The Secret Lover (L'amante segreto)

The letters

It was nine twenty-seven in the morning, she tidied up her hair, the necessary amount, and headed for the door. As soon as he passed the porch he realized he had forgotten the keys to the pickup truck. He went back and looked for them for several minutes, rummaging through the clothes piled up on the chairs in the bedroom and throwing them everywhere. He found them in the pocket of his beige fringed jeans thrown on the floor in the bedroom.
He walked back to the car and got in. He started the engine and headed to the cemetery, not far from home. He had traveled that road hundreds of times, because it led to the city. But he had not been there since the day of Julia's death. He was in town that fateful day to talk to his publisher.
He arrived at the cemetery about twenty minutes later. He parked the pickup truck in the large clearing strewn with pebbles and pebbles, got out, and headed for the entrance to the large, rusty gate. Tombstones popped up everywhere, some large, some relatively small. Julia's was rectangular and occupied a prominent place sheltered under an old oak tree. For David the position was relevant. He had taken care of the funeral down to the smallest detail. With such maniacal care that he had scared everyone.
He stopped in front of Julia's tombstone with a bouquet of roses in his hand, placed them on the ground and stared melancholically at the photo in the frame. He knelt down and felt the concrete press against his knees, an uncomfortable position, but he paid little attention. He was focused on the tombstone, which was greyish and decidedly dark in colour. With his right hand he touched her embossed birth and death dates, then caressed her photo. Several tears fell from David's eyes.
After a few minutes, with no little effort, he got to his feet. He bent down to take the roses, and placed them in a jar filled with water.
Before leaving, he stopped once again to stare sadly at the tombstone. He took several steps, and his gaze moved to the left, where he saw an elderly lady bending over to add some flowers into a ceramic vase, next to a small gravestone grayed by time. She had a red shawl and a long black skirt. Her thick, curly white hair gave her a carefree look.
David, as if transported by the vision of the woman, approached her and observed for a few seconds the tombstone on which she was praying. It was the headstone of an elderly man who had passed away several years earlier.
She turned, looked at him and said:
«Good morning young man, a beautiful day, don't you think?»
And David, wiping the tears from his face, replied:
«Yes, truly splendid.»
The man walked away greeting her with a nod of his head, and the woman responded with a melancholy smile. The old woman with whom he had just exchanged a few words, and whom he recognized only later, was the old aunt who had raised Julia after the death of her parents, and who on the day of the funeral hugged him so firmly, so engaging, making him cry like a baby.
On the way home, he thought about her constantly. He thought that if he had been at the lake that day too, Julia would have been alive now. He thought that if he hadn't left home to go and talk to his publisher none of what had happened would have happened. He cursed his miserable job as a writer, and cried. Still.

He was walking along the wide avenue carved out of the dirt that led him to his house in the middle of the woods, when in the distance he saw the figure of a tall, blonde woman. It was Rebecca.
He parked a few meters before the veranda, and noticed that the woman was watching him inside the car, with a look full of compassion. David's mind was clouded by a thousand foggy memories. The boat trip, the Sundays spent having lunch at Mick's house, him and Julia in bed, each time crowning with intercourse a relationship with increasingly intense emotional implications every day.
David got out of the pickup truck in a casual manner and, almost showing off a half-smile on his lips, greeted her:
“Hi Rebecca.”
"Hi, David." She said, responding with an unsure hand which she immediately placed back in the pocket of her jeans.
Rebecca had long golden blonde hair. The light blue eyes, which reminded him of the sea, and a candid face, highlighted by a meticulous mouth and nose. The high-waisted jeans, yellow and red T-shirt and white sneakers gave her a sporty tone and emphasized her slim, fit physique. David climbed the steps of the veranda and, staring into her eyes with an uncertain look, waited for a communicative start from her, which arrived.
“I came to ask how you were… and to bring you some things to eat.”
David smiled, looked at the paper bag in his hand, and invited her to come in.
When they were inside, Rebecca placed the bag on the ebony table uncertainly, and at the sight of the empty bottles of alcohol she felt an emptiness in her stomach, and wondered what state she had been reduced to.
“Do you want something to drink, Rebecca?”
“Thank you, but I'm fine, David.”, she replied, gaining confidence as she moved. David poured himself some whiskey into a blown glass, and downed it in a few moments. He sat down in the red armchair and smiled slightly at Rebecca.
“I'm glad you came to visit me. Since Julia has been gone, I see few people. They're all gone."
He immediately regretted saying it. He didn't need to be pitied.
“Not me, Dave.”
Her voice became firm and confident. And she continued.
“I will always be close to you. What happened to Julia… it devastated me too.”
She seemed sincere. For a few moments there was no noise, then she continued.
“Dave, I know it's different for me, and I also know that it's hard for you to believe how much I'm hurting. But I loved Julia almost as much as you. Her death was a terrible blow to all of us.”
Dave didn't know what to say, but he avoided her gaze. Which seemed sincere to him.
Rebecca approached the armchair, and with determination sat down on the armrest to the left of David, who was still and impassive, unable to grasp the meaning of that gesture. The woman bent her back slightly forward, and both of their faces were at a sensible distance from each other.
The tension ran on a frayed thread.
Rebecca brought her mouth closer to David's, and hesitated for a moment, while her lips touched those of the man, who, petrified, was unable to draw back.
In an instant, the tension faded into an intense and passionate kiss, which catapulted the two into a magical limbo of mutual attraction. Rebecca could smell alcohol rising from David's throat, and David felt a flood of smells and emotions invading his senses. Taken by the craziest excitement, despite the uncomfortable position, David lowered his hand, reaching the point of passionately caressing the woman's thigh. Rebecca, for her part, immersed her delicate hands in the man's disheveled hair. The kiss lasted several minutes, with intervals of a few seconds characterized by deep and intense glances of passion.
But right at the most beautiful moment, as the woman was about to touch David's chest with extreme confidence, he moved her hand away. The woman looked at him with the insecurity of a little girl being rejected for the first time. The questioning look and the shining eyes. Rebecca asked him, whispering:
"What's wrong?"
And David, almost sorry:
“I don't know exactly, but it's wrong.”
Rebecca looked at him, wondering the meaning of those words.
“Wrong… Is that what you believe?”
Rebecca was crying. David didn't know what to do, or what to say.
“I don't know what to believe, Rebecca. But I know what we're doing is wrong."
“It's wrong because you think it is!That you are convinced that it is!”
He got up from his chair, wiping his tears. The look had become deep and not at all reassuring.
“I thought there was something between us. I thought there was a possibility.”, she continued.
David sighed and spoke again:
“I'm sorry to disappoint you Rebecca. If you mistook my pain for something else… I apologize.”
Rebecca didn't say anything, she turned quickly and left the house. David, for a moment, thought he had done it forever. But he knew that wasn't the case.
He remained for a few moments slumped in the armchair staring melancholically into space. He got up and headed for the kitchen. He thought about how he had behaved. But what had he done!?
He placed his hands on the sink and thought for several minutes. He had behaved like a coward, he wanted to go out and chase her to apologize. But it was too late. Even if everything between the two of them would have been resolved, those words of his would have echoed eternally in the wind. And Rebecca would never forget them.
While he was frantically washing some dishes, to vent his nervousness, he tried to blame her for everything that had happened. Thus taking advantage, in that moment, of her pain, to try to fill the lack of affection of a strong male figure, after the divorce from her husband. She, his wife's best friend, instead of being close to him and helping him, threw herself into his arms, to save herself from the condemnation of loneliness.
But it didn't work. It was his fault, and his alone. He shouldn't have let himself go, but made it clear how nothing or no one could replace Julia at this moment. And in any case, he shouldn't have acted that way. After all, Rebecca was in as much pain as he was. And he knew it very well.