“Mama says he is tired and needs to take his medication and rest,” he whispered to Theresa, as they watched the older man protest half-heartedly before allowing himself to be wheeled, for he was in a wheelchair, out of the room with a few last farewells to Sandro and Theresa. Sandro’s hand was squeezing hers so hard that it stopped the blood flow into her fingers but Theresa didn’t protest, knowing that Sandro was probably wondering if it would be the last time he would ever see or speak to his father. They watched in silence as the door closed behind his mother’s ample form before they both suddenly became aware of the fact that another person was in the room on screen. A wizened old woman suddenly plonked herself into the seat, Sandro’s mother had just vacated and Sandro’s entire face lit up.
“Nonna!” He greeted with warm enthusiasm and turned to Theresa, who had already gleaned who the little, old lady was. She was tentatively starting to smile, when the woman suddenly launched into speech, her voice low and furious. Whatever she was saying wiped the smile off Sandro’s face in seconds and she watched as his eyes darkened in fury and his lips tightened in an expression she was more than a little familiar with. He released Theresa’s hand and hissed something equally dire sounding back at his grandmother, who gasped in horror before launching into an even angrier seeming tirade. By this time two younger women, whom she recognised as Sandro’s sisters had stepped into the room and upon hearing whatever it was their grandmother had said added their own two cents’ worth until there was nothing but unintelligible squawks coming from the speakers. Suddenly the old woman’s words turned to English and her eyes were seemed trained on Theresa.
“You make my family miserable! You take my grandson and keep him away from his family, keep him away from his dying father... you nothing but selfish. Why you want a man who no love you? No pride... you no pride. He love a good woman, he no love you!”
Theresa gasped in horror and raised her hands to her mouth, defenceless against the hatred she saw burning in the old woman’s eyes. Her eyes flooded with anguished tears and Sandro swore shakily before saying something soft and dangerous sounding to the three women on the other end of the camera but Theresa had blocked them all out and was struggling to her feet, ignoring Sandro’s desperate protest.
She was out the door and halfway up the stairs before he caught up with her.
“She’s old, cara,” he said desperately, holding onto her arm as she tried to wrest herself away from him. “She’s old and stubborn. What she said was not true.”
“I didn’t make your family miserable?” She asked brokenly. “Of course I did, Sandro. You know that’s true... I didn’t keep you away from them? Or away from your dying father? I did that too. You don’t love me? No news there. You’re in love with someone else? Again. Old news... and she was right. I have absolutely no pride. None whatsoever... if I did I would never have stood for this sham of a marriage. But everything she said was true. So she was just being honest... and that’s my shame to deal with.”
“Theresa, please...” she didn’t know what he wanted from her. She yanked her arm from his grip and found herself teetering desperately on the edge of the step... nearly falling until he yanked her back towards his strong body and braced himself to absorb her weight.
“You foolish woman, stop fighting me and just listen, damn it!” He hissed into her ear... and shocked by her close call she could do nothing but stand trembling in his arms. “She didn’t get it all right; you have more stubborn pride than any person I have ever met. You did not keep me away from my father, I chose to stay.”
“Because of me,” she inserted despondently.
“Because I chose to be with you,” he emphasised but not really seeing the difference, Theresa simply remained quiet. “Don’t you see, Theresa? I wanted to be with you!”
“I’m tired, Sandro,” she finally whispered after a long pause, sending a pointed glance down at the restraining hand he had on her elbow. His grip tightened slightly before he reluctantly released her and stepped back to allow her to proceed up the stairs.
When Theresa woke from a restless sleep a few hours before dawn it didn’t take her long to realise that Sandro was lying in bed with her. His big, hard body was curved around hers, his knees spooning in behind hers. He had one arm curled in under her neck and the other slung heavily across her waist, his large hand cupped protectively over her swollen abdomen. She could feel his deep breath against the nape of her neck, indicating that he was asleep and it had been so long since she’d found herself in bed with him that she allowed herself to simply enjoy his relaxed warmth and closeness without the tension that was usually between them when he was awake. Even before they’d started sleeping apart, he’d never simply held her in his sleep… so this was a novel and overwhelmingly enjoyable experience that she couldn’t deprive herself of. She was just about dozing off again, when the telephone buzzed quietly from the nightstand beside her bed. She jerked slightly her and the movement woke Sandro, who was instantly on alert behind her.
“You okay?” he asked groggily and she nodded just as the phone buzzed again.
“Hmmm... who could be calling at...” she squinted at the digital clock beside the phone. “Four in the morning?” She realised who it could be the instant the question escaped her lips and from the sudden tension in Sandro’s body, she knew that he realised it too. He sat up abruptly and she immediately felt cold, as he leaned over her to yank up the receiver.