The End

Wednesday, 15th December 1993

Dear Giulia,

finally your voice.

It helps me to know things are going well at office, that time spent at work helps you to relax; Sam told me about your progresses, as well as about your persistent back pain never abandoning you.

When they came to look for me I was in the middle of an agitated meeting, where I was reciting Miguel's bad temper, as only Miguel can do; not everyone can get angry in another language, have you ever tried? Yet with Estelle I did a lot of exercise on the subject. New terms for fighting were missing and the unexpected gong saved me; I got up and I headed towards the phone, still angry, thinking it was him, eager to know about the end of the encounter, imagine my astonishment when I realized the surprise.

I can see you now: you and Sam, Diana and Melissa, working again together, with passion and friendship. Even Oscar, thanks for having supported him today in front of those unfair women; I'm part of the best working team I could desire, don't you think Boss Heidi? Luckily you help me to keep everything together, because guiding Oscar from here is complicated; I want to do it, yes, at least where I don't fear his competition, but on the rest, considering the distance, the time zone and the many activities in progress, sometimes it becomes a real utopia. Miguel that day didn't want to understand and discharged all the weight of his decision on my shoulders, damned him and that 51% he uses to slap me without regret.

But Giulia doesn't give up and keeps everything together in my place without showing off, making me forget in a few seconds the fatigue felt during these long days spent without receiving any news from her.

I know why it happened, you want me to tell you about my progresses with Estelle as promised, that I don't lose my direction in this December so dark. Even though in my daily messages I didn't do it enough, I confirm you that's exactly what it's happening, and from the next words you'll understand how the first results finally appears at the horizon. I hope so doing to resemble more and more to the person you desire, as you already are for me today.

The United States are an immense country, now Estelle is thousands kilometres away from her family, her friends, her house and her work; I believe she's finally realizing I can't be the magic difference compensating whatever she's missing. Only her can be.

Even though she doesn't openly confess it to me she's uncomfortable, and the fact that she is constantly looking for my approval on everything is the most evident demonstration of this. She doesn't need my permission to rent a car or to go to the cinema, I'm not her master and also economically she's completely independent; yet she does, yet she accepts my decision so different from hers.

Estelle is weak, constantly looking for supports and departures to sustain herself. Looking at her I feel tenderness, like the first time we met and I decided to accompany her at destination. The same way I'd like we said each other good-bye, like friends.

To write you all this I rape myself, like ripping out living flesh from the bones, because the most recurring thought I make of her is that she betrayed and abandoned me, totally careless of the immense suffering she was throwing against me, blind and selfish, her recurring features even now, I force myself also not to notice it.

I'm fond of her but I'll never forgive her.

Guilty as much as your biological father but much more fragile, the real reason why I took choices so different from theirs, leading me again towards you.

After the first resistances, things are improving.

We often talk, especially in the evening after my dinner; having suspended her therapy to follow me here it's a necessary step but also my desire, I don't hide myself.

We talk without arguing, more and more aware of our mutual shortcomings. But we never discuss about her betrayal, this fact subtracts the main truth to our relationship already so precarious.

However she's doing her best on everything else, she deserves to be rewarded. Yesterday I held her hand, even embraced her. She didn't demand anything more, I don't care to know why.

Today when I came back from work Estelle didn't carry the wedding ring anymore. And the table was set; she cooked, the pasta, mixing the spaghetti to the cold water and leaving them on the fire until she heard the doorbell ringing; she sat down with me and ate what I nicknamed 'a pile of carbohydrates', we laughed a lot about it.

I hugged her again, on my own initiative.

She cried, not of love for me, of her progresses.

All this happened just a few hours ago and I'm satisfied of it. While I'm writing you she's looking at me from the sofa, I don't hide it to her anymore; it's almost one a.m. but as long as I don't go to sleep she keeps me company, then she gives me back the sofa and reaches the bedroom, alone. Now she's smiling, I guess she's supposing I'm telling you about our strange dinner. Maybe she's also thinking when the opposite happened this summer, maybe she had finally realized my passion for writing doesn't know season.

Don't be sad about all this Giulia, we're a lot more together, and if I weren't so honest I'd just look like a liar.

You often share our home with Sam too, even our bed; this thought makes me nervously hold the head between my hands, as much as I feel it's the right thing to do.

You kissed and caressed each other several times, not for pity, and I'm afraid it will happen again; an intimate rabid voice I struggle to keep calm, a feeling having nothing to do with Elia's trust, a feeling called love, and you know, I love you so much.

This our working separately but in the same way for other good joins us, it's the thread bonding our souls, the ring marrying our lives. To make it I decided I must look at it in this way.

Always with you,

Marco