Counterpoints 2 (Counterpoints #2) Read online

  They were poor back then, those were sad times, right after the second world war. But her grandmother wore a breathtaking smile on her face, so beautiful her grandfather couldn’t stop looking at her. He hadn’t even turned to look at the camera while the picture was being taken. He had been subdued.

  “Yes, that was one of the best days of my life” her grandmother tilted her head to the side, her eyes watery.

  “Look how grandpa is looking at you” Isabella gently elbowed her and smiled.

  “Did I ever tell you we hardly spoke to each other before we got married?” she told Isabella.

  It was normal in those days, she explained, not being able to speak to men that weren’t already part of the family. They had seen each other at mass on Sunday in the local church. In those days, he had been a young carpenter and she was the youngest daughter of a simple farmer. They were both poor.

  “My father wanted me to marry an older man, an army official but I wouldn’t hear of it. I ran away with your grandfather. He came to pick me up one evening with his bicycle. I climbed down my bedroom window and we got married at night in a small church that doesn’t exist anymore” her voice trailed off, her eyes still glued to the picture.

  Her grandmother touched her husband’s face with the tip of her fingers.

  “Do you regret it? Getting married in a haste?”

  “No” she replied “He was the one for me. I was very lucky. We were happy” then her grandmother walked over to the old stove and set the picture back to its place, on a lace doily. “But I didn’t say it was easy being together, either. He was very stubborn your grandfather. I am not going deny it, plates did fly every now and then”

  Isabella grinned.

  Of course, thirty years of marriage could not be all happiness and joy. But Isabella could never forget how devastated her grandmother had been the night her grandfather had passed away. She had felt lost for years. If that wasn’t true love, Isabella didn’t know what else was.

  “So, shall I start guessing or are you going to tell me what’s going on?” her nan asked.

  “Nothing is going on…” Isabella began to say but her grandmother cut in.

  “Are you sick, sweetie?” she enquired.

  “No, nan. I told you, I just really wanted to see you” Isabella said, her voice a little shaky then, her mind still thinking of her grandparents together.

  “Are you eating properly?”

  “Yes”

  Liar, I have just become the queen of liars, Isabella scolded herself.

  Two days of skipping meals and eating junk food at random hours, wasn’t exactly synonymous of eating properly.

  “Problems at work?”

  “Not exactly, no”

  “Then there’s a man involved…” her grandmother declared.

  “It’s not all about men” Isabella said a little offended, not knowing exactly what was there to be offended about. It was about a man.

  “True, but at your age it is mostly about men” her grandma’s eyebrow went up, her face so determined so sure of what she was talking about “Are you denying it is about a man?”

  “No…” Isabella mumbled, after a moment of silence.

  Her grandmother’s openness had caught her off guard.

  “I am just a little confused, that’s all. I am trying to figure things out, trying to…rationally understand what I should do. And move on..” her voice trailed off.

  “Is he married?” her nan asked and Isabella’s eyes went wide.

  “No, nan. It’s not that”

  “You like him but he’s gay?”

  Isabella shook her head.

  “Then there’s another woman” her grandmother pressed on. “It must be, no way he is not interested in you. You are too pretty and smart”

  Isabella smiled and stared at her nan, not knowing exactly what to say.

  Yes, there was another woman, maybe another two or three. She wasn’t sure if it was just about Giselle or if something else had happened behind her back, without her even noticing it.

  “It’s complicated. I am trying to keep away” Isabella said and decided it was all she was going to tell her nan.

  “So you ran here…”

  “I didn’t exactly run here” Isabella looked away and bit her lip.

  Denying the evidence won’t get me anywhere with nan, she was sure of that.

  “Honey, I know you since you were born, changed your diapers and watched you go to school, play, take care of your siblings. You plan everything, when to eat, when to go out. Now you are telling me it’s normal you came here unexpected, for just a day or two. And you want me to believe that nothing is going on” her grandmother placed both hands on her hips and gave her a look from top to bottom.

  Who are you trying to kid, her body language seemed to say.

  “Okay, okay. I came here because I didn’t want to do something stupid. He’s wrong for me and I know it. I want to be in control of my feelings, before going back to work. Satisfied” Isabella tilted her head to the side and smiled a little.

  “Very” her grandmother’s face changed. It got serious “You are an adult so you don’t need my advice. But I want you to keep in mind that not everything can be planned or rationally sorted out, Isabella. Just like there is no such thing as a perfect relationship, no perfect men or women out there. We all make mistakes. What I can tell you” her grandmother took a seat on the couch, slowly and in silence, trying to mask the pain she was feeling in her back- in her old, no good, bones, like she liked to call them.

  “What I can tell you Isabella is that there is no guarantee. You can’t plan certain things. It isn’t an equation, love I mean. You can’t apply rules to it, to relationships in general. It just doesn’t work like that” and she smiled at her granddaughter.

  “Well, I am an adult and I still have no idea HOW it works” Isabella shook her head and managed a smile, even though a lump formed in her throat.

  “Nobody does, honey. But if relationships were easy they wouldn’t be that exciting, would they?” she winked at her granddaughter and Isabella wrapped an arm around her nan. Despite her age, her nan was still the coolest person she had ever met, always dead on bull accurate.

  “Now” her grandmother gave her an scrutinizing look “Having said all the politically correct things an elder lady like me is supposed to say, who do I have to kill to get you smiling again?”

  Isabella grinned.

  Definitely the coolest person I have ever met.

  Chapter 3

  Waiting for Christopher at the airport with the others, pretending everything was okay, had given Isabella stomach cramps. Every time the automatic doors opened, she jumped to the sound, a little startled.

  “Nervous?” Noah had asked, catching up on her mood.

  “A little… for the plane ride” she had mumbled, her cheeks red.

  He had simply nodded, his small, round, inquisitive eyes on her.

  Then the doors had opened again and in had walked Christopher- gorgeous as ever, ruffled hair, more beard than usual, his eyes dark, his face serious.

  Seeing him again a week after their break up, had been just as she had imagined.

  Painful.

  He had said hello to everyone quickly, slapping hands as he walked by, and stopped only to kiss Hillary on the cheeks, as he made his way towards Isabella.

  “Hi” he had said, his penetrating eyes on her like she was the only person in the whole airport.

  “Hello, Christopher” her accent had sounded so nervously Italian just then, she had mentally scolded herself. It happened sometimes, when she was particularly nervous about something.

  “You changed your hair” he had acknowledged. “You look good”

  “Thank you, so do you” the words had gotten stuck half way, Isabella’s voice had lost its strength.

  She had quickly scanned him from top to toe, only to look away again and pretend to be listening to the guys’ conversation near the security check.
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  John had gotten himself a new dog and was showing everyone the pictures on his phone. Isabella leaned forward to check the screen of his cell and smiled.

  He looks exactly the same, she thought to herself, like she expected Christopher to look different for some weird reason.

  With his usual scruff, strong tattooed arms and piercing, green eyes, Christopher looked exactly himself.

  Handsome as always.

  Isabella kept herself busy, her attention elsewhere and moved a little closer to Hillary and Fred.

  Avoid him like the plague, don’t look at him, don’t speak to him too much, Isabella recalled her friend Cristina’s words during their goodbye at the airport in Rome.

  Easy for her to say, Isabella thought, sensing his eyes on her.

  It wasn’t easy, to ignore Christopher. Especially when Isabella’s entire body seemed to react to his presence, like it was the carnival of Rio.

  Damn butterflies!

  “Isabella, take a picture of them like we said. So you can put it on the blog later” Hillary reminded her. “Isabella and I agreed to do this sort of travel journal, where we put pictures of the weekends, of your trips and leisure time before and after the race”

  There was no time to waste, only ten minutes left to boarding time. Christopher had arrived a little late as usual.

  “Let’s take another one, just in case” Isabella said.

  She looked at the photos and nodded. “Great” he looks great… “Thank you, guys” she put the camera back in her bag quickly and walked in silence next to Hillary all the way to the gate.

  Isabella listened to her boss, as she was telling John and Fred about the flat she was trying to buy in Chelsea, looking straight in front of her, doing her best not to trip over or fall to the ground.

  Walk, walk. You are totally cool and in control.

  Her mind was thinking straight, her legs however were shaking and offering little support to the cause.

  Christopher was walking right behind her, she could hear his footsteps. He was so close, Isabella could feel his presence.

  His scent…

  When they reached the gate, some members of the team got in the queue in front of the counter, while Isabella sat down on an empty seat and quickly switched on her laptop. In one minute, she loaded the two pictures and posted them online on the team’s blog.

  I hope Mr. Jenkins isn’t going to complain.

  Honestly, what was there to complain about?

  Then again, Isabella had to admit that catching him in that alleyway in Cannes, sucking face with Hillary, hadn’t been a complete disaster after all.

  If anything, since then he had stayed clear from Isabella. Hopefully the embarrassment would last for another month or two.

  He’s looking at me again.

  Isabella felt his stare before looking up, before meeting his eyes.

  Christopher stood in line, headphones in his ears, eyes on Isabella but no smile on his lips.

  Isabella’s life wasn’t just ironic. It was deceitful.

  When she really wanted something, she never got a fair chance at having it.

  When Isabella tried to avoid a certain situation, a circumstance or a person, destiny seemed to enjoy playing with her head, putting that very thing right in her face.

  One hour on the plane to Toronto, seven left to go, and Isabella’s attempts to keep her mind busy were failing already. She had taken her laptop out of her bag, her mp3 player, her e-book reader.

  As a last chance to have a thoughtless trip to Toronto, Isabella had even selected a movie to watch on the little screen in front of her, but nothing was working. She just couldn’t take her mind off Christopher.

  It’s a little difficult when he’s sitting right across the aisle and keeps looking sideways at me.

  The small corridor that separated them wasn’t enough. The airplane itself wasn’t enough to contain all the feelings bubbled up inside her.

  When they had taken their places, it hadn’t been a problem.

  Hillary and Isabella –who were sitting next to each other- had discussed about work for a while. Whereas Christopher and Fred- who were in the other row- had been deep in conversation about Isabella wasn’t quite sure what.

  One hour later Hillary was fast asleep, sleeping mask secured on her eyes, Fred was watching a movie with his headphones on and had almost dozed off. But not Christopher, not Isabella.

  Where have all the good prepositions gone? No talking to him, no looking at him. Ignore him, focus on work. Where? Out the window, out of the cabin probably.

  She looked in his direction, sensing his eyes on her again. Their eyes finally met and he smiled to the side.

  “Ciao…”

  “Ciao…” she held in her breath and did her best to hide her feelings –her face neutral.

  In three months they had never gone a single day without speaking and now it had been a week.

  “What movie are you watching?” he whispered.

  “I…” Isabella began to say.

  She looked ahead but even John, Noah and the rest of the guys were all snoozing.

  I can’t do this, I can’t have a normal conversation about a movie with him.

  “I don’t want to talk to you” she lowered her voice a little.

  “Isabella…” he started to say but she didn’t want to hear it.

  “Excuse me” she stood up and walked to the back of the plane, without looking back.

  The sound of her footsteps echoed in her head, as she made her way through a half asleep Economy class.

  I wish I could sleep.

  She continued her stride all the way to the back of the plane, her hands rolled up into fists.

  Sure, maybe it had been a tad over dramatic, to walk away from him like that but leaving her seat had been the only solution Isabella could think of, to escape from a conversation with Christopher, when they were both stuck on an airplane together.

  “Excuse me Ms. are you alright?” a flight assistant asked, bumping into Isabella.

  They were standing in front of the toilettes, right at the far end of the plane.

  Isabella peeked in the Economy class kitchen and saw two more flight assistants, preparing meals and heating up coffee and tea.

  “Yes, I am just…I need to use the toilette” she cleared her voice and the flight assistant smiled, but Isabella noticed concern on her face.

  It’s like she just saw a ghost. ME. I must be as white as a sheet.

  Without saying another word, Isabella entered the small bathroom and locked the door behind her.

  The light over the small, rectangular mirror switched on and there she was, the pale and sad version of the girl she used to know.

  I look like I’VE just seen a ghost.

  And maybe it was true, she had just seen a ghost. The ghost of her relationship with Christopher. Or what it was left of it anyway.

  She covered her face, feeling hopeless.

  How was she going to make it through, keep her job, when one word out of Christopher’s mouth and she would have a meltdown.

  Stop it. Isabella wiped her eyes with a tissue and quickly rinsed her cheeks. The water was cold and refreshing, Isabella felt her face go numb a little.

  You are going back to your seat, like nothing happened. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Asserted and verified, done. You are on a business trip. And he is just a man. He is just a man, just a man…

  Isabella bit her lower lip and stared at her reflection in the mirror a moment longer.

  Just a man? Christopher?

  This is just ridiculous, she thought, our relationship lasted what? Three months? How can a three month relationship be doing this to me?

  Isabella couldn’t help but wonder if all the excitement, the thrill, the passion she had felt over the last few months hadn’t sucked all the life out of her.

  How does one recover from someone so incredibly mind blowing like Christopher? And if it was really all over, if the right thing
to do was to move on, why, why was the connection between them still there? Why?

  She could feel the drive, her throat go dry when she spoke to him, her body tense when he was next to her. Why? Why wasn’t it over?

  To Isabella, this was completely virgin territory.

  As memories of their night in Cannes- when they had jumped off that bridge together, in a tight embrace- resurfaced, Isabella pushed them away immediately and locked them up somewhere, where they wouldn’t hurt.

  She decided to go back to her seat.

  Isabella stepped out of the toilette and froze into place.

  Right in front of her stood Christopher, his lips sealed in a thin line, the dimples on his cheeks nowhere to be seen.

  He had followed her.

  Oh my God. Her eyes grew wide, as she looked both left and right, hoping no one would notice them.

  “What…?” Isabella began to say but the words just wouldn’t come out.

  She stood still, motionless and speechless. It felt like she wasn’t breathing, like her heart wasn’t beating.

  “Can we talk, Bresciani?” he asked.

  “What? Here?” Isabella lowered her voice.

  She ignored the butterflies go wild in her stomach, when Christopher had called her Bresciani and checked the aisle quickly.

  From the sounds they were making, the flight assistants were all in the kitchen, setting their trolleys with refreshments.

  Without waiting for Isabella’s response, Christopher took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back inside the toilette.

  Isabella’s breathing grew louder and faster.

  Oh my God, Oh my God.

  He locked the door behind him.

  “What are you doing??” she shrieked, her breathing hysterical.

  They were in a toilette together, on an airplane. Was he crazy?

  He is crazy!

  “Shhh, it’s okay. But keep your voice down” he said, his voice normal, like it was the most common thing in the world, like he had done it before.

  It’s because he probably has done it before, only God knows with who!

  “It’s not bloody okay. We can’t talk here…” Isabella said, her voice a little angry.