Page 8 of The Consequence of You
“Callie, your grades are excellent. I’m very proud of you. Your mother would be so proud,too.” Papa’s words sound genuine, but it makes the hollowness in my chest feel even more pronounced. He’s never outwardly said anything that indicates he blames me for what happened in the past, but how could he not? His whole life changed on that night four years ago, and no amount of pretending otherwise would diminish that fact. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get back to celebrate with you. What do you have planned?”
I have no intention of attending any of the numerous parties going on tonight and deep down, my father already knows that, but he asks anyway.
“Just a quiet night for me. I had lunch with Dahlia and her family, and I’m a little tired.” As I hear my words, I inwardly cringe. How many nineteen-year-olds spend the night at home after receiving their final exam results? Papa doesn't call me out on it, though; he’s happy to let me be.
I think back to the night Luca got his A-level results. He went out with his friends and got so drunk he could barely stand. Rossi had to pick him up from one of our father’s bars in the city after the manager called Papa. Not long after that, he was sent to live in Italy with our uncle. Like Papa, Luca has never come out and referenced my part in what happened, but I still feel it in the undercurrent of every single moment we have lived and breathed as a family since.
My phone pings with a notification of a message from Luca, but I know he won’t call me, and I can tell without even looking that his message will only be a few lines long. The few he has sent me over the years are only ever short and to the point. I don’t dwell on it. It’s no more than I deserve.
As I end the call with my father, I try to shake off the darkness that creeps into everything I do. I don’t give in toit. That’s not what my mother would have wanted, but it's harder on milestone days like today.
“Cemetery now, Miss Callie?” I nod at Rossi as he holds out my coat. He knows my routine as well as I do. I visit my mother's grave every other Sunday morning, but I always make an extra visit on days like these.
Theoretically, Rossi’s role includes driving me around if I need him to, but mostly, I prefer to drive myself. Visiting the cemetery is the one exception to that.
Rossi pulls up outside the front of the house in one of my father’s cars and I climb into the back seat. Like always, he takes the same route we took on the day of Mama’s funeral. Sitting in silence, I stare out of the window, thinking of her last day, reliving each moment. Is it healthy to keep going over it? The grief counsellor told me enough times it’s not, but I don’t care. I do it because it feels like a penance. A penance I will continue to pay, despite knowing it won't make a damned bit of difference.
Light rain hits the windscreen, and the car wipers come on automatically. Rossi drives carefully, taking it slowly. Eventually, he passes through the tall steel gates and into the cemetery. He parks up, and as always, he comes around to open my door. I thank him and get out of the car. He holds out an umbrella, but I shake my head. I want to feel everything. Every single uncomfortable thing.
As I slowly walk down the long path to her plot, the rain falls heavier. I blink away the droplets as they land on my eyelashes. Finally, I reach her grave and kneel. The grass is wet, and I feel it soaking through the knees of my tights.
A beautiful grey marble headstone with silver engraving marks her grave.
Liliana Messina
Beloved wife of Tommaso
Beloved mother of Luca and Calliope
20/07/1982 - 01/01/2021
Memento Mori
Before leaving the house, I’d taken one of the white lilies from the flowers Rossi gave me. Placing it on the ground above her last resting place, I whisper my news. As always, I wait for some sign or response, but there is nothing. I don’t hear her voice. I don’t hear a message from God. I’m not comforted by the faith our family practised throughout my childhood. I feel her loss as acutely as the day it happened. It's what I deserve. A sob hitches in my throat.
Without turning around, I know Rossi is waiting under one of the large oak trees by the car. It doesn’t matter how often I tell him to wait in the car; he stands outside, the umbrella remaining closed at his side, no matter how heavy the rain falls.
I don’t know if he reports this ritual back to my father. I don’t know what goes through his mind as he stands watching. But I’m grateful for his presence. I thank him quietly as I slide into the back seat, and he nods like always, before pulling away.
CHAPTER SIX
CALLIE
“Just sign here.” Scrawling my name, I pass the registration form back to the receptionist and sigh. I prefer my old gym, but things have been a little awkward with Henry since I last saw him, so I decided to sign up at the university gym on campus. Now the new semester has started and I’m attending daily lectures, it’s more convenient anyway. The facilities are top of the range, because nothing short of excellent is good enough for most of the students here, but it’s the members who I’m a little wary of. Because it’s part of the campus, it’s far more of a social venue than my old gym. The students use it to meet friends, hang out and scope for dates, whereas I just want to work out and attend a few exercise classes.
I turn up the volume of my headphones and head into the room where the Yoga class starts in a few minutes. There is a group of girls already stretching. They’rechattering away amongst themselves. I recognise Simona and Kylie from my year group at the academy but there are several others who aren’t familiar.
The entirety of one side of the room is a glass wall separating it from the main gym floor. The girls are showing off in front of a group of guys who are lifting weights on the other side. The guys are flexing their muscles, and the girls warm up conveniently requires them to bend over in front of them.
Finding a spot at the back of the room, I roll out my mat and switch my music to something more relaxing to prepare for the class. Bowing my head, I close my eyes and get into the lotus position.
After a couple of minutes, I sense my neighbour settling down on their mat. I stiffen when I smell a familiar expensive aftershave.It’s not him. Despite never having met any of them, I’m sure plenty of other people wear that scent. Reassured and keeping my eyes shut, I shake out my shoulders, loosening the tension in my limbs while I wait.
The lights dim, and I remove my headphones as the instructor turns on her own music and greets us.
“Namaste.”
The class murmursNamastein response, except for the person next to me who responds loudly and clearly, and there is absolutely no mistaking who it is.
