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“It does matter!” she says, her voice getting louder with each word. “To me, it matters! We’ve been together for years, we have kids, and I do everything for our family, for us! But despite this seemingly perfect life we’ve built—” she screams, throwing her arms in the air “—it’s not real! We’re missing the foundation. You won’t commit to our family, won’t marry me! It doesn’t matter how many times I ask you to!”
Camila has tears streaming down her face, and seeing the hurt I caused her hammers home that I’m a bastard and was selfish in my actions. I know I should comfort and embrace her, but the defeat I feel over what I’ve allowed my life to become is too powerful to let me, even if I am the cause of her pain.
My heart isn’t satisfied, hasn’t been since that fateful night Lena disappeared from my life. I can no longer pretend that everything between Camila and me is fine. The words fall from my mouth before I can stop them. “I’m not in love with you, Camila; I never will be.”
“Why can’t you love me? Why won’t you love me?!” she yells, thrashing my chest with her fist-clenched hands.
“I can’t tell you that because I don’t know,” I say, moving away from her to stop the onslaught of her fury.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it! You do know, but you just don’t want to say it to spare my feelings! Newsflash, Massimo, you’ve already shattered me, so spare me and just tell me the truth!”
“Please, Camila, don’t do this!”
“If you’re gonna ruin my life, at least be a man about it and say it to my face!”
“Why? It’s not gonna change anything!”
“Because that bitch walked away from you and destroyed your heart! I was the one who was there for you! I’m the one who gave you the children you so desperately wanted! Yet you’re incapable of loving me, of loving anyone but her! She robbed me of your love and robbed your children of having a complete family. She’s a ghost that lives in our house and sleeps in our bed! I just don’t understand how you can still fucking love her!”
“I can’t explain it. Not to you and not to myself. I just do,” I respond, shoulders sagging in defeat.
“You know what, Massimo? Fuck you! I deserve so much better than this, than you!” she retorts, storming out of the kitchen.
“You’re right, Camila, you do. I’m sorry for everything. But mostly, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
Back inside, Lena is still with Dom and Luci. I take a seat next to Dom, resting my elbows on my knees. “Thank you for being here.”
“Of course, you’re my brother, and I’m here for you. Always! Can I do anything for you before leaving?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
“All right. If you need anything, just let me know. We’re taking off,” Dom says, as he and Luci stand. I look at him, then at Luci before glancing over to Lena, who purses her lips and shrugs. Lena stands and hugs Luci before sitting in the chair next to me, her hand resting on my lower back, caressing me.
“Long day, huh?” she says, more a statement than a question needing an answer.
“Doesn’t even begin to explain it.”
“There were a lot of people here. I waited in line for more than an hour before I was even in the door. Your mother was loved, and tonight was a testament to that.”
“Yeah.” I stand, extending my hand to Lena. “Let’s get out of here; I don’t want to be here anymore.”
My car is parked to the far right of the funeral home, and when we reach it, I open the passenger side door for Lena and ask, “You want to go the South Street Diner, grab some coffee, maybe a bite?”
She lifts her left wrist, pulling back her jacket sleeve, and looks at her watch. “It’s 10:30 p.m. I can’t have coffee now because I have a hearing at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow morning and need to stop by the office first. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. I’ll drive you home.” I close the door and walk around to get into the driver’s seat. Her rejection stings like a motherfucker.
“Where do you live?” I ask.
“Beacon Hill, 79 Pinckney.”
“Oh, you fancy now, huh?” We both chuckle.
“Just a small one-bedroom apartment on the third floor; I couldn’t resist the view,” she says, shrugging.
Before pulling out of the parking lot, I search my phone for music to play, something Lena will like, and decide on Daughtry’s “It’s Not Over.” When the music starts, Lena glances over at me and gives me a crooked smile. I extend my hand to place it on her leg, squeezing just above her knee.
The ride to her house is silent except for the music playing. Even though I’m with Lena and I wanted to talk with her, I’m not in the talking mood. Between my mother’s death, Camila, Lena’s return, our being intimate a few days ago, and now her rejection, I’m drained. It seems she isn’t much for conversation either. Or maybe she still reads me like a book and knows I’m in my feelings right now.
