Chapter 9 - What My Daughter Had Been Calling Care
Marco did not deny the alarm alerts.
He explained them.
That was different.
Camilla put him on speaker while I stayed across the room.
“I added it after your tire blew on Route 7.”
“That was two years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You added the alerts last year.”
“You started leaving after fights.”
“Going for drives.”
“At one in the morning.”
“I am an adult.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you'd turn them off.”
The sentence sat there.
Marco heard it.
Nobody needed to interpret.
He tried again.
“I worried.”
Camilla said:
“I believe you.”
That answer kept disrupting him.
He expected accusations he could fight.
Belief gave him nowhere to hide.
She continued:
“I believe you were worried.”
“Then—”
“And I didn't consent.”
He stopped.
She said:
“I need you to understand those can exist at the same time.”
Marco was quiet.
Then:
“I’m removing it.”
“Thank you.”
“Camilla.”
“What?”
“You're making this sound like I built a surveillance room.”
“No.”
“Because I didn't.”
“I know.”
“You left without saying where you were going.”
“Sometimes.”
“You shut me out.”
“Yes.”
“You punished me with silence.”
Her face changed.
That one was true.
“Yes.”
Marco continued:
“You slept at Nina's and refused to answer me for almost an entire day.”
“Fourteen hours.”
“That's an entire day when your wife disappears after saying maybe the marriage is a mistake.”
Camilla sat down.
“I was wrong to do that.”
Marco went silent.
She continued.
“I should have told you I was safe and needed space.”
His voice softened.
“Thank you.”
“But me doing that doesn't give you permission to track me.”
“No.”
He said it quietly.
No argument after.
Camilla looked at me.
I looked away.
This was theirs.
Marco asked:
“Are you coming home?”
She took a breath.
“No.”
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Don't punish me for giving you the true answer.”
“I need something.”
“I know.”
“I can't live in indefinite.”
“Neither can I.”
He was quiet.
Then:
“I made an appointment with someone.”
Camilla's expression tightened.
“A therapist?”
“Yeah.”
She almost smiled.
“What?”
“You hate therapy.”
“I hate being asked how things make me feel.”
“That is an unfortunate conflict.”
Marco laughed once.
The sound surprised both of them.
Then he said:
“I don't want to become my father.”
Camilla looked at the phone.
“That can't be the reason you change.”
“What?”
“If your goal is not becoming Anthony, every conversation will still be about him.”
Marco did not answer.
Camilla continued.
“Figure out who you want to be.”
A long silence.
Then:
“Do you still love me?”
I looked toward the window.
Camilla took her time.
“Yes.”
Marco exhaled.
She added:
“That doesn't answer whether I'm coming back.”
His breathing caught.
“No.”
For once, he didn't force the two questions together.
After the call ended, Camilla sat for several minutes.
Then she looked at me.
“Mom loved you when she left.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“I knew she said it.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
I smiled faintly.
“No.”
She looked toward the stairs.
“The letter says it plainly.”
“I know.”
“Did that make you think she'd come back?”
“At the time?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Did you use it against her?”
I remembered.
Not proudly.
“I told her people don't leave someone they love.”
Camilla closed her eyes.
“What did she say?”
I heard Elena.
People leave people they love every day, Domenico. Sometimes because staying changes who gets to make decisions.
Camilla looked at me.
“That sounds like her.”
“Yes.”
She looked toward Marco's last email.
“Did Mom forgive you?”
I thought about seventeen more years of marriage.
Our anniversaries.
Arguments.
Trips.
Her cancer.
The night before she died when she complained about hospital pudding and told me not to become sentimental because she'd haunt me.
“I don't know if she ever gave me one final answer.”
Camilla frowned.
“You stayed married.”
“Yes.”
“Isn't that an answer?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
That surprised her.
May you like
I continued.
“It was seventeen years of answers.”
