Page 37 of Slow Burn

She wrapped her arms tightly around me so that there was no space between us at all.

‘Do you think it’s fate that brought us back together all these years later?’ she said.

‘I do not know,’ I admitted. ‘But we are not the people we were then. We were young and impulsive and we had not learned how to have difficult conversations yet. But look, here we are, having one.’

She nodded. ‘And that feels like a good start, doesn’t it?’

We held hands on the way back to the hotel.

It was downhill all the way, and we chatted about lots of different things, one of us pointing out a beautiful building or an interesting display in a shop window as we passed it, or the facades of a building decorated with beautiful blue and yellow ceramic tiles.

The sky above our heads was clear and bright, and with Lira’s hand in mine I felt like a different person altogether, a world away from the guy who had spent his birthday completely alone, with nobody except his parents so much as acknowledging it.

Our hotel was on a pretty side street and no words were needed as we stepped inside the foyer and took the stairs up to my room.

It was cool and dark inside, since it overlooked a shady courtyard rather than the bustling street at the front of the building, and quiet except for the hum of the air-conditioning unit.

The housekeeper had been – the bed was perfectly made, smooth and inviting. The muslin curtain billowed in the breeze from an open window; on the street down below, a tram rattled past.

‘If I’d told you that I was leaving that night, why I had to go – about the studio, that I was giving up dancing – what would you have said?’ Lira asked me, her face serious.

It felt important for her to know, but on the other hand, how could I be sure? How could I transport myself back to that place and imagine what my twenty-two-year-old self would have said or done?

‘I think I would have told you to stay. To miss your flight. To say no to your parents. That you were too talented a dancer to give it up.’

She bit her lip. ‘Would you?’

‘I cannot know for definite,’ I said, taking both of her hands, pulling her towards me, wanting her to relax. ‘I was not the same person I am now. I would have been thinking selfishly. I would not necessarily have considered what was best for you.’

Anyway, the past was the past. Why did it matter so much what we did or did not say to each other then? We were here now . We had the second chance I had always craved.

I burrowed my face into her neck, breathing in the scent of her, her perfume that smelled like bitter orange and cloves, the hair product she used that lingered on my skin whenever she had been near me. I tilted her chin so that her eyes met mine.

‘Let us enjoy this for what it is. It is impossible to know what will come, to predict what will happen in the future,’ I said.

She ran her hand underneath my shirt, sending shivers shooting up and down my spine.

It was like she was opening herself up to me, I could feel it happening in real time.

Then she took my hand and led me to the bed, laying down and pulling me on top of her, our fingers entwined above her head. She smiled at me.

‘This feels different,’ she said.

I nodded. ‘I know.’

I was not sure if she meant different from the last time we had slept together, or different from being with anybody else, but either way I was in agreement. ‘Except that this time you have far too many clothes on,’ I teased.

I began to unbutton her jeans with a focused intensity, needing to run my hands over the silky soft skin I knew was beneath them. I tried to ease them down her body, but they would not come easily and I was becoming increasingly impatient.

‘I am going to have rip these right off you,’ I groaned as she wriggled beneath me, trying get them down, too. ‘Do not worry, I will buy you new ones.’

She half-laughed, half-gasped as I gave one huge yank and they finally slid down her legs. She kicked them off over her feet, revealing a delicate white lace underwear set that sent my body temperature soaring on the spot.

‘I wore these especially for you,’ she whispered, as I flipped her on top of me, caressing her thighs as she straddled me, groaning at the glorious sight of her mostly naked body.

‘Such a shame you have to take them off, too,’ I said, helping her out of them, dragging off the remainder of my own clothes. Our breath was fast and ragged, the need between us becoming almost unbearable.

I had never been this turned on in my life.

The second she had slipped a condom onto me, her hands deft and warm, I guided her into place, crying out with pleasure as I moved effortlessly inside of her. I knew that I could never, ever get enough of this, no matter how many lazy afternoons in bed we might spend together.

Afterwards, she lay in my arms and I stroked her hair as her breathing softened and stilled.

It was all so idyllic that I was beyond irritated when my phone rang, shattering the comfortable silence we had been languishing in.

I wished I had turned the thing off, but I had heard it now, and I could not un-hear it.

It’s just that I had never realized being with someone after sex could feel so good.

That staying with them, keeping the connection alive, holding them, letting them stroke their hand up and down your stomach so delicately.

It instantly made me feel as though I was less alone in the world.

Reluctantly, I reached out my hand, sliding my phone off the bedside table and glancing at the screen. It was my mother calling. I could hardly speak to her now, butt naked and with Lira splayed across my chest. I let it ring out.

But within seconds she was ringing me again and I knew, instinctively, that something was wrong. I eased Lira gently off me.

‘Sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I should take this.’

I sat up, swinging my legs off the side of the bed, simultaneously answering my phone. For some reason, I felt the need to get up, to pace around the hotel room.

‘Hey, Mama,’ I said.

For a few seconds, all I could hear was Mama’s breathing. Heavy, laboured.

‘Mama, what is wrong?’ I demanded to know.

‘It’s your father,’ she said. ‘He’s in the hospital, I’m here with him now. They say he’s had a heart attack, Gabriele.’

She dissolved into tears; big, wracking sobs that I was almost sure Lira would be able to hear. I looked over my shoulder and, sure enough, she was watching me with a look of concern in her eyes.

‘Mama, it will be okay,’ I said, keeping my voice low and reassuring, even if I knew that what I was about to say could well be a lie. ‘He will be fine. He is in the best place. The doctors are with him now. They will fix this.’

‘He was out in the vineyard,’ sobbed Mama. ‘I was at home, preparing dinner. He would have been finishing up, about to head home. I heard shouting outside and when I looked out of the window I saw him, crumpled on the ground. Gio was screaming for help.’

Gio worked on the farm with Papa; he had been with us for years. It must have been a shock for him, too, to have seen Papa like that.

I heard Mama talking to someone in the background. From what I could make out, it was a doctor, asking her to come somewhere.

‘I have to go,’ said my mother, sounding calmer, although perhaps it was that she had no tears left. ‘The doctor wants to speak to me.’

‘Call me straight afterwards,’ I said. ‘I want to know exactly what he said. If you need me to, I can get on a flight tonight.’

‘What about the show?’ sniffed Mama.

‘There is an understudy, Mama,’ I said as she ended the call.

I could not bear to look at Lira at first, although another part of me wanted to throw myself into her arms and let her hold me and comfort me.

But that was not how I handled things. Although, how did one handle a parent being seriously ill?

It had never happened to me before. For all Papa’s ailments and poor health, I had never expected anything anywhere near as terrible as this – not yet, not this soon.

Suddenly, Lira was standing next to me, slipping her arms around me.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

I swallowed hard, her care for me making me feel like crying, something I had not done for many years and had no intention of indulging in now.

I would remain positive, expect the best. My father would make a full recovery.

I had to believe he would, because the alternative was too awful to contemplate.

‘My father had a heart attack,’ I said. My voice sounded weak and strained, I could hear it myself, so I knew that Lira would pick up on it too.

She held me tighter.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.

I gently removed her hands from around me. It was not that I was unappreciative of her being here, but I could not be emotional in front of other people; it just was not in my DNA.

‘I should go,’ said Lira, picking up on the cues.

I turned to face her, trying to be kind, to not leave her feeling rejected or as though I did not appreciate what she was trying to do. I touched her face lightly.

‘I think I need to be alone for a moment or two. If that is okay,’ I said.

She nodded, immediately beginning to get dressed, gathering up her things that were strewn around the room.

‘Of course,’ she said, sounding flustered.

I had hurt her feelings, but I could not think about that now. I felt almost robotic, as though my brain was shutting down to protect itself, and that it was not sending the right signals to the right places.

I watched her leave, closing the door behind her, feeling wretched about a whole host of things. I sat on the edge of my bed and only then did I let the tears fall.

Please let Papa be okay , I said to nobody in particular. Because who was going to help me now? I was entirely helpless, at the mercy of the gods, and the hope I had pretended to have a few minutes ago was nowhere to be seen.