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“No,” he says slowly, his chest pressing into my shoulder as I’m sitting practically on top of him. The bulletproof vest digs into my stomach, but it also warms me a little bit. It makes me nauseous just to think of why I have it on—so I don’t. I focus on him. “That happened much later,” he adds.
I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but I don’t get a chance to.
Because that’s when the shooting starts.
/Marco/
[audio transcript]
We’re on the road again now, mom.
I can’t take her back to the university, because they are waiting to kill us both there. Me for not obeying and her because… well, she is her. Her assassination has been decided. I tried to leave her so many times… Did I tell you that already?
I’m sure I did.
But I always go back to her. I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her alone and scared. I have given her everything I could, everything I had. I asked her what she wanted, although I’m sure she didn’t realize that I was asking her at the time. She… all she wanted was a sweet, perfect day. Like the movies. So I did my best to give it to her.
I googled the hell out of that black and white movie she was talking about. I hope I did ok. All I know is that I gave her a day straight out of the cheesiest effing movie—sorry for almost swearing, mom. I didn’t mind the cheese, I even liked it. She deserves no less.
Then I said goodbye to you and I went to meet my death, but she… Sorry, sorry, I won’t cry any more. At least I’ll try to stop, don’t know if I’ll succeed. I woke up in that freezing water, and I… I couldn’t believe it. Mom, she saved me. Me. She…
{voice interrupted by sobbing sounds}
Listen, I… I won’t be alive when you listen to this, but just think that I wouldn’t have been alive to talk to you right now if it wasn’t for her. I’m out of time, I have to take her inside, it’s raining. She is the reason I’m alive. She is the reason I’m me again, after being so lost and so angry for so many months.
I think I love her.
I would like the last thing I do before I die to be to save her, but it’s unlikely I’ll live that long.
I think that the last thing I do before I die will be to love her.
That’s not so bad, is it, mom?
ten
They’ve found us.
A rain of bullets flies straight at the door, but Marco has kept it secured and barricaded, and no matter how hard they shoot at it or pound on it, they can’t get through. The bullets don’t reach us. Weapons pound on the walls, the metal and wood clanging and echoing through the empty space, but the doors of the barn hold. Marco doesn’t get up, he doesn’t reach for his guns. He does nothing.
He just holds me, not moving at all, and we wait the shooting out.
His guns are near him again, but he doesn’t grab them, not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Do you want to keep talking?” he asks me after a while.
“Yeah.” Anything but the dull pounding of the shots outside the walls of the barn.
So we keep talking.
Eventually, the shooting stops. I’m not sure they know we are inside, maybe that’s why they decided to stop wasting their bullets, who knows? Marco gets up to check the walls and his barricades. They are holding up, but he adds more bulk to them. Then he sits back down, after grabbing two more machine guns and positioning them on the floor, opposite the door. They just sit there, waiting for him to take his position behind them—if he gets the chance.
He sits down beside me.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For the perfectRoman Holidayday. For this. For everything.”
“You can’t be serious.” He turns to look at me, his face a mask of surprise. “You… you don’t thank me. At best, you… you don’t absolutely hate me, even though you should. Even though I’m beyond forgiveness, beyond hope.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell him. “You are so wrong.”
