| Subject: Chapter 32 (super long) |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 20:22:12 04/04/01 Wed
In reply to:
Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 09:29:32 04/03/01 Tue
Don't run away from your problems.
David paid admission to Pompeii and was promptly absorbed into an English-speaking tour group. He kept behind the elderly American women in tennis shoes and umbrellas -- the day was sunny, but they were prepared -- and thoughtfully trailed further and further behind, gradually leaving the giggly group taking pictures of a bordello.
He glanced up. Along the tops of the walls were small projections, marking the way to the prostitutes' headquarters. He got his bearings -- after all, he could be mistaken and have to find his way back -- and set off, glancing at his map periodically.
He headed for the edge marked on the map. Beyond that was undiscovered territory, which visitors were forbidden to wonder around in. The archeologists fenced the unsafe part and locked it up so curious tourists couldn't hurt themselves while exploring.
David sighed, tucked the map in his pocket, glanced around quickly, and climbed the fence.
The paths weren't cleared here. He got away from the fence -- and from any passersby that might spot him -- and gingerly picked his way over the overgrown, tumble-down parts of Pompeii visitors never saw.
It was quiet. Birds sang, fluttering from trees that had grown into the rubble. Brindled stray cats dozed in the sun, briefly waking to give David suspicious looks. He wondered around for nearly an hour and was considering giving up when he heard voices.
"-- nice, that's for sure. Better than the big one in the museum in Naples. Let's try to clear the edges --"
"Reminds me of the ones in Herculenium, doesn't it you?"
"Yeah, a bit. Colors are brighter here, though."
Then David heard Milla's voice: light, clear, interested in the project. "What did you say the measurements are again? I want to do this to scale --"
David followed the voices and finally emerged on what looked like an interior courtyard of what had once been a villa. The workers were in the process of clearing debris, but even from where he stood, he could tell this would be quite a find. A small, dry fountain with a statue stood in the center, and around the fountain was an intricately laid out mosaic of flowers, fruit and birds. David sucked in his breath. It was lovely, even encrusted with dirt. Once it was cleaned --
"Hey!"
David turned toward the voice and found a half-dozen people staring at him.
"You're not supposed to be here!" said one of the workers indignantly.
Milla glanced up. She was squatting on the mosaic, graph paper spread out in front of her. She was filthy, even dirtier than the first day he'd met her. She was thinner, too. Her cheeks, instead of being round and rosy, were flat and dusty, and the waist of her pants was pleated where her belt hitched it up. Her eyes widened and she slowly rose. "David?"
"I came to talk to you," David said.
Milla waved to the other workers. "It's okay. He's ... a friend."
"Yeah?" said one of the other dirty people. "Well, tell your friend that --"
"I just came for Milla," David said mildly.
"What is it?" Milla tucked her pencil behind her ear and came towards him, frowning as she tucked her notes into her back pocket.
David backed up a little, so they were out of hearing from the others. "It's time for you to come home."
"Forget it." Milla took a step backward.
"Milla --"
She paled suddenly. "Did anyone die?"
"Milla, no. But your mother needs you."
"She's got Michael." Milla dismissed him and turned back toward the mosaic.
"Sara's going to deliver pretty soon," said David. "She'd sure like you to be there. And your mother will have her transplant when Sara's baby is born."
"Transplant?" Milla whipped back again. "Transplant for what?"
"A nerve transplant. Sam's brother is going to do it. I overheard him talking on the phone to Sam last night. It's a tricky thing, Milla."
"Sam's brother is at the Lucia?"
"Yeah. So is Sara. Sam's due back in a few days."
"So ... what's involved in a nerve transplant?"
"Come home and see."
"No." She frowned, stubborn. "I won't."
David relented. "Sara's umbilical cord is going to be used to grow new nerves for your mother."
"Don't call her that. She's lied to me all my life. She's not my mother. A real mother wouldn't lie to her daughter," Milla said furiously.
"She's more of a mother than mine is," David said angrily, finally losing his temper.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means at least someone cared about your welfare. Want to know why I'm so good at the hotel business?" David said, eyes narrowed. "Because that's where I grew up. In every hotel in America. Palm Beach, Malibu, South Carolina, New York, Seattle, anywhere there were rich people my mother could date."
"You didn't go to school?"
"Yeah, whenever we stayed somewhere long enough. Sometimes her husbands would try to teach me stuff. Then when I was too old to be cute, she sent me to prep school."
"Husbands?"
"Yeah. I got an invitation this morning. She's decided to tie the knot. For the ninth time."
"Nine husbands?"
"Nine."
Milla blinked. "Why didn't she just have affairs?"
"Who said she didn't?"
"What?" Milla looked absolutely shocked.
"You're a selfish, dumb little girl, Milla Samuelle," David said, his voice hard and his eyes narrow slits. "You've got a mother and father who love you like crazy and you're out here pouting because of some little dumb unimportant thing."
"It's not unimportant! They lied to me!" Milla said, outraged.
"Yeah? Well, so what?"
"So what?! So .... everything!"
"Look at it another way, Milla. What if the other part of their lives was the lie? And the part they've spent with you is the truth?"
"What? That's the craziest thing I've ever --"
"You are so damn lucky, Milla, and you don't even know it," David pointed out. "Your mother adopted you and took care of you and loved you because she wanted to. Not because she had to. There's a real difference, Milla."
"You can't just lie and lie and lie and then say, ‘Oh, sorry,' and expect it to all be all right!"
"Well, you've got one thing right. Everything is not all right."
Milla stood very still. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you need to get your little dirty self home, honey." David ticked items off on his fingers. "Your mother is stressed out about surgery and worried sick over you. Sara's panicking because she's about to drop that kid any day and Sam's not here yet. And I expect when she goes into labor, Sam's parents are going to come down."
"So?" Milla said, glaring at her toes.
"So, that means that in addition to facing major surgery, your mother is going to have to deal with her husband's first wife. And I don't care how amiable divorces are, there's going to be tension. Trust me. My mother's run into former first wives all her life and it's always messy."
Milla looked up uncertainly. "Elena's coming to Sorrento?"
"Probably. Wouldn't your mother come if you were having a baby?"
Instead of answering the question, Milla said, "Would yours?"
"Probably not," David said thoughtfully. "Though, to be perfectly honest, she's never much thought of me as her child. More like an extra person to round out a dinner party."
"But she's your mother. Your real mother."
"So what? The only thing we've got in common is DNA."
"I don't even have that in common with Mami."
"DNA is overrated. Trust me. Milla, please reconsider and come home. They need your support. Like it or not, they're your family."
Milla was quiet for a moment, and finally sat down on a flat stone. David sighed and sat down beside her, pulling out a candy bar and splitting it in half. He wordlessly gave Milla the bigger piece and she took it without thanking him.
"She lied," Milla said flatly.
"She did end up telling you the truth in the end," David pointed out gently.
"I suppose." Milla licked her fingers: chocolate over dirt. David winced slightly. She wiped her sticky fingers on her grimy pants and looked at the ground. "You really don't think it matters?"
"All I'm saying is, there are other things more important than your hurt feelings," David sighed. "You can get over this if you want to."
"I would like to see Sara before the baby comes," Milla said slowly, not looking at him. "And I guess ... I do miss Mami."
David wisely remained silent.
"But ... I've got a lot of work to do here." Milla's eyes brightened and she looked across the courtyard to the mosaic. "Have you seen it? Isn't it wonderful? It's the best one they've uncovered in Pompeii in years. Not to mention the fountain. They think there's a spring underground and that after the volcano erupted, ash clogged the pipes leading to the spring. If we can clean them, it should work again."
"It's very pretty Milla," David said, crunching up his candy wrapper and putting it in his pocket. "But let me ask you something: How long has this mosaic been here?"
She shrugged. "A little over 2,000 years."
"Don't you think it could wait for a few more weeks?"
Milla was quiet for a moment, then without looking at him, she mumbled, "It'll be awkward going back."
"I'll be with you."
"Still." She glanced up and abruptly changed the subject. "You said you got a wedding invitation from your mother this morning."
"That's right. Number Nine."
"I'll make you a deal."
His eyes narrowed. "What kind of a deal?"
"I'll go home, if you go to your mother's wedding."
"Milla --"
"You can't lecture me on family duties and loyalty if you refuse to meet your own," Milla pointed out. "Besides, how can you not go to the wedding? She's your mother. Your real mother."
"She is a woman who happened to get pregnant by mistake while she was married to a man who wouldn't consider abortion."
"If you go see your mother, I'll go see mine. What do you say?" Her eyes sparkled, and David, remembering the date for the wedding was a few weeks away, shrugged.
"What the hell. Okay," he said.
"Really?"
"Sure. If it'll get you home." He glanced around. "Where's your stuff? Where've you been staying?"
"Uh ... well, here."
"What do you mean, here?"
Milla licked her lips. "I've sort of been camping."
"No wonder you're so dirty."
"Hey, I wash in the public washroom when everyone leaves," Milla said indignantly.
"Whatever. Come on, Milla."
"I have to -- I can't just --"
"Come on, Milla. You promised."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're real pushy for a busboy."
He spotted a familiar battered rucksack behind a pile of rubble and bent down to pick it up. It still had the tags on it, but they were grimy and barely hanging on now. He said, "I thought I told you before. I'm the general manager."
"Whatever," said Milla, rolling her eyes. But she led the way out of the old part of Pompeii and David followed her.
***********************
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