Italy- Confessions

Hey everyone,

Here's continuing my Paris story...I thought I'd post this before running to the gym,thought it would be good as an afternoon read.

Enjoy!

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She had to force herself to rise the next morning.

She spent the last two days, reliving the past night in her head, but today she had to make her move; she had to decide.

His words rang an alarm in her head; she did indeed feel for him.

Very much so.

His voice in her ear as he told her she was his.

It had made her shiver with excitement and fear all at once; she had never felt this much -anything in a long time.

He had beckoned her corpse from its tomb of nothingness and took her to the world of contrasting past and the unexpected, he was her past and everything she did not expect him to be.

Her eyes found the number of the concierge, and instructed them in a husky voice of recent awareness that she needed someone to pick her bags up, later she sat down to write a telegram in it she wrote the following:

"I do not know what to do or think, but I will be back."
she hesitated in writing her address in Milan for fear that he might take it upon himself to follow her there, but she threw out that possibility.

He had too much pride for that.

Soon she made her way into the shinny black Benz parked infront of the hotel entry, her Louis Vuitton classic trunks rolled behind her.

As the car rolled through the stylish bends, her gaze slipping outside looking out the familiar lanes, knowing the streets by heart, having familiarized herself with most of them some years back.
Looking upon gaping tourists, to stylish Parisian women in fur coats, and finally to well dressed gentlemen lounging in open coffee shops, she distinctly found herself smiling at a memory.

A movie she recalled, in it there was a line said by one of the actors;
"We will always have Paris."

Indeed we will, she thought agreeing to it in an instant.


She had finally made to her destination abroad the private jet, though it was hours later she clearly realized the task at hand.

Divorce him, I'll take you back in a minute.

She closed her eyes once more to recall his exact wording of the phrase, her heart had thumped like a lovelorn teenager then.

Can it really be that easy?

When her eyes opened again, she was thrown into a wondrous surrounding that was Milan, the animated streets were ones she had only read in books and saw in movies, her lips lifted in a still smile, strangely though she had found no pleasure watching such splendor, her heart did not beat the same way it did when the images of him had flashed through her mind, the way she imagined him next to her, wrapping his fingers through her dark hair as he looked out at the buildings and streets that had inspired her all this time.

The Images in her mind looked so vivid that inclined herself to turn to her left, , her white Hermes laid discarded but there was nothing more.

She swallowed the bile coming back through her throat, and blinked her agony away, what torture was this?

Belonging to a man through a contract, and another through the writings of her heart.

The world was said to be cruel but she had never imagined it to be a cruelty such as this, she clenched the air on her palm, manicured nails digging into flesh, she was at a crossroads now.

And she had to make a decision soon, for at the entrance of the stylish villa, stood a man in his late fifties, tall and distinguished, he looked upon the approaching vehicle with hawk like eyes, though not unkind.

When she had emerged with the usual dash of saucy female her voice ringing all flirty approach, "Darling!" she called.

She found herself in his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then with a tut tut of soiling him with her lipstick, she quickly wiped the red stains off his face and gave him a lingering smile.

I have to play this right.

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It was two days later of lounging in the luxurious villa, her gaze fixated upon the Turquois waters of the lake, her husband had indeed made her yearnings true, the magnificent view beyond her was all that she had dreamed and expected of Italy.

Her hair was drawn up in a bun; she still wore her nightdress and robe, not feeling like coming out of her room just yet.

Her breakfast tray lay untouched, and her mind churned with the memories of him, her palm touched her lips as if to stifle another sigh.

How in the world would she start to tell him?

Would he strike her?

Feminine reason argued that she did not have to tell him the whole truth, just make up an excuse for him to finally end this…


But how could she do that to him?

He was everything from dear and kind to her, if he had been mean and unjust with her this would've been so easy; yes he had been strict with her sometimes, like a teacher with a bright student, trying to bring out the good in them, he had always showed her the best of life, when her father had passed away, he barged into her old room of girlish memoirs, saw her clutching the old photograph of her father with the Eiffel tower behind him her tears staining the crumpled paper. He had decided to ship her there after a few weeks of mourning, to recuperate; to finally make peace with the loss of her parent.

Do no linger on memories, child.

She remembered him saying before he kissed her goodbye, She had felt like a worthless orphan but he had picked her up and mended her to be strong, a true lady of character.
And now she had gone to reminisce on an old love of hers.

I'm awful.

It was a knock on the door that roused her from her thoughts; she looked towards the door with a sunny smile.

"You look beautiful." He said, coming to sit down across from her, his white hair combed and righted, a handkerchief in his breast pocket; he was such a strict dresser unlike her.

"Thank you, love." she said softly, already going to pour him a cup of tea, he had accepted it with a smile, his eyes warming at the sight of her, a few of his family and friends had seen him like this, from afar everyone saw the pair of them as daughter and father, upon close inspection one would call they're arrangement "A marriage of benefits."; A match between an old billionaire and a young beauty, but they both knew they had something more than that, an understanding, yes, she couldn't say her marriage was barren of benefits, when her friends had to save up for shopping trips, and mythical holidays, she had to simply snap her fingers for it to happen.

She never blushed about her good fortune, never really looked upon it as a regret, until now…

"You know, the other day I came across a friend of mine."

"Oh…In paris?" he asked half interested.

"Yes, she said she dreamed of father, he said he told her to get a divorce."

"From the looks of it, she wants to file for divorce, and had made up that story of a dream to have your support." he said, quickly assessing her imaginary friends story as a ruse.

"I don't know, but I must say she had succeeded, I told her if one of the partners wants it to be over, its over." she said wisely.

"Yes, that is true." he said after thinking over it for a moment.

"Anyhow. “ He continued, quickly wanting to end the disturbing matter, for he could see his dear wife had gone a bit pale of retelling the trifle story to him. "I had arranged to go on a boat ride today, I thought to take you out to see the sights"

"Oh no, darling. I don't feel well today." she said, quickly throwing the idea out, she was never one for long boat rides, the feel of the tide swaying the metal leverage always made her uneasy, besides she couldn't continue this charade of being the virtuous wife.

She felt rotten and sinful all the way.

He deserved to know.

"Actually I have something to tell you." she said putting her teacup back on the saucer.

"Hm?" said her husband giving her a courteous smile, the crow feet at the corner of his eyes deepening.

"That story I told you…I meant it for us. I think we should get one."

It was a long moment of forbidding silence before he replied.

"Get what?"

"A divorce." she said watching the jaw clamp with emotion.

"Your Insane." he said.

"I really do think it’s the fair thing to do." she replied in the most polite tone she could conjure.

"Fair? Fair!" he repeated looking at her like she had lost her wits, "You marry me with your fathers consent, then when he passes on, you lose yourself in your own sorrow and come back to me asking for a divorce?"

She realized then that he thought she had been speaking from the aching sorrow she had felt for her father’s death.

"You shouldn’t think of it like that, I do feel its the right thing for us." she said softly putting a hand over his own aging one.

"You already have your children, your first wife. I feel its time for me to move on, be those things I could never be to you, a mother of my children." she said trying to show him reason with her decision.

He gave her a knowing look then. "So…there's someone else." he said, it wasn't a question, but a conclusion. "Is this your friend? The one you spoke of?"

Oh god.

She was cornered now, she did not know if answering with the affirmative would bring the matter to close, but she was making him angry and it wouldn't do to his health.

"That’s not the issue." she argued.

"That's all the issue, you never complained about our arrangement, you never cared for children in fact you were thankful you wouldn't have any, or do you not remember our wedding night?" he said cruelly.

She deserved every word.

"Or was the Oscar De la Renta too comfortable? “he asked referring to her wedding dress, she turned every shade of pink at the mention of that, she had been a fanciful girl then, thinking that luxury was all that mattered in life, throwing away anything that made her feel, made her too weak, she had sold her very Humanity without even knowing it.

"Its over. “she replied simply to his stabbing words.

"We'll see about that." he said softly, already excusing himself.

It was a week later when she dared ask for him again.

One of the servants looked at her like she was daft, he spoke to an upper servant in Italian and the later came back to her bearing his master's whereabouts.

"The sir is with his family, they go with him to Ospedale." he said in broken English.

It was the last word he spoke that made her eyes widen, and her heart beat faster.

Ospedale?

"To the hospital?" She repeated searching they’re features for confirmation.

Both of the servants nodded.

“Si, Signora.”

Please god, don't let his fall be my burden…I cannot bear it.

She clenched her eyes shut in a flinch, then opened them once more with new resolve, she had to see him, civil rules be damned.



To be continued