“Recreationally?”
“No. After my disgusting behavior in Selinsgrove, Grace convinced me to get help. I was planning to kill myself—I just needed some money to settle my affairs. My night with you changed all that. When they told me there was no one called Beatrice, I assumed you were a hallucination or an angel. And in either case, I thought someone, God perhaps, had shown mercy to me and sent you to save me. Lo seme di felicità messo de Dio nell’ anima ben posta.”
Julia closed her eyes at the sound of Dante’s words from the Convivio. The seed of felicity sent by God into a well-disposed soul.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Scott agreed not to press charges if I went into treatment immediately. So Richard drove me to Philadelphia that same day and checked me into a hospital. After I went through my initial detox, he took me back to Boston and put me in rehab so that I would be close to my…job.” He shifted in his chair.
Julia opened her eyes, a troubled look on her face.
“Why did you want to kill yourself, Gabriel?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what would happen if I brought those old demons back, Beatrice.”
“Are you still suicidal?”
He cleared his throat. “No. Part of my depression was caused by the drugs. Part of it was caused by—other factors in my life that I have tried to deal with. But you know as well as I that a suicidal person is a person who has lost hope. I found my hope when I found you.”
His eyes blazed intensely, and Julia decided to change the subject. “Your mother was an alcoholic?”
“Yes.”
“What about your father?”
“I don’t speak of him.”
“Rachel told me about the money.”
“That’s the only good thing that ever came out of him,” Gabriel growled.
“That’s not true,” Julia said quietly.
“Why not?”
“Because he made you, that’s why.”
Gabriel’s face immediately softened, and he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
“Was your father an alcoholic?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He was the CEO of a company in New York and died of a heart attack. I didn’t care to discover anything else about him.”
“Are you an alcoholic?”
“No.”
Julia carefully folded her linen napkin with shaking fingers and pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m glad you’re not doing drugs, and I’m glad you’re in recovery. But I won’t get involved with an alcoholic. Life is too short to be bound to that kind of misery.”
He stared at her steadily, searching her eyes. “I agree. But if you were to spend time with me, you would realize that I am not an alcoholic. And I pledge not to get drunk anymore. It’s unfortunate that I’ve only gotten drunk once in the past six months and you happened to witness it.”
“My mother went in and out of recovery several times, and she never stuck with it. What happens if you start doing drugs again? Not to mention the fact that you have this delusional vision of Beatrice. I’m not her, Gabriel. You want an ideal, or a drug-induced misperception, not me.”
“I’ve been clean for six years. I didn’t just get out of recovery. Nevertheless, I know that I am deeply, deeply flawed. But I want to know you, just you, as you are. I want you to be yourself, and yes, Julianne, I know you’re more than just a dream. Your reality is far more beautiful and alluring than any dream. I’d choose you over the dream any time.”
A tear slid down her cheek, which she wiped away hastily. “You don’t know me. You never knew me. You held Dante’s Beatrice in your arms that night, the image from his writings and from Holiday’s painting, not me.”
Gabriel shook his head. “What I felt was real. What I did was real.”
“You thought it was real, but that’s part of the illusion.”
“It was real, Julia. It was everything. As soon as I touched you I knew…and when I touched you again…I remembered you. My body remembered you. It was only my conscious mind that had forgotten.”
“I’m not that little girl anymore. And the woman I am you despised on sight.”
“That is not true. You’ve grown into a lovely young woman.”
“You want a pet kitten.”
“No, Beatrice.”
She spoke through clenched teeth. “Stop calling me that.”
“I’m sorry, Julianne. I know that I hurt you. I know I have a dark side. Will you let me show you that I can be good? Very, very good?”
“It’s too late. I can’t.” Though it pained her to do so, she walked to the front door, grabbing her knapsack and her coat on the way.
“What about last night?” he asked, striding after her. “Did that mean nothing to you?”
“What should it have meant? Tell me!” She hugged her knapsack close to her chest and backed up against the wall.
He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and leaned closer. “Do I have to explain it? Didn’t you feel it?”