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When I sat Caleb and Myla down to explain we wouldn’t be seeing Luca anymore, I merely told them he had to go away. It’s not a complete lie, I suppose. But it’s definitely a half truth. And it’s as if they know. They pushed for answers, and I didn’t feel I could provide them. Had he gone back to Italy? Where’s Mimmo? The only question I could rectify was whether it was something they’d done.
Why is it natural to blame one’s self? Even as children, we think despicable behavior is somehow our fault. But these children didn’t cause Luca to be arrested any more than they caused their father to take his own life. And if I have one job to do for the rest of my days, it’ll be proving that to them.
They are beautiful.
They are smart.
And they are worthy of being loved.
That day I broke the news to them was awful. We all cried. Even my mother, who’s practically made of Teflon. It was like mourning another death. How had we let this man become such a huge part of our family in such a short amount of time? It felt so genuine with him.
Can I love someone who’s capable of the types of things they are accusing him of?
Eventually, Myla dried her tears. Now she puts up a strong front. Yet her bravery doesn’t last long, and then she hides away in her room. I know this is causing her to retreat further into that protective shell of hers. My eyes well with tears thinking I’ll likely never hear that sweet voice again.
Caleb is not the boy he once was. While he was too young to be affected by his father’s death beyond treating Dillon like an imaginary superhero, this has ripped the rug out from under him. He idolized Luca. No excuse in the world would be enough to explain why he’d leave without saying goodbye. He now has almost daily outbursts and temper tantrums.
And as if that wasn’t enough, my response to finding out Luca’sdangerwas being a damn drug dealer caused me to accidentally toss out Dillon’s shirt Caleb wears to bed each night. I’ve retraced my steps, going to the thrift shop and begging them to check, not once but twice, praying it was there. Now my punishment, he’s been sleeping with me each night, tossing and turning. He’s so restless. Neither of us is getting any rest, as I usually awake with a foot in my ribs.
I’m trying everything. I offered to take them to a pottery place to make art. But that made them upset because it reminded them of Luca. When we stopped at the grocery store, I asked if they wanted to get a bag of Dum Dum lollipops. Butlow and behold, that was what Luca was using to quit smoking.That’s where those suckers were coming from.
We can’t even go to our favorite Italian restaurant, for fear I’ll see Luigi, and he might want to talk about him. I can’t risk my kids finding out he’s actually still here. Their life has been wrecked enough without finding out their mother is a filthy liar.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but in some ways, this is almost harder than losing Dillon. Despite all of the questions and the horrifying memories of that night, we’ve been forced to grieve for him. He’s gone. Hell, even before he took his life he was emotionally withdrawn and physically distant.
But Luca waswithus. He was engaging and playful. He interacted with each of the kids as if they were all uniquely special to him. There was no job or distance pulling him away from us. He was all in.
My mind flashes back to the last moment we spent together. Luca was saying goodbye before heading out for the evening. He leaned in, his cheek against mine.Jillian, there’s really nowhere else I’d rather be.
And I believe him.Still. I’ve considered it often since that night. That I never had that feeling with Dillon. He always seemed more excited to leave than to be home. How fucked up is this? That a man that’s been arrested for deplorable acts knew how to make each of us feel loved more than the man who vowed to honor and cherish us.
I lock my car door, slide my keys into my purse, and head for the Belle Café to pick up a steaming cup of coffee. It’s been a morning full of errands, and I find now that I’m sharing my bed with Caleb, by the afternoon I’m drained. I’d give anything for a good night’s sleep. But I have no one else to blame but me for that. Okay, I might blame Luca, too. But to be honest, I need to come to terms with my part in this. I mean, he didn’t throw the shirt away.
While Luca may have kept his illegal affairs hidden, he was very clear from the start that he didn’t want a relationship with me. But I dove in headfirst. I’m an adult. There were ample opportunities to heed his warning. I mean, I’d already navigated turbulent waters before he came on the scene and barely made it through. Why on earth wouldn’t I have run once he warned me of the dangers in his life?
Looking over my shoulder, my eyes land on Luigi’s restaurant, and my face falls. It shares the same parking lot as the Belle Café. I look at the cars parked outside and shake my head. You wouldn’t know what he was driving if you saw it. He never drove the same car twice.
And now you know why.
Trying to get my mood back on track, I focus on the stellar cup of coffee I’m about to get. I might even splurge on a latte. As I walk toward the café, I can almost smell the rich aroma of my favorite coffee beanery and restaurant. But as I get closer to the entryway, I freeze.
There in the window, in the back corner of the café, is Luca. I look closer, to make sure it isn’t really his brother. But I’m certain it’s him. He’s wearing the white button down I like so much. And even though I can tell he’s wearing an undershirt beneath his tattoos are visible. I can see them peeking out the collar from here.
Trying to push down the lump in my throat, I watch like a stalker. How is he out of jail? How long ago was he released? Does this mean he’s innocent? Then it hit’s me. He’s out and never once tried to contact us.
I watch as he smiles softly, seemingly without a care in the world. It’s as if his connection to me and the kids never existed. Did I ever really know this man at all?
But for the myriad of questions, the only one I’m able to focus on, is who is the gorgeous girl whose hand his is resting on?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jillian
“Come right this way,”I tell the patient, who currently has his arm wrapped up tighter than a mummy. “What happened?”
“I was trying to separate two frozen burger patties and the knife slipped. It went right into my arm.”
Placing a chucks pad on the stretcher, I begin to unwrap the dressings to get an idea of what might be needed to close the patient’s wound. Without warning, a gush of bright red blood shoots out and hits me in the chest in a pulsatile manner.
