking half of the town dry, until Benito, the owner of the bar that employed my Annie for over three years, offers to drive us home. We stumble into his van. As Francis snores between us in the bench seat, I ask Benito, “You knew her well. What should I do?”

He thinks about it and turns the wheel. “That girl loves you. She talked about you all the time. Every night she worked, I had to ask her to shut up about you.”

“You are lying.”

He laughs. “I may be stretching. It was every other night. But Christiano, why are you asking me?” He slows down in front of my gated driveway. Shifting in his chair, he looks at sleeping Francis and then to me. “You want her? Go get her!”

Francis wakes up and looks around, wiping away a bit of drool. “We’re here already?”

“We used a time machine,” Benito dryly says. Francis rolls his eyes and body out of the van, following me to the keypad. Benito rolls down his window and yells, “He can’t mean much to her. She’s confused. You know Annie; she’s just a baby. Go get her!”

I wave him away, slowly pressing in the code. I can only focus on one thing at once. As I straighten my spine to argue, I look to see the taillights turning way down the road.

Francis passes out in one of my guest rooms, and I stumble to my own bed.

I met someone.

I’m sorry.

Before the alcohol takes away my consciousness, I make a decision.

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