Page 173 of La Dolce Vita

“Yes. But you create life too. And you felt it when you met her. Didn’t you?”

He nodded in agreement.

“I think that’s what it was for our mothers. And if you were to ask either yours or mine the one thing in life they don’t regret, it would be giving birth to you and me,” she said.

Giovanni pondered it for a moment. He remembered many good times with his mother. Especially as a young boy. The way she would sing to him and hold him. The nights he was allowed to crawl into her bed whenPatriwas away. He had deep, cherished memories of their love.

Mirabella sighed. She looked back to the window instead of him. "I'm not a good person. A good person wouldn't have done what I did," she murmured.

“Don’t say that Bella. You made a mistake.”

“A mistake is forgetting to turn off the stove, or leaving your car lights on. What I did wasn’t a mistake. It was worse. And I have been so afraid to talk to you about it.”

“Why?” he asked. “Haven’t I proved to you that I love you.”

"Yes, Gio. Still..."

“What is it?”

She didn't answer. He knew the answer, but she needed to tell him. The entire story. Why would a woman like her, the girl in her he never met, why would she ever have an abortion?

“Don’t you have a cousin in America?” Mirabella asked.

Giovanni drove with one hand and nearly swerved from the lane when she switched gears on him. His wife had picked up on his skill. It was the ability to slip in and out of a conversation to control the narrative. It was her narrative, and she was in complete control. Being a man of power who shouldered the burden of using it on everything and everyone in his world it felt good to let his wife take the lead. Especially on a matter so sensitive to her and him, like the one regarding the past she never shared. He smiled the way a proud mentor would.

“Yes. His name is Henry. In the states, they call him the Wolf."

“Wolf? Really?” she asked. “Why?”

“A nickname. He lives in Pennsylvania now.”

“Really? That’s not too far. Maybe you should call him. He could come down and meet the kids?” she asked.

“I was thinking of doing that,” he said.

“Oh,” she mumbled. “Turn left up here. We’re going to take the highway.”

He sped through several lane changes to get them to the unknown. The radio played soft tunes to listen too. His looked relaxed but contemplative.

“You are a good wife Bella, a good mother, a good friend... and...”

“Gio? Can we make a deal?” she asked.

The strange thing was she did so while looking out of the passenger window and not him.

"Yes, Bella?"

“Tonight, we will talk, about everything, including my past. No more secrets.”

“Okay?” he said with a deep frown. “What’s the deal?”

“We go at my pace. We talk when I want to talk. You don’t push me. Can we make that deal?”

“We can make that deal.”

It was darker on the stretch of highway they traveled than the winding roads than on a stormy night in Chianti. After a ten-minute drive with Mirabella pointing out her old schools and houses of friends and family in the shadows beyond their window seats Giovanni grew tired of the little of tour. One thing was for certain he needed some relief to get the edgy, restless energy building up in him. And then the highway brought them directly onto a street. He had to reduce speed not to run the first street light. Many stores had lit signage, but were closed except for a McDonalds, and a Dairy Queen.

“Hey, That’s Heather’s Kitchen. Right there. Pull in,” she said. “Pull in!”

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