Page 39 of Slow Burn

After a few moments, he squeezed it, pulling me into him, shifting his body so that I was lying on his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I stayed there, closing my eyes, listening to the rise and fall of his breath, just wanting to be there for whatever he needed me to be there for.

‘My mother wants me to fly straight home to Italy,’ he said eventually, his voice piercing the silence.

‘Of course she does,’ I said. ‘She needs you.’

‘But the tour…’ he said, letting his words drift off. He didn’t need to say more. I knew how he must feel. Slow Burn was his show; he was carrying the entire thing. Getting up and leaving it in somebody else’s hands was never going to be easy, no matter the circumstances.

‘We’ll make it work. It’s what understudies are for: moments like this. It can’t be helped and the show will be the least of all our worries,’ I assured him.

He sighed and my heart broke for him, because not performing would be another loss: his father and now the show he had helped create, that he loved being a part of.

‘I do not want the show to fall to pieces because I am not there,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper.

‘I want it to be a success, for Carlos, but also for you. And Luca might be my understudy, but I do not think he is good enough to take my place. He is a solid dancer, he will be able to pick the steps up easily enough, and I know you have taught him most of the routines already, but I have seen you dance with him in the group salsa number and there is no chemistry there. No connection.’

I ran my hand across his stomach, wanting to soothe him, wishing he would stop worrying about things he couldn’t control. The producers would work out what to do; Gabriele just needed to get himself on a plane and travel to be with his family.

‘I’ll make it work,’ I said. ‘Please don’t focus on the show. It’s more important that you worry about your mother and the farm, and allow yourself time to grieve your dad.’

I thought he might push me away at that point, become defensive, but instead he held me tighter, and I did the same to him, wanting him to know that I would match him step for step; however much of me he needed, he could take.

‘I feel like I am going crazy,’ he said, running his fingers through my hair.

‘My head will not let me think about Papa or the fact that I will never see him again, that maybe I let him down, that he probably died resenting me, thinking me useless, unhelpful. Wondering if I loved him enough. I cannot think about all of that because it is too much, too painful. I must focus on what I can control – the show. I can make sure I do what is best for you; it will give me something positive to think about.’

‘Okay,’ I said, propping myself up on one elbow, looking into Gabriele’s eyes. Because who was I to say he should do one thing or another?

‘In a second, I will call Carlos. Tell him what has happened. That he must tell Daniella to call Luca into the theatre first thing tomorrow morning for a run-through with you.’

I nodded. Carlos had not joined us for this leg of the tour, as was usual for choreographers, instead leaving us in the capable hands of his dance captain and second in command, Daniella.

He had been planning to fly out for the final shows in Florence, but I wondered what would happen now, if it would be necessary for him to change his plans.

Gabriele rolled on top of me, bracing himself on his arms so that he didn’t squash me.

‘I want you to be okay, Lira. I want this success for you.’

I cupped his face in my hands. ‘I can’t believe you’re thinking about me at a time like this. This is all about you. Tell me how you’re feeling. Talk to me.’

‘I will,’ he said, nodding, and I could see in his eyes that there was so much going on in his head right now that he probably couldn’t even begin to articulate it.

‘But I cannot do it tonight. But when I can, I will. And you will be the only person I will tell my innermost thoughts to. Would that be okay? Could you bear it?’

‘Of course I could,’ I said, unbelievably touched that he felt able to open up to me when I knew he found it almost impossible to do that with anyone.

‘You can tell me anything. It won’t be too much for me, I promise.

You can say anything that comes into your head, but only when you’re ready.

You can also be silent and say absolutely nothing because, honestly, I get that too. ’

He hung his head before rolling off me completely.

‘I think I will go take a shower. Will you wait for me?’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I said, watching him pull off his costume wearily as he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

For the first fifteen minutes or so, I assumed he was finding the shower soothing. That it was helping ease the pain of everything, although I didn’t know how it could, not tonight. But as time ticked on, I began to worry.

I sat up, propelling myself to the end of the bed and pushing myself to my feet. Creeping over to the bathroom door, I called his name, quietly the first time, more loudly the second.

‘Gabriele? Gabi? Are you okay in there?’

There was no answer, and just as I was panicking about either having to break down the door or call reception to ask them to do it for me, the door unlocked from the inside.

Gabriele was wet from the shower, a towel around his waist. Behind him, the room was backlit and steamy.

I didn’t notice it at first, but then I saw that he’d been crying.

It must have hit him in the shower. He’d probably been in shock before.

I rushed to him, wrapping my arms around him, not caring that he was sopping wet and that I was now, too.

He let himself cry harder, sobbing softly into my shoulder.

‘I did not even get to say goodbye,’ he said.

‘I know,’ I said, wishing there was something I could say to make things better for him, just a little bit.

‘How am I going to live with the guilt of what I have done?’ he said, gasping for air in between sobs. ‘I let him down time and time again. I am not like you; I was not a good son. I refused to put my family before what I wanted.’

‘And that’s okay,’ I said, stroking him, desperate for him not to blame himself. ‘That’s what you should do. I was wrong; you were right. Your dad would have admired you for that. I bet he was so proud of what you’d achieved, even if he didn’t say it.’

And as I held him tighter, wondering how we’d got so close, never wanting to lose what we had in that moment, even if it had come at the most devastating of times, I realized that all I wanted was for him to be happy again, whatever that looked like.

‘Thank you,’ he said, coming up for air.

I nodded. ‘I’m here. Any time you want me.’