A Year at 32 September Way Page 7

  “I think I’ll have what she’s had tonight,” Eva decided, “though maybe not quite as much.”

  ***

  Charles emerged from the bathroom looking much neater and cleaner than he had when Sofia had gently ushered him in. Although his wavy hair wasn’t as neatly trimmed as usual, he’d tamed it with a good washing and a little bit of hair gel. The beard was gone, as was the body odor that had assaulted his young guest when he’d opened the door. He was dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a striped button-down shirt. The look in his eyes showed that his confidence level didn’t quite match his appearance, but slow progress was better than none at all.

  One look around the room was all that Charles needed to know that Sofia had taken the liberty of cleaning a bit and airing out the apartment while he was in the shower. “Was it really that bad?” he asked her.

  “It wasn’t the apartment I was concerned about, Charles,” she’d replied.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” he nodded, understanding the weight of the situation. “My father’s always said….”

  Sofia cut him off, preventing him from finishing a thought she’d heard him repeat several times since she’d come to work with him. “Charles, it’s clear your father’s words have hurt you, and maybe he believes they’re true. Or maybe he’s talking about himself and just putting it off on you. But, as my own father would say, ‘You can’t let others define you; you’ve got to make your own way in this life.’ And maybe that’s one of the reasons you came to Verona: to make your own way in life. What do you say? I mean, you’re here, right? Might as well give it a try.”

  She glanced toward him, and he met her gaze. Her little speech had been half invitation and half nudge. Charles knew it was an open door that he could either choose to walk through to start a new life, or turn away from and remain in the old one. But there was no going back, that was clear now. If he returned to his old life, what was left of him would continue to decay. Sofia was right; coming to Verona was his second chance, and he needed to take it.

  He glanced away for a moment and nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The tapes in his head had been playing the same old sad songs for so long, it was hard to stop listening to their message that he couldn’t do it, that he wasn’t good enough or that he’d never amount to anything if he didn’t listen. But it had to stop. It was time to break free from the chains he’d allowed his father to bind him with.

  “I will do it, Sofia. Being here is my second chance. If I go back now, my life will remain as it always has been. I can’t go back to that. In fact, I can’t go back until I’ve done as your father says and made my own way.”

  The young woman with the gleaming black hair and the radiant smile clapped her hands and cheered, “Bravo, Charles, bravo!”

  He gave her a half-smile, feeling both wary and triumphant at the same time. A little voice inside told him to grab the bull by the horns and get started today, but Charles was still feeling unsure about himself. He began to open his mouth to say something, before second-guessing himself and closing it again.

  “Yes, Charles?” Sofia responded. “You wanted to ask me something.” She was so confident, he thought, and had always seemed to know what was on his mind before he said it.

  He cleared his throat as if doing so would help him get rid of the shyness that silenced his tongue. “Yes, of course,” he’d started. “I was thinking a celebration is in order and wondered if you might care to join me for dinner.”

  Without giving it any thought, he pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow. “You’ve merely asked the young woman out to dinner, chap,” he chided himself, “not climbed Mount Everest.” Still, he was feeling like he’d done the latter.

  Sofia returned his offer with a sweet smile and agreed that a celebration was in order, and she’d be honored to be a part of it. There was a nice restaurant not far from the center of Verona, and she felt sure Charles would enjoy it. Thankful for a bit of guidance, he responded that he’d be delighted to try her suggestion.

  “I must stop to see someone on the way to the restaurant, Charles,” Sofia explained as they prepared to leave his apartment, “but I’d like you to come with me, if you would.”

  He felt as if he’d used up his quota of bravery for the night, but he couldn’t exactly back out now. Charles was finally venturing out of his apartment and had the company of his bright young former assistant to look forward to during his first real outing in Verona. He felt he’d been given a second chance at life. One small addition to the evening couldn’t hurt, and he had to stop shying away from every new situation in which his father’s voice rose up and declared “You’ll never be able to do it.” It was time to start proving his father wrong.

  ***

  There wasn’t much for Marcello to pack before leaving the hospital, since he hadn’t expected to be there in the first place. Getting in trouble with Carlotta’s family had never put him in the hospital before. Sure, they made certain to make a point he’d remember for quite a while, but they’d never seriously hurt him. This time it had been different. He’d made a stupid, careless mistake, one Salvatore and the older brothers ensured would never be repeated.

  Worse yet, he’d been shamed in front of his own wife when he saw her peering out the upstairs window as the paramedics loaded the gurney into the ambulance. Whether her family had meant to break his ribs and bruise his kidneys was not in question; everything they did was calculated. More than two weeks later, his ego was still bruised, his ribs still hurt and Marcello still felt as if he could never hold his head high in Bardolino again.

  Originally, his plan was to leave the hospital by taxi and spend the night with Eva before heading back to his family in Venice. Once there, he could talk with his parents and his siblings about his mistakes, his failing marriage and Carlotta’s increasingly erratic behavior. They would be upset and disappointed, and facing his parents’ disappointment would be one of the worst punishments Marcello could imagine. But he had to come clean about things, particularly the stranglehold Carlotta’s family had on him and the stress it was causing. He couldn’t tell them about Eva yet, but he would one day.

  Then he’d received an unexpected but pleasant phone call, and his plans for leaving the hospital changed. Eva was very disappointed; he could hear that in her voice when he called. He’d let her down many times and was surprised she hadn’t yet called it quits with him. But he would make it up to her later, once other important details were straightened out.

  Marcello stood behind the opened door of the wardrobe, placing his folded clothing into the simple cloth bag he’d purchased from the older woman who’d come through earlier pushing a cart full of items from the hospital gift shop. He was so wrapped up in the task that he didn’t hear the knock at his door.

  “Papa?” came the sweet voice from the other side of the doorway. The familiar voice was music to his ears and had been for twenty-three years.

  He peered around the wardrobe door. “Sofia, my darling! Your beautiful face is the best medicine a father could ever ask for.”

  The young woman strode toward her father, but he stopped her short of a hug. “Gentle hugs, please, my dear. I’m afraid your Papa’s a bit banged up.”

  “Oh Papa, I hate to see you hurting like that.”

  Marcello had always been a hero and king to his daughter, and she’d always been the apple of his eye. He lifted his hand to caress the side of her face and caught a bit of movement by the doorway out of the corner of his eye. His daughter noticed the distraction and responded.

  “Oh, Papa, this is Charles, the wonderful, kind man I worked for at the bank. I’m going to show him a bit of Verona tonight.” Sofia gestured for Charles to come in, and he quietly stepped into the room and offered his hand to Marcello.

  “Good to see you again, Signor Benedetto. I wish you a quick recovery,” the younger man said, as Marcello remembered how stand-offish and businesslike Charles had been the day he arrived at the
apartment.

  “Going out on the town with my daughter, are you? She’s my princess, I hope you know….”

  “Papa, don’t embarrass me,” Sofia cut in. “Why, it’s the least I can do after all the help Charles gave me in London.”

  Marcello insisted Sofia drive him only as far as his preferred livery company in Verona so she could get on with her evening and he could be off to his home in Venice. Some quiet time alone to rest and reflect would do him good. But before parting ways, he and Sofia made plans to see each other the next day in Venice. Safely tucked into the livery with his daughter’s sweet kiss still lingering on his cheek, Marcello thought about Eva and all the mistakes he had made. “I wonder if it’s too late,” he thought out loud as the city of Verona faded into the distance.

  Chapter 7

  “I understand, darling. No, I’m not angry; don’t worry. I’ll see you next week.” Eva placed the phone gently back onto the cradle. She was disappointed that Marcello couldn’t make it to the dinner she’d arranged, but not devastated. No, she’d allowed herself to go down that road plenty of other times in this relationship and wasn’t going to do it anymore.

  Things were quite different now than they were when she’d first arrived in Verona. Unfortunately, it had taken getting mad and hurt enough to consider leaving Verona to realize how clingy and dependent she’d allowed herself to become with Marcello. And how easy she’d made it for him to disrespect her and behave badly without any consequences. But that all changed after he’d been released from the hospital and had stood her up one final time.

  In the past, Eva had always been strong in her relationships, sharing control equally with her partner, but certainly never giving him full reign. Why had she acted so differently with Marcello, she’d often wondered after that last difficult evening. She had some ideas but was never quite sure. One thing she was certain about: she would no longer behave like the submissive little mouse. He could love and appreciate the new Eva and behave more respectfully, or…well, she hated to consider the alternative. But she knew that if the time came to put an end to the relationship she would do it, no matter how sad it made her feel.

  After he had stood her up the last time, Eva was so mad at Marcello that she wouldn’t answer his phone calls for a week. When he showed up at her door the following week, he got the cold shoulder and barely a kiss the entire visit. No amount of pouting, huffing or puffing on his part would break her resolve. She was determined to let him know, in no uncertain terms, that he’d gone too far with his bad behavior and she wouldn’t tolerate it any longer.

  Eva could see that her new stance was a bit of a shock to Marcello. After informing him that she was too busy to see him again until the end of the week, she had sent him on his way while the night was still young, and then smiled to herself after closing the door. Turning Marcello away for the evening did require a certain amount of willpower and resolve. He was still the sexiest, most charming, handsomest man she’d ever met. But he needed to learn a lesson, and she was certainly going to do her best to teach him the right one. She was off to a good start and felt proud of her turnaround.

  Since then, she had spent only a few evenings with Marcello and had allowed him to kiss her. The first two times he left in a huff, but Eva held her ground. The third time they got together he didn’t even press the matter, although he did try to seduce her. Eva reassured him that she was still attracted to him, explaining that she needed to set some boundaries and refused to be disrespected any longer. Whether Marcello would live with the new rules of their relationship remained to be seen, but at least Eva was reclaiming her self-respect and dignity.

  With more spare time on her hands, Eva indulged in some exploring and decided to find some new friends. She started her explorations inside her own apartment. Once she’d gotten over feeling sad and angry at Marcello, she’d decided to find out exactly why the large bookshelf was hiding a door. It had taken the better part of the next day for Eva to clear off the bookshelf and then slowly inch the heavy wooden shelving unit away from the door without tipping it over.

  Once the area in front of the hidden door was clear, Eva anxiously prepared to discover whatever waited behind it. It was then she’d discovered the door had no handle and had been sealed shut. But she was determined to get it open; she’d come this far and wasn’t about to quit now. When a kitchen knife proved too weak to pry the door open, Eva used ventured further out of her immediate neighborhood in search of the Italian version of a hardware store.

  Armed with the proper supplies, she returned home and worked at jimmying the door open carefully to cause the least possible damage to the door. Carefully, she inserted the end of the crowbar into the small gap between the edge of the door and the doorjamb. It barely fit, and Eva hoped she’d be able to get enough leverage to loosen the door from the jamb.

  Eva pulled the crowbar toward her, then pushed it toward the wall, trying any movement that might help her find out what was on the other side of the door. After pushing the tool back and forth a few times, Eva heard a quiet cracking noise, and the gap began to widen. Stooping down to where the doorknob would have been, she tried to peer through the crack to see what was behind the door, but all she could see was darkness. “I have to get this thing open,” she said to herself and got back to work.

  Persistence and curiosity paid off when the door finally broke free, sending Eva tumbling backwards to the floor. From her position on the floor she could see nothing but darkness, cobwebs and what appeared to be piles of junk.

  “Well, here goes nothing,” she said to herself as she dusted herself off and slowly approached the opening in the wall. She hadn’t thought to buy a flashlight, so she pulled her cellphone from her pocket and used its dim light to help her see. Eva used her bare hand to swipe at the cobwebs blocking the doorway, wiping them off on her blue jeans. She entered the room one tentative step at a time, stopping for a minute to let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

  The room was filled with wooden crates and old furniture, all of which were covered by white sheets and some of which were covered by years’ worth of dust. Although she was interested in seeing what might be tucked away in the wooden crates, Eva’s attention was drawn to the door on the other side of the large attic-like room. It was clear no one could have ever lived up here. The room was hot from absorbing the day’s sun, and the bare rafters revealed that the space was strictly utilitarian in nature. But it also connected the apartment she lived in with something else—which Eva wanted to find out more about.

  She gingerly made her way through the narrow walkway someone had left between the stacks of crates and piles of furniture. Eva looked around and wondered where it all came from and who it belonged to. Somewhere amongst all this old stuff was somebody’s story. For now, that curiosity would have to wait for another day because the central focus of her mission was opening the door on the other side of the room.

  After a few minutes, Eva finally stood face to face with the cobweb-covered door on the far side of the room. Thankfully, this one had a doorknob. She doubted that she’d be lucky enough to simply turn the knob and open the door, but it was worth a shot. No luck; the door was locked. “Who would have the keys, and where could they possibly be?” she wondered out loud.

  Eva stood there for a minute contemplating her options. She could pry the door open with the crowbar, but that might be pushing her luck with Marcello too far. As she scratched her head and got ready to turn back, Eva felt something move beneath her feet. She squinted in the dimly lit room and looked down to see a well-worn rag rug on the floor. A lightbulb went on in her head. What were the chances that the key to the door was tucked away under the rug, just like in the movies? Pretty good, in fact. She peeled the rug back to find an old skeleton key tied to a nail head that barely stuck out of the floor.

  The rusted old key slid into the keyhole with minimal effort, and Eva turned it. A clunking noise sounded from within the doorknob as the lock sprang loose for the firs
t time in who knew how many years. All that was standing between her and whatever was on the other side was a simple turn of the doorknob. Eva rotated the knob slowly to the left and eased the door open just a crack. “What if someone lives on the other side?” she thought at the last moment.

  Peering through the slit in the door, Eva could see the top of a stairway and sunlight streaming in from the window above it. She stepped through, leaving the door open behind her. For a moment, she stood at the top of the stairway and listened for signs of life. When there were none, she proceeded down the stairs. Two flights down she came to a door labeled with a number three. Continuing down the stairs she came to another door labeled number two, and then at the bottom of the steps there was one last door, labeled with a number one. Four more steps and she was out the front door and standing in the front courtyard at the end of a very anticlimactic adventure.

  That was all. Somehow, at some time, someone had chosen to block off that small apartment at the top of the building and separate it from the rest of the building. Eva doubted it was Marcello because everything she’d discovered today had been the way it was for much longer than they had been together. But he had clearly chosen to capitalize on the separate quarters by keeping her apart from whoever lived in the other apartments. Trudging back up the stairs, Eva shook her head. She had no idea why Marcello would do that and, at this point, it really didn’t matter anymore. There might not have been anyone around the building at the moment, but she was sure people lived in the other apartments; there were letters sticking out of the mail slots in the foyer.

  “Well then, I know what my next mission will be,” Eva said out loud as she washed the grime and rust off her hands at her kitchen sink. “I think it’s time to get to know my neighbors.”