Chapter 18
Livia met Camilla when she was nine.
Her choice.
Domenico said no first.
Immediately.
Livia stared.
He heard himself.
Then:
“I need to think.”
“That's better.”
Apparently therapy had become contagious.
The request had grown slowly.
Two birthday cards.
Three short written questions.
No surprise contact.
No gifts.
No pressure.
Camilla had completed her legal obligations years earlier.
She lived alone in White Plains.
Her divorce from Marco had become final.
None of that created a right to see Livia.
It only removed some reasons to refuse automatically.
The meeting happened in Rachel’s office.
Not the family house.
Not the foundation.
Forty minutes maximum.
Livia's therapist inside.
Domenico next door.
Camilla arrived first.
Livia entered wearing yellow shoes and carrying nothing.
Camilla stood.
Then sat again.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
For almost a minute, Livia stared at her.
Then:
“You look different.”
Camilla smiled weakly.
“So do you.”
“I grew.”
“Yes.”
Simple.
Safe.
Then Livia asked:
“Did you love Mommy?”
Camilla became still.
Not the question she expected.
“Yes.”
Domenico, listening next door, looked down.
Livia continued.
“Then why not help?”
There it was.
The last phone call.
Old overlook.
Elena asking Camilla to come.
Camilla choosing not to.
Camilla answered:
“I was angry with her.”
“Why?”
“She had accused Marco of stealing.”
“He was.”
“Yes.”
“Then Mommy right.”
“Yes.”
Camilla looked at her hands.
“I didn't know for certain then.”
Livia waited.
“But I also didn't want to know.”
Better.
Harder.
“Why?”
“Because if Elena was right, my marriage and a lot of things I believed about my life would change.”
Livia frowned.
“So you wanted Marco not steal.”
“Yes.”
“That's not same as he didn't.”
Camilla closed her eyes.
“No.”
Children still found the shortest route.
Then Livia asked:
“Why tell Uncle Marco where Mommy was?”
Camilla's voice changed.
“I thought if they talked face-to-face, the fight would end.”
“Mommy scared him.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“She told me.”
“Then why?”
No clean answer existed.
Camilla did not manufacture one.
“Because I believed my husband over your mother.”
Another pause.
“And because I wanted the problem solved in the way easiest for me.”
Livia looked angry.
Good.
No adult tried to calm her.
“Then he found Mommy hurt.”
“Yes.”
“And didn't call.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know?”
“Not until later.”
“But you hid he went.”
“Yes.”
Livia stared.
“That's bad.”
“Yes.”
Then the child asked something nobody expected.
“Are you bad?”
Camilla began crying.
Livia looked annoyed.
Domenico almost entered.
Stopped.
Not his moment.
Camilla wiped her face.
“I did bad things.”
“That not answer.”
“No.”
She took time.
“I don't think one word tells you everything about a person.”
Livia looked toward the therapist.
Apparently checking.
The therapist said nothing.
Good.
Livia nodded slowly.
“Daddy says same.”
Camilla almost smiled.
At thirty-four minutes Livia stood.
“Done.”
Camilla stayed seated.
No hug requested.
At the door, Livia stopped.
“Do you still have wedding pictures?”
Camilla looked surprised.
“Yes.”
“Don't send.”
“Okay.”
Then Livia left.
In the car Domenico asked:
“How was it?”
Livia looked at him.
He corrected.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“Pizza.”
Better question.
Three months passed before she mentioned Camilla again.
May you like
That was allowed.
A meeting did not have to create momentum.
