The Fourth Life: Chapter 59

She stood, and walked from the table.  She hugged her own arms, and looked into the sunset.  "This is my favorite time of day."


He watched her, from behind.  For a moment, he thought, "I'll have a lot of time to get to know her, later."  His mind flashed on visits with Tea and the children, and holidays, with her there.  


Then, she said, "Do you know how you got to Greece?"


He said, "No.  I don't know much.  I know I was left at an orphanage in a very small town somewhere in Greece.  I grew up there.  He contacted me again when I was a young adult.  He used my weakness against me."


"He was not a good man."


He was as confused as she was, by her fluctuations between adoration and total disgust.  "No, I guess he wasn't."


"He was once, even when he was involved in organized crime, he was a gentle and devoted man, then."  He didn't answer her, as he flashed on him pushing the button on the remote that sent electric current through him.  His hands shook, and he folded them to get it under control.  "I was a call girl, trying to make it through college."  Her back was still to him.  "He was a client, who turned out to be my knight in shining armor.  He paid for school, so I could finish, and he took me in.  We fell in love.  That was also Carlo.  Aside from the hateful, vengeful terrorist he became, he was also this man."


He thought about what to say and decided on, "You loved him."


"Yes.  Even at the end.  Even as he lay in that hospital bed.  Even after he ordered you dead."  She finally turned.  "If you hear the rest and never want to hear more, that would be expected."


He said, "Go on.  What about ordering me dead?"


"What do you want to hear?  That he randomly selected Mac to do this to you?"


He said, "I don't know.  What I want to hear, frankly, is the truth.  Then, maybe we can heal."


"Heal?"  She laughed, despite the tears that were falling on her face.  "How do you heal from something like this?"


"You do.  I guess.  I did.  I was brainwashed, tortured, made to think I was someone else, stole a life, killed someone, lost everything.  And here I am, trying to piece it together.  Trying to get to know my mother, after 41 years."


She turned her back to him again.  "You won't want to know her.  Your mother had a role in your own shooting."


He swallowed.  Knowing the torment she was enduring, he kept his own ire and disgust silent.  "How?"


"I was just about to be released from prison.  After hearing the things he'd done to you and to Todd Manning and his family, I wanted to get as far away as I could from Carlo.  I knew he would suck me in, like a disease, and I'd be right back at his call.  I'm addicted to him, I suppose, but it doesn't matter now.  I sent Mac," she broke down, "who actually loved me.  The man I actually could have depended on, got taken down by Carlo as well."  


She pulled herself together, and still with her back to him, she said, "Mac went to him, in prison, made a deal with him to help Carlo escape during that trial in exchange for getting us out of the country and giving us unlimited wealth.  The greed in me, and my fear, motivated me to use Mac.  Mac loved me, truly.  When Carlo turned on us, and required the shooting of you, Mac went with it.  Carlo had threatened to have me tortured and killed, and Mac....he just could not accept it and agreed to kill you."


Tears stung his own eyes, as he realized her deep desperation and selfishness, and how it had overcome her.  Perhaps it was his own therapy that helped him find pity for her, but he did.  "You didn't know I was your son."


"I know that.  It doesn't exonerate me.  I am responsible, second hand, for the injury you endured.  And, I am party to the death of that baby.  That innocent life."  She broke again, and put her face into her palm for a moment.  Zeus let her cry, and waited, patiently.


He said, "I forgive you.  I understand what you were trying to do.  I know the desperation.  I was in that same place.  Before the torture and brainwashing, I did things for him, that I knew were wrong.  We all have our demons."


"Yes," she said, sniffing, and becoming upright again.  "Neither of us planned for you to die, or that baby to die.  The worst thing that ever happened to me was the death of my child, and now, I've put it on someone else."


He said, "You didn't know.  You didn't plan that."


"Still, it happened.  The blood is on my hands."  She turned to him, and held her hands out, "Do you know I can see it?  I see the blood sometimes, on my hands?"


In his struggle to understand her, a voice of alarm spoke to him.  He said, "No, there's no blood there, your hands are clean, see them?"


"I see them, and sometimes, I look, and they are covered in Blair's blood, and the baby's blood.  She was innocent."


He looked at the woman, and said, "Even Blair wouldn't blame you for this.  I know that."


"Wouldn't she?  I know how it feels.  It's the worst pain anyone can have."


He said, "I'm sorry.  But your pain is over, your child did not die.  You can start again, and get to know me.  We can make up for lost time.  I...I could have a family, like I've always wanted."  


She turned her back again.  After a few moments of silence, she said, "You have hope.  I don't.  I've....there's too much.  Too much done and said and passed."


"All of it can be forgiven.  I'm living proof of that.  Todd forgave me."


"Who can forgive me?"


"I can.  I will.  I already have."


She did not turn.  Instead, he saw her move to the edge of the balcony and lean against the black wrought-iron railings.  She breathed in deeply.  "You forgive me.  That means...everything.  It's all that was left."  Then she said, "I love this.  This view.  It was worth every penny.  It's in foreclosure, you know.  Another month or two before it's gone.  I deserve that.  I deserve whatever comes.  I've done...let's just say, you don't know the half of it."


He said, "None of that matters to me.  You can get help, I know someone who can help you.  If I talk to Todd, I am certain he'll help me buy this place, and you can live here as long as you like, with us."  These were the things he dreamed of, imagined, and longed for, most of his life.


"With us?"


"Tea, Daniella, Isabella and I.  All of us."


"You dream.  You dream very big, and colorful and in picket fences.  That's not reality.    Blair on the floor bleeding - that's real.  Todd and Blair, on their knees, mourning, beside a rose-quartz statue of a little girl - that's real.  Carlo, dead, in the hospital bed, the life squeezed out of him - those are real.  That is reality."


He stopped, confused by her words, and the first thing he thought of was, "You were at the funeral?"


"I was watching, from a distance.  I saw it all.  One thing you must say about Todd Manning, he's a total romantic, even in death."


Zeus said, "You saw Carlo, dead?"


She did not answer.  Instead she said, "The sun is almost gone.  I've done it all, you realize.  I've cheated, slept with men, sold myself, lied, prostituted, betrayed people, turned my head to atrocities, and now killed.  I've taken lives."


"That baby's death is not your doing.  Anyone can see that.  I see that.  None of that matters anymore."


It was as if he were not there, "Just look at it, how the sun falls behind the mountains like that.  In a few minutes, just like love, it will be gone.  Just like life."


He looked at the sky, and for a moment, shared the awe that she felt.  The clouds were small lines across the horizon; the sky was a blend of purples, oranges and pinks.  The rim of the sun was just touching the mountains and was slowly fading behind them as they watched together.  As strange as the reunion was, he was with his mother, and she was with her son.  


Without warning, she hopped herself onto the railing and swung her legs over.  He was up, out of his seat, and running, grabbed the sleeve of her sweater, which hung there, dangling from his hands, as she dropped to the ground so far below.  She was lying, crumpled, three stories down, her legs twisted in an unnatural way, and blood was pooling under her head.  He turned away, and cried out, "No!"


He gripped the sweater, soft and smelling of perfumed flowers, once again an orphan.  


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