Page 82 of The Unraveling of Julia

“Oh my, thank you.” Julia felt touched.

“I’d love for you to meet my husband and daughter. They went downstairs to get coffee and sandwiches.” Sherry seemed to catch herself. “Would you like something to eat? I can text them.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.”

“Oh, look, here they are. I’m sure they have extra, knowing myhusband.” Sherry motioned to the door, which was opened by a handsome, middle-aged man carrying a tray of sandwiches, snacks, and soda. He had cool wire-rimmed glasses, a gentle smile like Gianluca’s, and graying black curls. He was wearing a striped shirt with jeans and started speaking Italian when Sherry interrupted him.

“Tonio, this is Julia, Gianluca’s girlfriend.”

“Hello, Julia,” Tonio said in Italian-accented English, with a teary smile. “It’s good to meet you, even on this terrible day.”

“I’m so sorry this happened to Gianluca.”

“I know, thank you. We pray for him. Julia, this is Raffaella, Gianluca’s older sister.” Tonio gestured behind him to a young woman with short blue hair, funky silver earrings, and a flowery boho top with jeans. A snake tattoo coiled around her right arm.

“Nice to meet you.” Julia was about to extend a hand, but Raffaella’s pierced lips parted.

“Why are you here? You’re not family, and it’s only family.”

Julia blinked. “They told me—”

“Wait. Are youmarried?”

Julia’s mouth went dry. “No, I’m not—”

“Then why are you wearing a wedding ring?”

Sherry’s eyes flared. “What? I didn’t notice—”

“See, Mamma, this is what I mean!” Raffaella threw up her hands, turning to her mother. “He leads with his heart, he always has. She’s on her little vacation fantasy, then she goes home, leaving him in pieces!”

“No, I’m… not,” Julia said, stammering.

Everyone looked shocked, bursting into excited chatter, and Julia edged back toward the door. She didn’t want to tell them she was a widow, that she was sleeping with one man and feeling married to another.

“I’m sorry.” Julia fled the room and hurried down the hallway.

45

Tears came to Julia’s eyes, but she wiped them away. She got off the elevator on the first floor and headed for the exit. Her step seemed to slow of its own volition. She didn’t want to leave the hospital. She wanted to be under the same roof as Gianluca, until he was out of surgery.

She spotted a ladies’ room and ducked inside to compose herself. She was still getting used to the unisex European bathrooms, with a basin in a common area and private toilets. She washed her face in the sink, dried off with a section from the cloth towel dispenser, then checked her reflection. She looked haunted, which was how she felt. She left the bathroom.

She reached a large waiting area near the entrance, in which about fifty fabric chairs were arranged in an octagon, with scattered end tables. Nobody was there except for a uniformed janitor looking at his phone, his cleaning cart next to him. Beyond the waiting area was a reception desk staffed by the ponytailed woman who had checked Julia in. She was about the same age, with pretty eyes and light makeup.

Julia took a seat, flashing on the scene upstairs. She felt mortifiedby Raffaella’s words, which cut deep because they had a kernel of truth. She couldn’t shake a deeper, newer feeling, of shame. Then she realized why.

You’re not family.

The words had resonated in her chest. She knew the feeling, the close-but-no-cigars of being not-quite-family. She’d had it growing up. She shared her parents’ last name but she wasn’tofthem. They were on one side of the line, she was on the other. The line was drawn in blood. Everyone in the surgical waiting room upstairs was Gianluca’s blood relative. The resemblance showed in their eyes, smiles, and curls. She didn’t belong there. She didn’t know where she belonged. She didn’t belong anywhere. She never had.

The receptionist motioned her over with a puzzled smile. “Miss?”

Julia walked to the desk.

“Did you go upstairs? Could you not find the waiting room?”

“Yes, but I decided to wait down here. Maybe you could tell me when he’s out of surgery?”