I shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other.
‘Shall I stay with you or…?’
‘You go. Have a nice evening.’
‘Gabriele,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to have a nice evening. Not when you’ve had news like this. Let me stay with you. Let me look after you. I know there’s nothing I can do to make any of this better, but let me be with you while you go through it.’
He didn’t move, nor did he say anything. Unsure whether it was the right thing to do or whether I’d be overstepping some kind of invisible line that seemed to be constantly shifting between the two of us, I slipped off my shoes and my coat, leaving them by the door. And then Iwalked over to the bed and I lay down next to him, flat on my back so that I was looking up at the ceiling, too. And then I reached out and took his hand.
After a few moments, he squeezed it, pulling me into him, shifting his body so that I was lying on his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I stayed there, closing my eyes, listening to the rise and fall of his breath, just wanting to be there for whatever he needed me to be there for.
‘My mother wants me to fly straight home to Italy,’ he said eventually, his voice piercing the silence.
‘Of course she does,’ I said. ‘She needs you.’
‘But the tour…’ he said, letting his words drift off. He didn’t need to say more. I knew how he must feel.Slow Burnwashisshow; he was carrying the entire thing. Getting up and leaving it in somebody else’s hands was never going to be easy, no matter the circumstances.
‘We’ll make it work. It’s what understudies are for: moments like this. It can’t be helped and the show will be the least of all our worries,’ I assured him.
He sighed and my heart broke for him, because not performing would be another loss: his father and now the show he had helped create, that he loved being a part of.
‘I do not want the show to fall to pieces because I am not there,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper. ‘I want it to be a success, for Carlos, but also for you. And Luca might be my understudy, but I do not think he is good enough to take my place. He is a solid dancer, he will be able to pick the steps up easily enough, and I know you have taught himmost of the routines already, but I have seen you dance with him in the group salsa number and there is no chemistry there. No connection.’
I ran my hand across his stomach, wanting to soothe him, wishing he would stop worrying about things he couldn’t control. The producers would work out what to do; Gabriele just needed to get himself on a plane and travel to be with his family.
‘I’ll make it work,’ I said. ‘Please don’t focus on the show. It’s more important that you worry about your mother and the farm, and allow yourself time to grieve your dad.’
I thought he might push me away at that point, become defensive, but instead he held me tighter, and I did the same to him, wanting him to know that I would match him step for step; however much of me he needed, he could take.
‘I feel like I am going crazy,’ he said, running his fingers through my hair. ‘My head will not let me think about Papa or the fact that I will never see him again, that maybe I let him down, that he probably died resenting me, thinking me useless, unhelpful. Wondering if I loved him enough. I cannot think about all of that because it is too much, too painful. I must focus on what I can control – the show. I can make sure I do what is best for you; it will give me something positive to think about.’
‘Okay,’ I said, propping myself up on one elbow, looking into Gabriele’s eyes. Because who was I to say he should do one thing or another?
‘In a second, I will call Carlos. Tell him what hashappened. That he must tell Daniella to call Luca into the theatre first thing tomorrow morning for a run-through with you.’
I nodded. Carlos had not joined us for this leg of the tour, as was usual for choreographers, instead leaving us in the capable hands of his dance captain and second in command, Daniella. He had been planning to fly out for the final shows in Florence, but I wondered what would happen now, if it would be necessary for him to change his plans.
Gabriele rolled on top of me, bracing himself on his arms so that he didn’t squash me.
‘I want you to be okay, Lira. I want this success for you.’
I cupped his face in my hands. ‘I can’t believe you’re thinking about me at a time like this. This is all about you. Tell me how you’re feeling. Talk to me.’
‘I will,’ he said, nodding, and I could see in his eyes that there was so much going on in his head right now that he probably couldn’t even begin to articulate it. ‘But I cannot do it tonight. But when I can, I will. And you will be the only person I will tell my innermost thoughts to. Would that be okay? Could you bear it?’
‘Of course I could,’ I said, unbelievably touched that he felt able to open up to me when I knew he found it almost impossible to do that with anyone. ‘You can tell me anything. It won’t be too much for me, I promise. You can say anything that comes into your head, but only when you’re ready. You can also be silent and say absolutely nothing because, honestly, I get that too.’
He hung his head before rolling off me completely.
‘I think I will go take a shower. Will you wait for me?’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I said, watching him pull off his costume wearily as he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
For the first fifteen minutes or so, I assumed he was finding the shower soothing. That it was helping ease the pain of everything, although I didn’t know how it could, not tonight. But as time ticked on, I began to worry.
I sat up, propelling myself to the end of the bed and pushing myself to my feet. Creeping over to the bathroom door, I called his name, quietly the first time, more loudly the second.
‘Gabriele? Gabi? Are you okay in there?’
