Don't Shoot the Messenger

Part 23 - a phone call

1459   words 

*edited

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Claire's POV

Sunday morning I awake with a stretch and when I open my eyes I am surprised to see Alissandru had brought a chair by the bed and is sitting there in his gray robe watching me... "What are you doing?"  "I like watching you sleep." "You look tired." He shrugged, "I woke up last night and couldn't go back to sleep, so I did some work." "Then get back in bed" I reach my hand toward him, but he doesn't reach back. "Claire... is there anything you don't want to tell me, that you think you should?" My heart beats faster as my hand drops. I search his impassive face for a clue where this was coming from.

I couldn't tell him the truth. A lie? All I had to do was say "No"...but remembering the night he interrogated me, utterly confident of his ability to read me with life and death on the line... He would see the lie and it would make things worse. I settle on a partial truth: 

  "I agreed to stay longer than 6 weeks, but I never said I would stay until the end of July. I may have to go before then and I didn't want to make promises I might not be able to keep. I don't want to talk about why." I sigh. "Everything ends, lover."  I cannot call him 'my love' while I speak of leaving him. "But we can pretend a while longer."  

  "What are we pretending?" He asks softly, his voice thick with some emotion concealed from his face. "That I don't have to go... Please don't ask me any more - help me to forget." I reach for his hand again and he comes willingly into my arms; we are almost late for church after.  

.......

We saw the local Venetian rowing associations parade in costume down the Grand Canal. After a light lunch, I insist that he take a long nap. He says that more than 3 hours will make it hard to sleep tonight and it will take days to get his sleep cycle reset. Tossing his jacket onto the chair, he walks to the bed. He empties his pockets and slips off his tie and shoes before laying down. He sits up in a hurry as his phone rings and I tap to disconnect the call. "I'm expecting an important call!" "If it is important they will call back. 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep – or else!" I pocket his phone and he sighs but submits, closing his eyes. I close the door behind me without a sound.  

I head back into the kitchen. Stress cooking or stress eating? Both. I pull out butter and chocolate chips and preheat the oven to 177 C.   I've creamed the sugars and am about to add the vanilla when his phone rings. I hesitate, wondering if I should pick up long enough to say he is unavailable for a few hours. I see the caller ID- his cousin Vincento. "Hi."    "Claire? How are you?"  "I'm fine. Alissandru was up late-or early- catching up on some work, so he's taking a nap. I'll let you talk to him in 3 hours. He needs the sleep." 

"All right. I haven't seen you since you came to dinner that night. What have you guys been up to?" "Do you want the fun stuff or the disaster reel?"   "Disaster reel? What's the worst?" "Alissandru told me that a close friend died in a drunk driving accident. I've been feeling a little guilty as well as grieving; the last time we spoke I said some things that upset him. I'll never know for sure if that's why he was drinking. It had to be said and he's the one who chose to drink and drive, but still..."   "I'm sorry."  "Yeah."