Of course, no rocks in Los Angeles. You had to buy fucking rocks. Sick place, this, where you couldn’t find a rock to break a window. I lifted a flat flagstone from the path, exposing fat white grubs and a sprinkling of ants.
I tapped the stone. I loved that woman. She was as much mine as a part of my body, and she was upset about Valentina. I understood that. Sure, who wouldn’t be upset? But my wife had nothing to do with her. With us. With the fact that I couldn’t think about what to do about Valentina, or the son I hadn’t known I had, or anything, with Theresa on the other side of a wall “Theresa,” I called as I put the stone on the windowsill and climbed up. I heard the shower running, and Theresa was nowhere to be seen. Good. I wouldn’t have to ask her to move to the back wall. Clinging to the siding and the wood window frame, I touched the rock to the top edge of the bottom window. Tap. Tap. Then something stronger, until the window cracked. I pressed the stone to the glass, and the crack widened into a poorly-defined web. A chunk popped onto the bathroom floor.
She poked her head past the curtain. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair stuck to her face. “Antonio, just leave me alone.”
I reached up and in, twisting the lock. “No. I’m not leaving you alone. Never.”
I slid the window up and crawled into the bathroom. My shoes hit the floor when she turned off the water, and I snapped the curtain open. She faced me, skin textured in drops of water, and she covered herself, ashamed of her nakedness.
“Put your hands down.”
“I need space.”
“You do not. You need to come back to me naked. That body you cover? It’s mine. Every centimeter of it.”
She shook her head and looked down into the middle distance. “I saw her. When she came into the room. I was behind the mirror.”
I took mental inventory again. The moment when I saw Valentina… what had I done? Had I kissed my wife? I didn’t think so. Had I held her? What had my expression been in that moment when all my grief and vengeance came to nothing?
“I know. Did Brower do this? Did he make you watch? Because I’ll kill him.”
“No,” she said. “I forced my way in. He tried to get me away. But I’m glad I saw. I wouldn’t have believed it otherwise.”
“Believed what?”
“Can I get dressed?”
“No.”
“She’s your fate. I’m just a distraction.” Her face dropped, fell apart, and she started crying. Her hands left her breasts and the space between her legs and covered her face.
I wanted to punch whoever had made her cry. I wanted to avenge her every pain, but how could I take vengeance on myself?
“Contessa…” I put my arms out for her.
“Don't touch me!” she shouted as if I were a scorpion in her bed. “You don’t get it. You don’t belong to me. You never did. We didn’t know. All right, that’s fine. But I won’t be the one to break a marriage. That’s forever, Antonio. Forever. Until death. You really need to think about that.”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
She stepped out of the tub, and I stopped her.
“Aspetta,” I said, looking around the floor. I pulled up the blue glass-coated rug and flipped it. The underside was safe. I put it in front of the tub and moved out of her way when everything in my body told me to get in her way. “Step on that.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Your feet are bare. There’s glass all over.”