Page 32 of Nantucket Reflections
“Sophia, I would never do you wrong,” he told her. “I promise you. I will protect your granddaughter’s artwork, just as I protect all people’s artwork. It’s my job.”
Sophia looked uncertain and off-balance, but eventually, she understood that Gregor wanted to give her granddaughter a leg up, and her smile brightened. She poured them more glasses of wine, promising them beautiful days in Positano. “It’s so wonderful to meet new friends,” she told them. “We’ve been so lonely the past few years.”
Julia couldn’t fathom how they could be lonely, not with thirty or so of their dearest friends and family living close by. But it didn’t feel like the right time to ask.
ChapterSeventeen
Late February 2021
New York City
The minute the plane landed at JFK Airport, Alessandra turned on her phone to an onslaught of messages from her mother. The messages ranged from emotions of anger to sorrow to fear to love and seemed to echo the bizarre nature of their relationship. Most of all, Alessandra knew the reason her mother texted so incessantly was that she wanted Alessandra to keep her secret safe, a secret that she felt would ruin her if it got out. It was why Alessandra’s mother had gone to the doctor’s office alone, why she’d been so upset when Alessandra had discovered her there.
The truth was, Alessandra’s mother, Sophia, had cancer, and just like Alessandra, Sophia was keeping it a secret from Marius, her father, along with the rest of the family. It was because, she said, she didn’t want to worry her husband, her love. “He has enough going on right now,” Sophia had said in the parking lot outside the clinic, sobbing into Alessandra’s shoulder. “He’s been so upset since COVID, since we lost so many of our friends. And of course, we were so worried about you, Alessandra, for so many years. We thought we were going to lose you, too.”
At that moment, Alessandra had considered telling her mother that she, too, was hiding her cancer diagnosis, that she was basically on the verge of death. But she didn’t want to overcomplicate things.
What she thought instead, even now on the plane, wasI am my mother’s daughter.
It was funny, in a way. She was protecting her mother, who was protecting her father. How far back did this all go? Was Elena protecting Alessandra from something? Alessandra guessed she probably was, in her small, teenage way. She’d probably done some things she wasn’t entirely proud of. She’d probably been cruel to another child, or snuck out when she shouldn’t have, or broken one of Alessandra and Federico’s rules (not that Alessandra could remember any of the rules she’d set for Elena right now).
It was a child’s duty to try to make their parents’ lives a little less harsh than they had to be, maybe. But everyone got it so very wrong.
Standing in line for customs, Alessandra got another string of messages from her mother.
MOM: I don’t know why you have to go all over the world right now. I need you here.
Here came the guilt trips. Alessandra took a staggered breath and then encountered another jolt of fear. Although her mother’s cancer was definitely treatable—stage two—she understood how frightened her mother was. She’d thought she was going to have to do it alone. But now that Alessandra knew about it, she could accompany her to appointments. She could hold her hand and coach her through the trauma of it all.
ALESSANDRA: I’ll be gone three days. I love you.
Alessandra went through customs and grabbed her bag full of mural-making supplies, then took a train into Brooklyn. It was six thirty and frigid, and she pulled her knitted hat low over her ears, conscious that every person on the train knew CAT and therefore knew her. She wanted to keep a low profile.
Alessandra checked into her Airbnb via a system that ensured she didn’t have to see or speak to anyone, one with a lockbox and a code that made her feel as though she belonged in New York City as much as any local. After that, she showered and rested for a while before heading into the night to walk around and eat some pizza. At a little corner shop with a slice of greasy New York-style pepperoni, she watched as a teenager and her mother bickered over how tight the teenager’s shirt was. Alessandra felt a bubble in her throat. All she wanted in the world was to spend forever fighting with Elena about her shirts. She knew that she and Sophia had had similar fights. Heck, it felt like they were fighting right now, like they’d spent all their lives fighting. Was that the way you were supposed to spend the little time you had?
Alessandra knew that her mother knew she was CAT. She knew that she didn’t approve and never would. But at the same time, she knew her secret was safe with her mother. For as long as Alessandra lived, and maybe long after, Sophia would protect her secret. It was a level of love and respect that went along with the bickering and the guilt trips. Family love never made any sense.
Alessandra decided to hole up with her supplies at a little dive bar not far from where she planned to paint her mural. There, nursing an IPA beer that was way too strong for her, she overheard Brooklyn locals talk about everything from the weather to local sports to relationships to films they hated or loved. Now that she knew she was dying, it felt as though she heard everything through a strange funnel, as though she could see how petty all human complaints were. She listened as, through the span of an hour and a half, a twenty-something couple broke up three times and got back together again. It felt like a performance.
It made her pang with loss, thinking about Federico. She knew it was wrong that she still hadn’t told him about the cancer, about her imminent death. It was the most selfish thing she’d ever done, maybe. Besides being CAT.
She began her mural a little after twelve thirty. The streets were dead, laughably so, making her thinkso much for the city that never sleeps! Even Positano felt more bustling than this at this hour, sometimes. But it was brilliantly timed, given how much work she had to do and how woozy she often felt due to the jet lag and the medication she was on. She drank coffee from a canister and worked tirelessly till four thirty in the morning, at which point she very quickly packed up her things and fled. Her eyes were so tired that everything ran together. But when she reached the Airbnb and peeled off her clothes and showered, she felt euphoric. She’d come to another continent all by herself and done what she loved.
It was six in the morning, and gray sunlight filtered through a thick ceiling of clouds. Over in Italy, it was noon, and Alessandra was wide awake despite not having slept at all since she left. She went online, searching for some sign of what CAT had done, but she knew it would be another hour or two till the news exploded. But what if it didn’t “explode”? What if nobody cared about her work any longer? Maybe there would be a little bit of relief within that. Perhaps it would help her move on.
Because she couldn’t sleep, Alessandra called her mother. Sophia answered on the second ring with a sob in her voice. “Why haven’t you called yet?”
“I’m calling now,” Alessandra pointed out.
“I texted you twenty-five times,” her mother said. “I’m so frightened, Alessandra. I don’t know how to manage any of this.” Implied in what she was saying was that she couldn’t believe Alessandra had ever managed it, that she’d spent years battling it.
“I know, Mama. But it’s going to be okay. We’re going to do this together,” Alessandra said, lying back on the pillows, her hand stretched across her stomach. She wished, in a way, that she could see the cancer in her body from the outside. But the arm and the hand that she saw looked exactly as they always had, if just a little bit older.
“Your father can’t handle it. He won’t be able to,” Sophia went on. “He’s too soft. When you were born, he fainted across the hospital room floor.”
Alessandra burst into giggles. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I’m telling you now. It was not pretty,” Sophia said.
