Things Not Subject To Gravity - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Maria slowly opened her eyes. At first, she found a white ceiling, then her body lying on a bed. Both looked clear and shining, beautiful without a reason.
Her mind was pleasantly empty. She was like a spectator at the cinema, simply enjoying the view.
She shifted slightly on the bed and a subtle pain stung her right temple. A sharper one pierced her left shoulder. Her body was as sore as if she'd just set a new record at the hundred meter race.
She wasn't the running type though.
Her left elbow, knee, and foot burned. She tilted her head to look down at them, but even that wasn't enough to disrupt the deep sense of peace pervading her.
Her heart was so light it could've flown away, leaving in her chest just a puff of laughter and joy. She felt like a blank canvas, immaculate before the painting.
She moved her hands and just then she realized that her left one held onto something. The contact was warm and comforting. Her eyes moved along her arm and found another hand resting upon hers. Her gaze trailed over an unusual white robe until it reached the face of a stranger, sitting beside the bed. Maria blinked a couple of times.
It was a divine creature.
Androgynous features, sharp yet delicate, like an ice sculpture. Hair that shone like strings of pearls, eyes like sparkling obsidians washed by the river and left under the sun—and those gems bestowed upon her a loving gaze.
"Are you an angel?" she asked in awe.
His smile reminded her of Flora in Botticelli's Primavera. As an art student, she felt the urge to take a shot of him so she could paint him later.
"I'm Sybil Vain, a seer, not an angel," he replied calmly, his voice as deep and evocative as his eyes. "How do you feel?" he inquired.
"Inexplicably good," she said, still hazy.
She had no idea what had happened, where she was and why the stranger had popped up. While she tried to get the gist of the situation, her right hand moved to touch her temple. Her fingers brushed the rough fabric of a bandage and suddenly she realized she was in a hospital. She took a deep breath and the smell of antiseptic filled her nostrils. A flash of the crash came into her mind and she recognized Sybil Vain as being the one who had pulled her out of the car.
Her mind woke up and started spinning at full speed. A vortex of unstoppable thoughts submerged her.
"Where's my mom?" she gasped.
"I'm sorry..." he replied, slowly shaking his head. "They declared her dead at the crash."
Her blood chilled in her veins while her body was taken over by a shiver that traveled up to her lips. She couldn't stop her teeth from clattering. Burdened by the weight of thoughts, her mind blamed her for enjoying that temporary peace and forgetting about her mother. She pressed her lips together, trying to get a hold on herself.
Sybil Vain squeezed her hand, dragging her out of her thoughts. As if a magic spell was cast upon her, her heartbeat and breathing slowed down, her emotions quieted. She couldn't speak anymore, but she swallowed back the tears, concentrating on the warmth of his firm hold. She couldn't explain why, but his presence itself was oddly comforting. For a moment she hoped he could stay with her forever.
"Your father has been informed and he should be here soon," Sybil explained and his gaze shifted to their hands. "Would you allow me to go and buy something to drink?" he asked calmly, his deep soothing voice cuddling her ears.
She gasped and, before she could make sense of it, words come out of her mouth. "No, don't go!"
He gave her a comforting smile and leaned toward her. At such a close distance, she plunged into the depths of his shining dark eyes. It was like a magic spell, mesmerizing her and—once again—washing away all the thoughts from her mind.
"I've got no intention to leave you, Mimi, don't worry," he murmured, the low, mellow voice embracing her soul.
"Mimi?" she repeated, her heartbeat growing faster.
"It's a cute name, isn't it?" A soft chuckle escaped his pearly-peach lips.
Maria nodded slightly, her cheeks warming up. As she looked down at their hands to hide her unexpected reaction, she realized how awkward the whole situation was.
Sybil Vain was way too familiar around her.
Especially in such circumstances, his behavior was definitely odd. She should've kept him at bay—not a few inches from her face—but there was something about him. Something she couldn't explain, that drew her to him like iron dust to a magnet. She just couldn't find it in herself to pull back.
"You can go..." she managed to speak under her breath.
Sybil Vain lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss upon it. He then brought her palm to his chest. From under the white fabric of his robe, the warmth of his body seeped through her skin. She could sense the subtle thumping of his heart. She peeked at his peaceful face, while the regular beat resonated in her like a distant, hypnotic chant. His eyes were half-closed, the magnetic intensity of his irises partially hidden behind his long, white eyelashes. Maria exhaled, enchanted. Her nostrils filled with his sweet exotic scent.
"Thank you, Mimi. I prefer not to be here when your father arrives, but I promise I'll be back soon," he explained softly.
He let go of her hand, but his fingers reached up for her face and gently stroked her cheek. Then, as measured and graceful as one can be, he pulled back and stood. She followed his every movement, hypnotized like the snake with the flute of the snake charmer.
While he walked out of the room with elegant steps, Maria's eyes were caught by the light swing of his robe. The white cloth was smudged with blood, ash, and dirt, but even that wasn't enough to fault his divine aura. As she was marveling at his ethereal figure, her hand moved up to touch her lips. She recalled the sensation of his firm, gentle hold as he carried her away from the car. She sighed.
An inexplicable affection towards him already warmed her heart.
However, as soon as he disappeared from sight, her memories turned to the sour side. Horrible thoughts and images pooled in her mind, triggering layers and layers of unexpressed emotions. Pain submerged her and breathing became heavy as if the air had turned into stones.
She mourned silently.
Her mother's last moments had slipped through her hands. If she hadn't insisted on going to that art retreat out of city, If she hadn't wasted so much time chosing what to wear before leaving, if she'd just listened when her mom asked her to stop for breakfast somewhere on the way, things might've been different.
Maria could've saved her, but she didn't.
If she knew what was going to happen she could've been gentler, not trying to act all indipendent. She could've at least bid her mom a proper farewell, instead of putting on her headphones and listening to her music to the very last moment. The sobs turned into wailing, but she couldn't even recognize her own voice.
I didn't deserve to be saved.
Her hands clutched her head as she swung back and forth like a broken pendulum clock.
I didn't deserve to be comforted by him.
Her nails scratched her scalp, her fingers pulling at her hair.
I didn't deserve to feel any better.
She was about to scream it out loud and slap herself as a punishment when her father's anxious voice brought her back to the present moment. Her hands fell back on the bed and she froze.
"Oh my God, Mari'! Thank heavens you are safe!" he called as he ran into the room, almost out of breath.
He bent over the bed, held her face and kissed her cheeks countless times. Then, he sat on the visitor's chair and took her hands in his. His eyes were two times bigger and dimmer than normal, swollen and teary.
"Dad... Mom is..." her voice broke.
"I know, baby... I know..." His voice faltered and he inhaled deeply. "What matters now is that you are safe." He tried to encourage her, but his eyes spoke volumes of grief.
His presence, even the contact with his hands, didn't soothe her. On the contrary, guilt clutched her heart tighter. A big, strong man like Vito had become small and fragile like a newborn. His hands trembled, his shoulders bent under the weight of the sadness he held inside, and tears had marked his eyes. Maria's heart almost stopped beating.
It's my fault. I should've been faster, not bothering with those stupid clothes. I should've told her to stop at that damn café on the way. Why the hell did I ask her to drive me? I've killed Mom. I've separated them. I can't stand this. I can't.
Her breath caught in her throat as she drowned in her own mind.
Nobody can save me from this.
A sharp knocking cut through her thoughts, drawing her eyes to the room's door.
"May I come in?" Sybil asked, standing at the entrance.
Maria gave him a desperate nod and he approached in his quiet steps. She inhaled as her eyes followed his every move again.
"What are you doing here?" Vito snarled, jumping up.
Sybil Vain stopped halfway, his eyes carefully studying Vito's face as steam rose carelessly from a paper cup in his hand. Maria managed to rip her gaze off the divine creature and squinted at her father.
"Dad, this man saved me," she said, her voice steadier than she expected.
Vito's eyes widened in shock. His mouth dropped open and then closed. His lips moved up and down a few times, but no sound came out, as if he wanted to ask questions but couldn't find the words. While the gesture repeated itself in a disconcerting way, he grew paler. In the end, he fell back on the chair and ran both hands over his weary face.
"You knew it..." he murmured absentmindedly.
Utterly unperturbed, Sybil Vain approached him. "I did," he stated simply, offering Vito the paper cup he'd brought.
Maria's father reluctantly accepted it and gave him a desolate look. A whiff of sweet hot tea reached Maria's nostrils, but her eyes kept following Sybil's movements as he moved away and sat on the side of the bed. He leaned his hand upon hers.
Even if the wonder she'd experienced when she'd woken up had totally dissolved, at his touch she was pervaded by a sense of warmth and peace – her mind becoming just a distant noise. The man didn't look at her though. His gaze stayed with Vito.
"Mister Caruso, I'm sorry for your loss," he said, yet his voice didn't bear any sorrow. It sounded deep, smooth and comforting like the still waters of a lake at night. "I want you to know that even if you had listened to me, there was nothing we could have done for your wife."
Vito glanced at the liquid in his hand before putting the cup down on the side table. He breathed heavily. "I was told that if it wasn't for the help of a passerby, even Maria..." His voice fell apart.
Sybil Vain gave him a slow, graceful nod. "Usually I don't meddle in other people's lives but, as I mentioned, I need your help. So, protecting Maria was the least I could do." His words rolled untroubled off his tongue, regardless of the subject.
Maria squeezed his hand. "What are you talking about? Do you know each other?" she asked, puzzled.
Sybil's gaze searched her eyes before he spoke again. "We've met briefly some time ago." A soft smile curved his lips as the sound of his voice mesmerized her once again. "I sought your help, Maria, but I believe this is not the right moment to talk about it."
Vito screwed his face and glowered at him. "My daughter just survived a tragic event." He paused trying to steady his wavering voice. "I believe that you shouldn't make requests at all," he snapped.
"Isn't she allowed to speak for herself?" Sybil countered.
Maria sighed and squeezed his hand tighter before she straightened her back and cast a resolute look at her father.
"Dad, he saved my life. I should at least listen to him," she stated, giving Sybil a firm nod.
Vito lowered his head in surrender. He didn't have the strength to reply anymore. Maria's heart tightened in her chest. Sybil Vain's fingers stroked the back of her hand in a silent attempt to comfort her.
"I'll reach out to you later and explain everything," he promised her with a loving smile.
Then, he let go of her. Chills ran through her body again as her eyes begged him not to leave. However, he stood and as quietly as he'd arrived, he disappeared on the other side of the white door.
After a couple of weeks Maria had perfectly recovered from any physical injury, but the psychological wounds kept getting worse. She had left art school and took on her mother's old job, working at the café full time. Keeping herself busy helped her to not think about what happened.
Every day she woke up and mechanically took care of what she had to. Every night, she was torn by the memories of her mom and of the accident.
Guilt followed her every step.
She was conviced she didn't deserve the life she had been granted. The only thing that got her through the day was the idea that she might meet her savior once again. His promise was a light in the distance, keeping her from sinking into her darkness.
The third week, when she was about to give up and crumble, somebody showed up.
A beautiful woman stepped in through the cafe's front door, just before closing time. She reached the counter and there she stood, staring at Vito with a puzzling smile on her red lips. Maria glanced at her while cleaning one of the tables.
She had long mahogany hair, shining green eyes, and pale skin. She wore exotic clothes – a long gypsy skirt and an embroidered shirt – in dark shades of purple. It wasn't the cheap kind and, combined with the redpoint drawn between her brows and the long Indian earrings, it gave her an esoteric appeal. She would've been perfect to do a tarot-reading show on TV.
Vito waited for the last three customers to finish their drinks. He ushered them out quickly and hung the CLOSED sign at the door.
"Mister Caruso, I believe," the woman confirmed in a confident yet sweet voice, strengthening the telemarketer impression.
He nodded, his lips tightened in a hard line.
"I'm here on behalf of Mister Vain," she explained smoothly.
Before she could say anything else, Vito led her to the backroom.
As soon as they took a seat at the small square table, the woman showed Maria and Vito a non-disclosure agreement. As weird as it was, they both signed. Then, she introduced herself as Linda and explained she was Vain's assistant. She went through the formalities in an elegant and polite way definitely matching her looks.
She took out of her big bag a small bottle of licorice liquor, made in Sicily, and asked for three glasses. Vito complied and they all took a sip.
Then she handed to Maria an outrageously generous employment contract – for a housekeeper position – and told her in detail about Vain's death premonition. She explained that while the Oracle was looking for his possible murderer, he had a few visions concerning her.
Hence, they believed the killer to be a client of their cafe.
That news made Maria and Vito down their liquor in one shot. Even if the whole story sounded absurd, they were both quite superstitious. Moreover, Sybil Vain had already proven to be more than a simple guesser.
Linda provided them with a detailed description and a sketch of a handsome boy with short black hair. She asked to be informed immediately in case he showed up.
Even confused by all the weird information, Maria promptly agreed to fulfill the task and accepted the job. It wasn't for the ginormous amount of money. She wanted to stay near Sybil Vain, hoping that his presence would grant her that same peace of mind she'd experienced when they met.
Following the instructions given, the next day she dressed up and went to the Night Hotel. Mister Vain—as mysterious and alluring as ever—shoved an enormous check into her hands and gave her the task to provide all the necessary goods for the apartment he was going to move into.
And, just like that, their routine started.
Sybil's peaceful living style and his constant presence helped Maria to cope with her mother's loss and filled in the huge void she felt inside. Before she knew it, Maria found herself wrapped in a protective bubble, a private universe in which she was allowed to experience an unusual degree of intimacy, indulge in few quarrels and countless flirts.
Sybil Vain held an unshakable inner peace and accepted her completely. He never got angry or sad, never judged her behavior, never sulked or blamed her for her mistakes. He was the embodiment of the word acceptance.
And every day it was only the two of them.
She would come and go – cooking, cleaning, shopping, as a good housewife – and he would be there, waiting for her.
The Oracle was a private person who led a quiet, withdrawn life. He earned a dizzying amount of money giving his predictions to Linda online. His public or social life consisted of a couple of walks daily. He didn't have any interest in women, company or clubbing. He didn't have lovers, not even friends, and his apparently ordinary life was almost monastic.
Maria had the privilege of being the only one allowed into his world.
As if that wasn't enough, he paid for everything she needed, including her clothing, accessories, or bath products, and suggested activities that crossed the line of a normal professional relationship. He even took her to dinner to the Gallow Green, the most romantic place she had ever been.
Sybil Vain wasn't at all the man she would've imagined falling for, but she found herself feeling something so intense that defining it as love would have been reductive. It was utter adoration.
Two months passed and nobody that resembled the description of the potential murderer showed up. Maria's hope for the premonition to be wrong became almost a certainty and she started hoping that their peaceful routine could last forever.
Unluckily, her savior didn't share the same idea and the day came that he went off to a psychiatric hospital. He spent a whole month there, just because he was sure he could've met the man of his dreams.
Maria tried her best to dissuade him but failed.
According to her, the most logical thing to do about a possible murderer was to keep as far away as possible, but Sybil didn't share the logic of common mortals. Not only did he go to meet his possible murderer, he even decided to invite him home.
Maria couldn't believe her eyes when she found out it was Set, the young homeless that stayed in the cafe's back alley. Vito had been taking care of the boy for a whole year and she'd had a crush on him before the incident that shattered her world.
The final blow to her heart came when Sybil decided to take Set in. She didn't need explanations to know that it wasn't normal. For three months she had been the only one allowed in that apartment.
Maria let go of the sponge, crossed her arms over the kitchen countertop and leaned her forehead over the marble. The cold touch gave her some relief, but it wasn't enough to calm her anxiety.
At that point, she was sure that Sybil's predictions never missed. It was highly likely for Set to be his actual murderer.
She squeezed her eyes shut and bit the inside of her cheek.
She would've done anything to protect Sybil. She only needed to make sure who was the real threat between Set and Green. Even if it was Set, she would'nt hold back. She needed to steel her resolve, be ready for it. If Set dared to attack Sybil, she would've torn him to shreds.
Out of the blue, cold water splashed on her head.
She instinctively pulled back from the counter. The barstool she sat on wavered dangerously, but her back landed against something that saved her from smashing to the ground. She already knew what it was. It was the same thing that had been pouring water over her.
She tilted her head back to look at Sybil and leaned fully on his chest so that she could soak his favorite robe too.
"Would you mind telling me why the fuck you just drenched me?" she asked, squinting her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to scare him.
It never worked with him anyway.
He smiled the most innocent of smiles, which reminded her of Falstaff painted by Grützner. If anybody else dared to put on such a face, she would've slapped them.
"You need to cool your head, Mimi, you think too much," he teased.
"I wouldn't need to do so if you had any sense in you," she countered as she bent forward to grab a cloth to dry her face.
"If you are in the mood for speculation, why don't you ask yourself why you chose to be born into your family and live the experiences you have been living?" he asked as casually as if he was talking about the dinner menu.
"If I had chosen it, I assure you that I would've been a millionaire and with both my parents alive." She pouted and shook her head to splash his face.
Sybil didn't care. He placed the empty bottle on the counter and wrapped her in his arms. "I believe I have chosen it and this is the best of the possible worlds," he said softly, bending over her shoulder.
"Why did you bring him home? I hate you," she retorted, but she couldn't give her voice any credibility.
"It's a lie." His warm breath tickled her ear, sending shivers in places she'd preferred not to mention.
"You are an idiot." She bumped her head against his chest.
"Probably," he admitted, and yet his voice was joyous as if carrying a smile.
Maria brought her arms over his and intertwined their fingers.
"Definitely," she murmured, but her voice had become sweet like honey.
Sybil's peaceful warmth enveloped her completely and washed away her anxiety like gentle waves cleaning the sand of a silent beach. All her thoughts drifted away. With her ear pressed to his chest, she could sense the regular pounding of his heart, and nothing else.
That was the best of the possible worlds