Page 18 of Nantucket Reflections
“I need to find the real CAT,” Julia said. “Otherwise, my publishing house might go under. And don’t you think the public deserves to know the truth about Lucia?”
“I don’t know what the public deserves to know,” Gregor said. “CAT herself never wanted to come out publicly with her name, until now, if Lucia is to be believed.”
“But the arrogance she showed at the book launch was incredibly strange,” Charlie pointed out.
“It doesn’t seem like CAT at all,” Gregor agreed. “But that’s the thing about the artists behind our favorite works. We don’t really know them. We can only know a fraction of what they let us see, and even then, we project our own ideas onto it.”
Julia grimaced. “You’re saying that it could be Lucia?”
Gregor laughed. “I’m saying there’s so much you’ll never know.”
Julia wasn’t in the mood to laugh. A part of her had assumed she’d meet with Gregor, have a few Parisian picnics, and return to the United States to press charges against Lucia. But she understood that this journey was a far longer one than she’d planned for.
She asked Gregor about the speculation that CAT was originally from Positano, and he confirmed that that was the general thought behind it.
“Should we go there?” she asked, furrowing her brow. “Should we trace CAT’s story back to her origins?”
Gregor’s smile was delicious. “Doesn’t it sound exciting?” he asked. “You’re like detectives.”
Julia and Charlie laughed and touched hands under the table.
Later, after they left Gregor and the rain cleared, they walked to the Seine, sat on a dry bench, and ate a delicious baguette slathered with soft cheese. They watched the boats crawl past and engaged with the lush and glowing surroundings. Julia’s head was stuffed full of questions, but she tried to force herself to be like the teenager who’d moved to Manhattan with Charlie so long ago. She wanted him to feel the passion and the life she’d once had. She didn’t want him to feel her fear.
But unfortunately, or fortunately, Charlie knew her better than that. He touched her hand and said, “It’s going to be okay, Julia. No matter what.”
Julia wanted to believe him. But she was so apprehensive about what would happen next.
ChapterTen
June 2020
Positano, Italy
It had been three months since COVID-19 closed down the world, and Italy was in the midst of a health crisis unlike anything Alessandra had ever seen. More than one family friend had passed away, leaving Federico, Alessandra, their parents, and their siblings in a state of shock and fear. Nobody truly understood the virus yet, not how it was transmitted, where it had originated, or what would happen next. Alessandra’s parents had come to live with them, taking the guest bedroom and driving Alessandra and Federico crazy with their worries. They never turned off the news, not even when Alessandra had a headache, not even when Elena grew too frightened to watch it. It was like they were feeding off the misery.
Of course, June was meant to be the beginning of the most lucrative tourist season, and now that the tourists couldn’t travel, couldn’t dine at the many restaurants, couldn’t sleep in the expensive hotels, and couldn’t shop at the many shops, the entire city of Positano struggled. There were protests and letters written to the government, begging for help. Alessandra felt fear permeating from her beautiful home, as people ached to understand when this nightmare would be over and if they’d be able to feed their families. Of course, fear of the virus was the worst of all.
By this time, CAT had been a famous muralist for nearly five years, which felt incredible to Alessandra. Since the Tokyo incident, when CAT had finally been paid for her work, Alessandra and Federico had taken on more paid gigs, painting murals everywhere from Rome to Berlin to London. There had been an invitation to paint one in Manhattan that they’d had to refuse due to the pandemic. A few people were worried about CAT because they knew she was Italian and, therefore, were frightened about her status in one of the countries most heavily affected by the pandemic. Some people said she might be dead.
But because of these well-paid murals, Alessandra and Federico were a lot better off than every other person they knew in Positano (which to them was the world). It meant that buying groceries and paying their mortgage was no issue. It meant that while other people cried about the economy, they sat quietly, empathetically, yet grateful, internally, that they didn’t have to deal with all that.
It didn’t take long for people to smell a rat. Of course, it was Alessandra’s mother who smelled it first, asking her why she seemed “so passive in all of this. Why aren’t you working harder to make more money? You could be painting coastlines and selling them on the internet.” To appease her mother, to get her off her back, Alessandra worked diligently on several paintings, rolling her eyes at Federico every time he passed her studio. A part of her yearned to use CAT’s money to buy a bigger house somewhere, maybe higher up in the mountains so that they could leave their place for her mother and father. They could drive themselves crazy all by themselves. But she knew that kind of behavior might attract the attention of the cops, an interest she didn’t want. It was necessary to maintain everything as it was for now.
Elena was almost thirteen, miraculously, and was just as curious and eager and creative as ever. For entire afternoons of solitude, Elena and Alessandra sat together, painting, creating, and discussing art. Sometimes Alessandra’s mother interjected, reminding Alessandra that she needed to instill in Elena a sense of moneymaking. “Tell her not to grow up to be like her mother and father,” she said.
Alessandra didn’t want to fight back or accuse her mother of being so cruel and rude, which generally felt outrageous, especially since Alessandra and Federico were giving her mother and father a roof over their heads. She also didn’t want Elena to learn that you could be so mean to your elders and get away with it. (This simply wasn’t Italian culture, a culture of supposed “respect.”) But when her mother came to her with a few bills that she and her father couldn’t pay, Alessandra couldn’t help but say, “How am I supposed to pay your bills if I’m just some silly artist who doesn’t know a thing about the world?”
Her mother’s face looked pinched. Very suddenly, she boiled over, telling Alessandra that she was “free childcare” for Elena, that she offered a unique “role model” for Elena, and they needed to come together as a family if they were going to make it through the pandemic. Alessandra regretted having said anything.
And then her mother said, “It looks like your little ‘career’ is dried up anyway.”
Alessandra was caught off guard and speechless. She raised her glass of red wine and shifted in her chair, assessing her mother. It was clear that she was hinting, yet again, that she knew what Alessandra was up to, that she knew about CAT.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Alessandra said.
“Don’t think I don’t know all about your illegal nights,” her mother said. “It’s wrong. I raised you differently.”
Alessandra felt it like a smack. Slowly, she stood, still gazing at her mother, and then said, “We’ll take care of your bills, Mama. We’ll always take care of you. And we’ll do it in any way we see fit. If you can’t stand that, you can go somewhere else.”
