Page 101 of His Two Hidden Masks

22

Itexted Roberto to meet in Campo Polo. We sat beside each other on a bench next to the San Polo church where we’d almost married.

Crowds of costumed tourists passed us in packs. Roberto held a cigarette. He gave up smoking years before, but still smoked in times of stress.

“Did you use the key?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

He exhaled a puff of smoke into the cold, afternoon air.

“I remembered you being with us during a summer vacation. You, Sara, and I went to the Lido.” I wasn’t ready to share my memory of Sara’s diary and our secret hiding place. “I did find something I wanted to show you.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Murano heart necklace. I held it in the air.

Roberto appeared lost in thought as he reached out and touched the glass with his fingertips. “I gave it to her that last summer. It was the summer she turned eighteen.”

“I knew you did,” I said. “Well, I didn’t know, but I guessed. She wore it for her portrait, the one that you insisted Papa hangin the lobby. I understand now, why it was important to you both.”

“I know. I look at it every time I walk past her in the lobby.”

“How have you kept this secret for so long, Roberto? Why did you do this to yourself?”

“What I knew about Sara’s death wasn’t mine to share. I couldn’t let anyone know my true feelings about her. It was too raw. And grief can make a person do crazy things,” he said.

“I just left my sister’s bedroom, which is a shrine. I believe you.”

Roberto smiled and nodded at the necklace. “Hold it up to the light. Look inside.”

The heart caught a beam of sunlight. Inside the glass, I saw faint, white letters etched inside the glass.

“R and S,” I said.

“Our initials. I paid extra for that. We were so young, so naive.”

“You loved her.”

“I will love her forever, Bella.” His thin smile melted into a stony stare that reminded me of the Roberto I knew. The grief Roberto held in secret all those years was, in fact, engraved on his face for all the world to see.

Young Roberto had been so in love, so full of hope. Losing my sister and focusing his energy on revenge warped him. I hoped that one day he could find the boy inside himself again.

“For years, I was lost,” he said. “Sara died, and it was like the light disappeared from the world. When I met you, some of that light came back. And I wanted to tell you, but I knew that if I told you the truth, I would lose you. You need to know that the love I felt for you was real, too.”

“I know,” I said, taking his hand. “I think you believed it was real, but Roberto, how could it have been? You were still in lovewith her. I always had the feeling something was wrong. Maybe there was a ghost in the room with us.”

“I bet you never expected it to be your sister.”

“No, no, I did not,” I said, managing a smile. “It wasn’t wrong of you to keep loving her. You need to stop feeling bad about that.”

Roberto nodded. “All right, I will stop feeling bad about my past if you stop torturing yourself for leaving me at the altar.”

“Deal.” I squeezed his hand. We sat beside each other, after sharing our disappointment in each other without apology, without lying. We finally told our truth.

“Roberto, is there really a tape of Dylan and me from the Lido Glass Factory?”

Roberto inhaled through his teeth. “There was.”

“And?”

“Dante had it,” Roberto said. “He showed it to me.”

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