Turning to glance at Lena was a mistake, but he did, finding that her lips were trembling.
“I already have,” Lena whispered. “And I cannot blame her for trying to protect herself.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that.” Cesare’s hands balled into fists. “Why? Why would you even consider me as I was before? Do you want to resent me? Is that it? Storing up ammunition for the day of my inevitable betrayal?”
Lena started, her mouth dropping open as she quickly shouted back, “That’s not it at all! I was trying to… I don’t know… trying to imagine the kind of despair that would drive a woman to behave like that. It had nothing to do with who you are now. Why are you so angry with me? What did I do?”
“You were kind,” Cesare hissed, more comfortable looking at the wall then absorbing her scorn. “You were kind to me when you should not have been.” A beat of silence. He looked again at the vial on the bedside table, terrible ideas forming in his head.
When Lena finally spoke, it was in a low, deadly whisper.
“What do you want me to say, Cesare? That you were a rapist? A murderer? There! I said it. Happy? Shall we just get it all out in the open? Would that make your tantrum easier to sustain?” She paused, thrashing her hand against a pillow savagely. He was reminded of the moment in the garden when she vowed, passionately, to be his ally. How he wished for those feelings of relief and happiness to return. “You knew this could happen… we both did! You can’t expect me to believe that this is some great surprise! There is no hiding from what happened. Your life, your deeds, these are not closely-guarded secrets. I cannot protect you forever, nor would I. It would be a life of total seclusion, Cesare, and neither of us could bear that.”
Rapist. Murderer.
Cesare cracked, snatching up Leonardo’s precious vial and hurling it against the wall. Lena cried out, scampering off the bed to kneel where a clear stain spread down toward the floor.
“No,” she breathed, a sob breaking through. She tried to pick up the shattered pieces of glass, pricking herself and swearing. Then she seemed to grow intensely quiet, swiveling to stare up at him. “Cesare,” Lena mumbled, her eyelids drooping. He stared at her finger, a tiny bead of blood welling there. His temper fled as he dropped down beside her, catching her as she swayed slightly. She swooned against his chest.
“Tesora... I’m so sorry,” Cesare said, kissing her forehead as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “I don’t… I shouldn’t have shouted at you. And now this…” He trailed off, furious that he had behaved so rashly. “Oh God, Lena, what have I done to you?”
“I don’t…” She tried to reach for his chin, missing. “I don’t feel well.”
Hard, sobering determination descended, clearing the path. Suddenly it was obvious what he had to do. Terrible, but obvious. He should never have let her scheme with those artists. Even if the plan worked it would have led to more misery and hiding. Cesare stood, grunting as his legs complained, phantom pains shooting through his thighs. He carried Lena to the bed, settling her gently under the covers and pressing his hand to her forehead. It was time to take responsibility. It was no longer Lena’s job to shoulder the full weight of their love. He paused to search in her pack, knowing what he was looking for and finding it instantly. The little book felt inordinately heavy in his grasp.
Smiling sadly, he stood and turned back to the bed.
“Someday,” Cesare murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against hers, “someday you will forgive me for this.”
In Name Alone 104/?
“I already have,” Lena whispered. “And I cannot blame her for trying to protect herself.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that.” Cesare’s hands balled into fists. “Why? Why would you even consider me as I was before? Do you want to resent me? Is that it? Storing up ammunition for the day of my inevitable betrayal?”
Lena started, her mouth dropping open as she quickly shouted back, “That’s not it at all! I was trying to… I don’t know… trying to imagine the kind of despair that would drive a woman to behave like that. It had nothing to do with who you are now. Why are you so angry with me? What did I do?”
“You were kind,” Cesare hissed, more comfortable looking at the wall then absorbing her scorn. “You were kind to me when you should not have been.”
A beat of silence. He looked again at the vial on the bedside table, terrible ideas forming in his head.
When Lena finally spoke, it was in a low, deadly whisper.
“What do you want me to say, Cesare? That you were a rapist? A murderer? There! I said it. Happy? Shall we just get it all out in the open? Would that make your tantrum easier to sustain?” She paused, thrashing her hand against a pillow savagely. He was reminded of the moment in the garden when she vowed, passionately, to be his ally. How he wished for those feelings of relief and happiness to return. “You knew this could happen… we both did! You can’t expect me to believe that this is some great surprise! There is no hiding from what happened. Your life, your deeds, these are not closely-guarded secrets. I cannot protect you forever, nor would I. It would be a life of total seclusion, Cesare, and neither of us could bear that.”
Rapist. Murderer.
Cesare cracked, snatching up Leonardo’s precious vial and hurling it against the wall. Lena cried out, scampering off the bed to kneel where a clear stain spread down toward the floor.
“No,” she breathed, a sob breaking through. She tried to pick up the shattered pieces of glass, pricking herself and swearing. Then she seemed to grow intensely quiet, swiveling to stare up at him. “Cesare,” Lena mumbled, her eyelids drooping. He stared at her finger, a tiny bead of blood welling there. His temper fled as he dropped down beside her, catching her as she swayed slightly. She swooned against his chest.
“Tesora... I’m so sorry,” Cesare said, kissing her forehead as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “I don’t… I shouldn’t have shouted at you. And now this…” He trailed off, furious that he had behaved so rashly. “Oh God, Lena, what have I done to you?”
“I don’t…” She tried to reach for his chin, missing. “I don’t feel well.”
Hard, sobering determination descended, clearing the path. Suddenly it was obvious what he had to do. Terrible, but obvious. He should never have let her scheme with those artists. Even if the plan worked it would have led to more misery and hiding. Cesare stood, grunting as his legs complained, phantom pains shooting through his thighs. He carried Lena to the bed, settling her gently under the covers and pressing his hand to her forehead. It was time to take responsibility. It was no longer Lena’s job to shoulder the full weight of their love. He paused to search in her pack, knowing what he was looking for and finding it instantly. The little book felt inordinately heavy in his grasp.
Smiling sadly, he stood and turned back to the bed.
“Someday,” Cesare murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against hers, “someday you will forgive me for this.”