Chapter 23 - SELENE'S SECOND MARRIAGE
Thomas died unexpectedly from an aneurysm when Selene was fifty-eight.
Cruel symmetry.
My family knew sudden death too well.
I learned through Adrian.
Did I call?
I hesitated.
Then texted:
I'm sorry. No need to respond.
She replied two days later:
Thank you.
Months passed.
Then she asked to meet.
We did.
She looked exhausted.
“I understand Adelaide differently now.”
I said nothing.
“When Thomas died, everyone started making decisions for me because I was grieving.”
I understood.
“His sister tried to take over funeral arrangements. His business partner wanted his office cleared immediately. People kept saying they were helping.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I wanted to throw water on all of them.”
Dark.
Then:
“I kept hearing myself tell Adelaide what was best.”
There.
Grief teaching empathy years late.
Then she asked:
“Did your mother ever say she was afraid after Matteo died?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“Being moved. Becoming ceremonial. Everyone assuming grief made her incapable.”
Selene closed her eyes.
“I became exactly the person she expected.”
“Eventually.”
Then:
“Do you think that's why she hated me?”
“Partly.”
“Did she hate me at the end?”
“I don't think so.”
Selene cried.
No shame.
Then she said:
“I wish I had apologized sooner.”
“You did.”
“Not before consequences.”
Ah.
She wanted moral credit before being forced.
Nobody gets timeline back.
Then I shared something Adelaide said:
I forgive the papers now. Don't do anything like that to yourself next.
Selene touched her necklace.
She wore Mother's note folded inside a small locket? Could be sentimental. Fine.
“I've tried.”
Then our conversation drifted.
Thomas.
Julia.
Aging.
No marriage nostalgia.
Then:
“Do you remember the first apartment we had?”
“Yes.”
“Tiny.”
“It had three bedrooms.”
“Compared with Carbone house.”
We laughed.
Then she said:
“We were happiest before I believed I deserved more rooms.”
Maybe.
Could be nostalgia.
Then:
“I'm not asking anything.”
“I know.”
This time phrase okay in story.
Then we left.
Selene remained single afterward as far as I knew.
Not tragic punishment.
Choice.
Then Julia asked if meeting was difficult.
“Yes.”
“Do you love her?”
Not jealous.
Curious.
“I love someone I used to be with her.”
“That is annoyingly poetic.”
“I'm old.”
“Excuse.”
Then we went to dinner.
Life.
No rekindling.
May you like
Some relationships become historical truths rather than current possibilities.
That was Selene and me.
