A Life Sublime by Billy London

were at her balcony and Massimo had made himself rather comfortable, pouring her a glass. She rushed into her room and closed the bathroom door. Her reflection showed there wasn’t a single hair out of place, curls uniform from the curling tongs Lydia had used in the morning while contributing to global warming by using half a can of hairspray. Quickly, she cleaned her teeth and reapplied her lipstick.
    “Are you going to sit down?” he asked mildly, when she returned only to stand awkwardly by her table. With a raised brow, she sat down and picked up her whiskey.
    “You should have some ice in your room. Allow me find some for us.” He disappeared into her room and she really prayed she hadn’t left anything embarrassing on display for him to see. God help her, she hadn’t even thought about that! The moment alone gave voice to the most serious of her doubts. What are you doing?
    Having a drink , she retorted.
    It’ll end in trouble, you’ve been warned. It was altogether a correct assumption, but she was still sitting there, waiting for him to return. He came back with a smile in his blue eyes and a glass full of cubes of ice. Dropping two in her glass before he attended to his own, he sat down and turned to her. “Tell me about Ghana. Where you grew up.”
    And she did. She talked. They talked until the floor lights lit up the coast in the distance along with the candles that Massimo leaned down to light with a solid silver lighter. The night turned even darker, the scent of cooling earth and sea mixing richly with the predominant scent of the gardenias and nectarine flowers. They’d left behind their childhoods and discussed the villa, moreover the distinct changes Massimo had made after his wife’s death. Massimo again topped up Belinda’s glass and she sent him a smile in thanks. The question was on the tip of her tongue and the whisky just encouraged her. “Do you miss her? Your wife?”
    Massimo sighed deeply, “How can I miss someone I did not know?”
    “You were married to her for how long? Thirty odd years, how could you not know her?”
    He looked into his glass, swirling the ice cubes. “She was not the woman I married. She had not been for a long time.”
    “You’d have known that if you’d talked to her,” Belinda asserted, from bitter experience.
    “I did talk to her. I also wanted to protect her. By the same turn, she made everything about our children and nothing we discussed was ever about us, more specifically her. I accept responsibility for that. But I also wanted to protect my sons.”
    “Didn’t they see what was going on? They’re not stupid. Contrary to behaviour I’ve seen today.”
    “They would have if I had told the truth. If I had, she would have lost them too.” He leaned forward, placing the glass on the table in front of them. “Whatever she did to me, I could never take them from her. I could weep to God for forgiveness for the things I have done. But I will never regret that. Never.”
    Belinda felt a frown furrow her brow. “Neither of them mentioned her once today.”
    “I did not account for the other things she had done to undermine the love she had for our sons. I am sure there are things you now know about your husband that you did not when he was alive.”
    “Yes,” she admitted reluctantly.
    “Do they know about you? Your husband’s children?”
    Belinda focused on a flickering candle. How had the conversation turned so abruptly to her? “They did when I sold the house. I didn’t think their father would think about their future so I left them some money. When we were married in 1980, one of the houses we bought was eighty thousand. When I sold it a few years ago, it was worth six hundred thousand. Rather than give Herbert his half, I put it in an account and sent the details to his wife. They can deal with all the whatever, whatever.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s all up to them.”
    “Belinda, that is extremely generous