Chapter Forty-Seven Rory

Car’s here,” Nate announces at the rumble of an engine in the circle drive.

“Whose car?” I ask.

He shrugs, zips up his carryall. “Ror…”

“One sec.” I draw a breath. I know—have known—he wants to talk. Have the talk.

I watch the concierge—who came as a package deal with this insane villa—outside, conferring with the driver. When the concierge returns, she says, “Transportation to Naples Capodichino for Signorina Caroline and Signore Nate.”

Caroline emerges down the staircase, crosses the terra-cotta foyer, and stops beside me in the entry, beneath the frescoed dome.

She squeezes my arm. I allow it to be squeezed.

“We’re okay?” she asks.

We’ve already talked—ad nauseam at this point.

“We’re okay,” I confirm, surprised every time I say it that I actually mean it. It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still hurt. That everything that happened this week won’t take a very long time to process and heal. But Caro is my sister—always has been, always will be. And we all do things we wish we could change, make happen another way.

I flash back to the moment when I launched a crystal ice bucket into my brother’s head. I brace myself on the oak entry table.

“Really, though. Are you really okay?” Caro leans over to hug me, and I allow myself to be hugged.

“Yes. No.…” We break apart.

“Hey, Ror, are you sure…?” Caro gestures at Nate, her cheeks turning pink. “You sure it’s okay we’re traveling together? You know it’s only to the airport.… It means—”

“Nothing. I know. It’s fine.”

“Not just that it’s fine, Ror. Because, honestly, we can take separate cars—”

“Please don’t.”

“Ror…” Nate is at my side.

“Okay.” Caro’s eyes flitter from Nate back to me. Her phone blips, and she studies it.

“More news?”

She looks up a bit guiltily. I know she’s been hiding it from me—what they’re saying on all the main channels, in the gossip rags, too. Last night I finally did a Google search, and it was pretty horrific. Not just the bare facts, that my brother died at my hands. But also how deep his fraud went. That one patient in his study died under mysterious circumstances. Circumstances that will now be thoroughly investigated. It’s bizarre; I can remember participating in the frenzy on the other side. Like when the Theranos scandal hit, as a reporter, it was gold. But now I’m a sister.

And what makes everything even more excruciating is facing up to the fact that Max’s vaccine doesn’t work. That it won’t—will never—cure Papa.

“I’ll handle everything,” Caro says, standing up straighter now. “You can count on me, Ror. And I’ll see you in Michigan. Love you so much.”

“Yeah. See you in Michigan. Love you, too.”

Caro squeezes my arm, then disappears into the white Mercedes.

“Ror, are you sure you’re fine on your own here?” Nate sweeps a hand through his curls.

“Yes. I’m fine, Nate. I’ve been fine on my own, for months now.”

“I know.” He gives me a sheepish frown. “I—I don’t know what to say. I want to be here for you now. With… you know—”

“I know.” I need him to stop, before he says my brother’s name. I just need to get through this day. Then get on a plane, go see Papa. Break the news—I can’t fathom how—that Max is gone.

That I’m responsible for his death. There goes that crushing sensation across my sternum, like an elephant stampede on my chest.

“Ror, do you think… is there any chance left for us? It’s not fair of me to ask you now, is it?”

“But you’re still asking it,” I say softly.

“Huh?” He cocks his head, his brown eyes surprisingly warm. It’s like I’d forgotten that Nate is kind, that he cares about me—reinvented things, maybe. When he left me, gave up on us, it was easier to reimagine him as the devil incarnate.

I sigh. “I don’t know is the answer to your question. It’s really all I can do right now to put one foot in front of another.”

“Of course! I mean… that… of course you… but when you’re back in LA—”

“I don’t know that I’m going back to LA.” I put all my stuff in storage. Of course, I thought I’d return. I’ve lived there for a decade, practically the whole of my adulthood.

“You’ll find another anchoring job, Ror! You can’t give up on your dreams.”

“I don’t know if they were my dreams.”

He looks mystified. “Of course they were your dreams. You’ve been working toward being the main anchor on an evening news show ever since I met you.”

“I don’t know.” How to explain it, that I’m not sure if I’ve wanted this because it was a pure desire, or if Papa planted the seeds and I ran with it? “I’m thinking of taking a course to become a meditation teacher.”

“Really?”

I smile faintly at his tone.

“Not disparaging it. Not at all. If that’s what you want. But, like, isn’t that more a… side thing?”

“Not if I want it to be a full thing. There’s so much stress out there—wars, fights. I covered it every day, and it starts to seep into your pores, you know?”

“I know.”

I nod. Of course. Of anyone, Nate knows deeply what I mean. We had that in common, our common mission to try to make the world a better place. But since the meditation retreat, I can’t stop wondering if there isn’t a different angle to come at it from.

“If we want a happier world, I think we need happier people. And meditation dissolves stress. It makes you feel a little brighter and shinier when you come out of it. More optimistic.” I pause, wondering if he thinks I’m being trite or na?ve, and then decide I don’t care. “Anyway, I don’t know exactly what I want to do. That’s the point right now. All I do know is I don’t want to be anyone’s main character again. Okay? I need to write my own script.”

“Of course. Okay, of course. I just… I’m here, Ror. I really… I want us back. I want you to forgive me, for cracking when I should have stayed strong. For Caro… that was the dumbest—”

“I forgive you,” I tell him, and realize I mean it. “But—”

“Is your but about… Gabriele?” Nate grimaces. “I mean, I know something was up between you two. I have to ask.”

“He’s texting me, I’m not going to lie. Obviously, he is. Checking in after all that’s happened. We’re friends, Nate, and beyond that, I have no clue. To be frank, it’s really none of your business.”

“Right. I lost that privilege, didn’t I?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I watch him fiddle with that ratty bracelet that’s still on his wrist. The one that I wove him. It makes me smile slightly, but it doesn’t change how I feel inside. That now I need empty space, freedom. To be beholden to no one but myself. To build my life back brick by brick, allowing for the possibility it’s all going to look different when I choose it anew.

“Nate, do you know KonMari?”

“No. Should I?”

“It’s that minimalist woman, Marie Kondo. She has a Netflix show. She teaches you to get rid of your stuff.”

“Okay?”

“Well, the way she does it is you have to go through your closets and drawers. Lay it all out—everything you own—on the bed. And then assess if it sparks joy. If you want it back in your life.”

“Oh,” he says flatly. “So you’re saying you need to lay me out beside all your bras, basically, and decide if I spark joy?”

“I guess,” I say quietly. “I need some time.”

“I never should have…” His eyes cast down. “I wish I could erase the last four months. The last four months never should have happened.”

“Well, they did happen. They did, and I—” I break off, thinking of Max, and the loss and guilt and immense sadness barrels at me.

“I wish I could take your pain away.”

“I know.” I try to shove it all back, away, until I’m alone, until I make it through this day. Meeting Orsola—the love of Papa’s life. This day is important, and I want to be present for it.

Nate smiles his crooked Nate smile—sad, familiar. “Well, I’m here, Ror. And if you decide I spark joy, you have my number. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Nate!” Caroline’s back in the entry. “We need to go.” Her eyes flit at me. “And, Ror, the car taking you and Ginevra to Le Sirenuse is here.”

“Right.” I take a deep breath. “Time for us all to go.”

I hug Nate, but I don’t sink into him—not like before. Then I watch my best friend and ex-fiancé walk out the door.