Page 150 of The Seven Sisters
‘It wasn’thisfault, it was mine,’ I said, brutal with the truth. ‘I didn’t trust him, didn’t trust in his love for me. And I’m sure now that if Ihadtold him, he would have been there for me, he would have . . .’ My voice trailed off to a whisper as fresh tears sprang to my eyes. ‘And I look at you and Valentina, in similar circumstances, and see how my life might have been now if I’d had the guts to be stronger, and think what a mess I’ve made of things so far.’
‘We all do things we regret, Maia,’ Floriano said sadly. ‘I wish every day that I’d been firmer with the doctors who told me to take my wife home from the hospital, when I knew instinctively that she was desperately ill. Perhaps if I had, my daughter would still have a mother, and I’d have a wife. But where does self-recrimination get us?’ he sighed. ‘Nowhere.’
‘But to give up my child, especially when the reasons were purely selfish and not motivated by poverty or war, has to be the worst crime of all,’ I stated.
‘Each of us thinks that our own mistake is the worst, becausewehave made it. We all live with guilt for our actions, Maia. Especially if we have chosen to keep them inside us for as long as you have. I’m sitting here feeling only sadness for you, not disapproval. And I really think that anyone else who heard your story would feel the same. It’s only you who blames yourself. Can’t you see that?’
‘I suppose so, but what can I do about it?’
‘Forgive yourself. It’s really as simple as that. Until you do, you won’t be able to move on. I know. I’ve been there.’
‘Every day I think about where my son might be, whether he’s happy and if the parents he went to are loving him. I sometimes hear him crying for me in my dreams, but I can never find him . . .’
‘I understand, but remember that you too are adopted,querida. Do you think you have suffered because of it?’ Floriano asked me.
‘No, because I haven’t known any other life.’
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘You’ve just answered your own question. You’ve told me once before that you didn’t think it mattered who brought up a child, as long as it was loved. It will be the same for your son, wherever he is. I’d wager that the only person truly suffering because of all this is you. Now, I think I could do with a brandy.’ He released himself from around me and went to a narrow shelf to retrieve a bottle. ‘Want some?’ he asked me as he poured a small amount into a glass.
‘No thanks.’ I watched him as he wandered across the terrace to light a cigarette and stood there looking out into the darkness. Eventually, feeling vulnerable and insecure, I went to join him.
‘You do realise,’ he said eventually, ‘that all this revelation about your own heritage has made you think even more about your son?’
‘Yes,’ I acknowledged. ‘After all, Pa Salt has allowed all of his adopted girls to discover their origins if they wish. Surely my child has a right to discover his too?’
‘Or at least a right tochooseif he wishes to,’ Floriano corrected me. ‘You said yourself you were reticent about digging into your background. And besides, you were told from the start that you were all adopted. Perhaps your son hasn’t been given that information. It’s entirely possible that he is unaware.’
‘I just wish I could see him once, to know that he is safe . . . happy.’
‘Of course you do. But perhaps you should put him first and realise that it may not be the best thing for him,’ he said gently. ‘Now, it’s past one in the morning and I have to be up bright and early for the little senhorita downstairs.’
‘Of course,’ I said, turning round immediately, crossing the terrace and retrieving my bag from under the table. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Actually, Maia, I was going to suggest you stay here. I don’t think you should be alone tonight.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, panicked by his suggestion and heading for the door.
‘Wait.’ Floriano chuckled as he caught up with me. ‘I didn’t mean you should stay withme.I meant that you could sleep in Petra’s room. She’s gone home to Salvador to see her family for a week. Really, please stay here. I’ll worry about you if you don’t.’
‘Okay,’ I agreed, feeling too exhausted to argue. ‘Thank you.’
Floriano blew out the candles and switched off his computer, then we both walked downstairs and he pointed me in the direction of Petra’s room.
‘You’ll be glad to know I changed the sheets and vacuumed after she left, so it’s quite presentable for a change. The bathroom is just along there on the right. Ladies first. Goodnight, Maia,’ he said, coming towards me and dropping a gentle kiss on my forehead. ‘Sleep well.’
With a wave he disappeared back upstairs and I went to use the bathroom. Entering Petra’s room a few minutes later, I looked at the biology text books stacked on rough shelves above a desk, saw the jumble of cosmetics strewn over the dressing table and a pair of jeans tossed haphazardly onto a chair. As I stripped down to my T-shirt and climbed into the narrow bed, I remembered that I too had once been a carefree student with my whole life ahead of me – a pristine canvas waiting for me, the artist, to paint upon it – until I’d found out I was pregnant.
And with that thought, I fell asleep.
47
I was woken by the sound of a door opening and the feeling that I was not alone in the room. I opened my eyes and saw Valentina standing at the end of the bed, staring at me.
‘It’s already ten o’clock. Papai and I just made pound cake for breakfast. Will you get up now and help us eat it?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, still coming to, having obviously slept deeply. Valentina nodded in satisfaction then left the room and I rolled out of bed and dressed quickly. As I walked along the narrow corridor, a delicious smell of baking filled my nostrils, reminding me of Claudia’s kitchen at Atlantis. Following the sound of Valentina’s chatter, I climbed the stairs to the roof terrace and found father and daughter already seated and tucking in with relish to the circular ring of cake that sat in the centre of the table.
‘Good morning, Maia. How did you sleep?’ asked Floriano, wiping crumbs from his mouth as he pulled out the rickety wooden chair for me to sit down on.
