Page 95 of Just for a Taste

I hadn’t ever believed it was possible for words to become reality, and yet these words, spoken so vehemently, must have been bewitched. For the first time in my life, I truly feared what Zeno was capable of. Not in that unsettled way as when he spoke vacantly, or even in the flashbang manner as when he told me about his father, but truly.

“No!”

Zeno froze, and I took the opportunity to break away from him roughly. I tried to spin on my heels to see him, to step out and away from his grasp, but I fell to the floor. I tried in vain to stagger to my feet and put space between us but succeeded only in landing on my ass and skittering back.

Chest heaving, heart pounding, I stared back up at his crestfallen expression.

Zeno crouched on his heels and gave me a long, sad look. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, I cut in, “Zeno, I need to think.”

With a small sigh, he turned his head away and closed his eyes. His voice came out, low and shaky and just audible above the ringing in my ears. “Cora, I—”

“Zeno, no.” I rose to my feet and dusted off my skirt. “I need to be alone.”

He didn’t call out to me as I left. He didn’t do anything at all but sit there, already starting to disintegrate.

Chapter 52: Un bel dì, vedremo

Ilocked myself in the abbess’s suite for several days, not reading, not painting, not doing anything at all. Just being suspended in a strange, dissociative state. Zeno gave up trying to talk to me, for he quickly learned I wouldn’t respond. But before bed, every day, he gave me an unanswered, “Good night. I love you.”

He slid letters under my door, but I didn’t read them or even pick them up. I cried. A lot. Despite it all, I missed him furiously, worried about him furiously. Loved him furiously. I allowed Doctor Ntumba alone to see me and bring me food.

Until one day, she didn’t.

I was sitting in bed, cross-legged, doing nothing and everything. Analyzing the pores of my hands, counting the bricks on the wall, watching the rise and fall of my eyelashes as I slowly blinked and did anything else I could think of to slip into a strange meditative trance. A trio of soft knocks jarred me from it, and I nearly fell off of the bed. I walked slowly and shakily to the door, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted beneath it.

My stomach gurgled so loudly, I was certain whoever was on the other side would be able to hear it. Who that someone was, I knew, was not Doctor Ntumba, for she had the habit of unapologetically bursting into my room with her skeleton key and arms full of prepared meals.

I hadn’t eaten today, I realized. I had skipped two meals entirely, despite the chiming of a bell beckoning me downstairs for breakfast and lunch.

Closing one eye, I pressed my head flush to the ground and peered beyond the tiny gap beneath the door. On the other side, Zeno’s shoes greeted me for an instant, only to be blocked off by the sight and sound of a tray being placed gently in front of my door.

“Cora, please eat something. I’ll leave you for however long you need. Just take care of yourself.”

True to his word, Zeno did not linger for even an instant. Instead, his footsteps retreated into the distance, all the way to the other side of the abbey.

After several minutes of silence, I finally cracked the door. The sole guest awaiting me on the other side was a metal tray topped with a round loaf of sourdough, a bowl of tomato soup, and cucumber water. I opened the entrance to my domain just enough to snatch the meal through, then locked it behind me.

My fingers burned as I tore savagely into the loaf, but I did not care. I drowned a large hunk in the hot soup for several seconds, relying on its creamy moisture to allow me to swallow unchewed bites so quickly it made me feel sick. Once I had engulfed the sourdough, I lapped up what little remained of the soup and finally chased it all down with large gulps of cucumber water.

“Ugh.”

Regret set in just as quickly as the bloat. I considered sneaking out for a few spell, taking advantage of Zeno’s absence and tracking down Doctor Ntumba to ask for a cocktail of antacids and salicylates.

But then I remembered I hadn’t seen her at all today, just as I hadn’t seen Lucia or Signora Carbone. Confident that Zeno was still keeping his distance, I abandoned the tray on the ground and left the suite for the first time in almost a week.

The main door to the abbey was wide open. Light poured into the entrance. Trees gnashed back and forth, spurred by the same ferocious winds that whistled through the halls. The cool blue gradient of moonlight across the tile was broken by the silhouette of Doctor Ntumba, whose massive shadow appeared engorged. The bag in her arms was misshapen, all of her belongings clearly forced inside.

For Noor not to have every shirt folded and every item packed as economically as possible defied all my expectations of her, so in a strange way, the shock on her face made sense. She wore sneakers in lieu of her usual high heels, her shirt was buttoned a row off, and her hair was disheveled.

My heavy footfalls were a staccato above the ever-present hum of a motor just outside. Doctor Ntumba turned to face me.

I stared, slack-jawed, and continued to approach her slowly, as though she were a skittish animal.

“Cora,” she said, gathering her composure poorly.

“What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Noor set down her bag and smoothed her hair, arranged her clothes, and otherwise tried to look put together. Then, just as I was about to prod further, she spoke in an undertone. “He asked me to leave.”

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