Italian Convalescence

I spent the next few days of the recovery of the surgery sleeping, eating, and taking the pain meds as needed. My entire existence shrunk to the four corners of my room, punctuated only by the soft tick of the wall clock and the quiet rustle of the curtains.

Every time I woke up, Roberto was there with foods and pain medications. As a tsarist, he was overly protective of me.

"You need to eat something substantial today," he said on the second morning, carrying in a tray with a plate of scrambled eggs, thick-cut bacon, and a slice of buttered toast with two glasses of juice.

"I'm not really hungry," I muttered. "And my entire body still throbs if I move even an inch."

"The doctor said the medication works best when you have food in your stomach," Roberto replied gently, but with an underlying firmness that left no room for argument. "Eat first and then take the medication; it’s better for absorption. And yes, I know, you already know this."

As I slowly ate my breakfast, Roberto stood by the window, his eyes scanning the street below before he drew the sheers slightly closer. He was incredibly protective of me, watching over my recovery like a silent guardian.

"You don't have to stay here the whole time, Roberto," I said. "I know you have other things and patients to attend to. I'm super grateful for everything you're doing, but I don't want to be a burden."

He turned to look at me, his expression softening just a fraction. "You are not a burden. My family has survived generations of turmoil because we understand one fundamental truth: we don’t support democratic elections."

"Your family has always been like this?" I asked, wanting to understand the quiet gravity he carried.

"We are lifelong tsarists," Roberto said. "To my family, loyalty is not a preference; it is a sacred duty. We do not abandon our posts, and we do not leave those we care for to fend for themselves."

A warm sense of safety settled over me, stronger than any comfort the medication could offer. Knowing that his fierce devotion was entirely focused on keeping me safe made the long, quiet hours of recovery bearable.

By the fourth day after surgery, I woke up feeling a noticeable shift. The sharp, agonizing stabs of pain had subsided to a dull, manageable ache, and I was in far less pain than I had been since the operation. For the first time, I didn't feel the immediate urge to reach for the pill bottle.

I carefully swung my legs out of bed and stood up. The room didn't spin, and my entire body felt remarkably lighter.

"What are you doing?" Roberto’s voice sounded from the doorway. He was by my side in an instant, his arms around my waist just in case my balance gave out.

"I think I'm actually okay," I said, looking up at him with a genuine smile. "I wanted to see the damage."

I walked slowly over to the full mirror in the corner of the room to inspect my reflection. The angry, dark purple bruises that had dominated my eyes, breasts and stomach were rapidly disappearing, fading into faint, yellow-green shadows. Even the tight, uncomfortable swelling was also dissipating.

Roberto stood behind me, studying my face in the glass with a critical eye until his shoulders finally relaxed. "The color is returning to your face," he admitted, a note of relief creeping into his voice. "The swelling is almost completely gone."

"I think the worst of healing is behind me," I said.

“I agree, Marie,” Roberto said as he smiled. “Are you up for a shower? I know that those shower wipes can only do so much.”

“I’m so ready, friend,” I said with an even bigger smile. “Can I get my sheets switched out?”

“While you shower – there’s a seat in there, by the way – I’ll grab these sheets as well as your hospital gown and have someone come in with fresh sheets and a few clean hospital gowns,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll personally put these used sheets and gown in the incinerator.”

“Thanks, Roberto,” I said as I took the hospital gown off and threw it on the bed. “How can I repay you for taking care of me?”

“Any time,” he said. “There’s no need to repay me for taking care of you. It’s part of my job and I appreciate having patients like you.”

I switched my slippers to my flip flops and headed to the bathroom. I closed and locked the door behind me, grateful that late the one night Sera screwed with the security cameras so she could come to my room alone. I gave her all of my identifications and passports to hold onto for safe keeping until the night before I signed out. When she left my room that night and got back to her office, she fixed the security cameras. We were done with the hand off in less than two minutes so no staff member would be alerted to her coming to my room alone nor the fact the cameras were offline for a short window of time.

I turned the water on and put it as hot as I could handle it. Thomas, as wonderful as he is to me, dropped off my favorite shampoo, conditioner and soap at reception two days before unsure when I felt up to showering. He knew not to bring face wash for me as I think it’s overrated and use the same bar of soap that I use for my body for my face. I refused to see him due to how I looked – heavily bruised, swollen and unbearable because of the pain but he understood how I was feeling. Once in the water, I washed my hair three times and conditioned my hair twice. I lathered up my entire body with soap about a million times before I used the body wash that he bought me. I showered quickly but stayed in the water for over an hour.

When I was ready to get out, I was a little sad that the shower ended but knew that it’d help with my healing process. I grabbed a towel for my hair and one for my body. I was quick with the towel for my hair as I wrapped my hair up and super careful with the towel for my body as I didn’t want to bust any stitches open. I dried off, put on some deodorant, hung up my towels, brushed my hair and headed into the main area of my room. The bed was made and there were several hospital gowns on the fresh bedding. I threw on a gown and stored the rest on the dresser. I switched the wet flip flops to my slippers then brought the slippers to the bathroom to dry upside down in there.

I grabbed the book authored by Allison Weir, got situated the best I could on the bed and started reading. As always, Ms. Weir's books are excellent—her books are a mix of fiction and non-fiction, historical, and causes the reader to be engrossed by what is written.

I was completely absorbed, with just a few pages left of the book, when the door to my room slowly clicked open.

Thomas stepped inside, freezing the instant his eyes met mine. He knew that I'd be pissed that he was seeing me like this, and the way he carried himself proved it.

"I know, I know," Thomas said quickly, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture before I could say a word. "I shouldn't be here. You told me not to come, but I was going crazy not seeing you."

"Thomas," I sighed, letting the book drop slightly against my lap. "What did we agree on?"

"We agree that I would wait until you arrived back to your apartment," he said, taking a tentative step closer to the bed, his eyes scanning my face with a mixture of concern and relief. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Thomas, you know what this means,” I said. “Due to your failure to respect my boundaries, not only do I have to kick you out of my hospital room, I have to kick you out of my life for the time being.”

“What? That’s ridiculous,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” I said. “You know who and how I was from the get go when we were children. Since you failed to respect my boundaries, this is how it needs to be. Please leave.”

Thomas stared at me, his jaw tightening as the absolute finality of my words sank in. For a second, he looked like he wanted to argue, to plead our years of history, but the cold look on my face stopped him. He reached down to the bed, snatched his keys with a sharp, metallic rattle, and turned on his heel. He walked out, slamming the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

The sound of his exit echoed off the walls, leaving the room ringing in a sudden, heavy silence. I let out a slow, shaky breath and reached for the bedside telephone receiver.

I dialed zero for the front desk.

"Reception, how can I help you?" a polite, professional voice answered on the second ring.

"This is DeppGrl Smith in room 412," I said, my voice steady. "I’m not accepting any outside visitors, effective immediately. None at all."

"No visitors at all, Ms. Smith?" the receptionist confirmed, the faint clicking of computer keys starting up in the background. "Does that include family and friends?"

"I said no outside visitors…..that includes family and friends," I replied flatly. "No exceptions. If anyone asks for me or tries to come up to my room, they are to be turned away immediately."

"I've updated your chart and flagged it for security," she said. "No one else will be let up."

"Thank you," I said, and hung up the phone.

A few minutes later, the door opened quietly again. Roberto came back up to my room to see how I was after kicking Thomas out.

"I saw Thomas heading for the elevators and he looked livid," Roberto said, studying my expression. "Are you doing alright?"

"I'm fine," I told him, leaning back against my pillows. "It sucks when people don't respect boundaries. I kicked Thomas out of my room and from my life for the time being. If anyone calls or comes in to ask if they can visit me, first deny that I’m here and then say that they can’t visit anyone who’s a patient here. And yes, security has been notified that I’m not seeing anyone.”

Roberto nodded as he was clicking away on his computer. I knew he was writing a scathing email to the receptionist who let Thomas in and that I didn’t list anyone as approved visitors. While he was finishing up the email, I finished the book. A few minutes later, Roberto and I looked at each other and asked each other: “All finished?”

“Are you ready to join the other patients in the dining hall?” he asked.

“Sure,” I sighed. “I’m going to wear a robe or a sweatshirt over this gown…I don’t want everyone to see my sexy fat ass.”

“Wear whatever you want to wear as long as you’re comfortable,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with your ass.”

I grabbed a sweatshirt and Roberto helped me as putting any kind of clothing hurt especially my now lifted breasts. I groaned.

“When are these stitches going to be removed?” I asked.

“I’ll send a message to the doctors once you’re in the dining hall and ask them,” he said. “Hopefully I receive an answer soon and maybe we’ll get the stitches removed tonight.”

I nodded, grabbed the book and we headed to the dining hall. Both Roberto and I knew that I could handle the walk but as a safety precaution, he walked with me. Once in the dining hall, I deposited the book on the bookshelf and grabbed another book before sitting down in the corner.

The same dining hall employee that took care of me the first night that I was here, took care of me again.

They walked over to my table with a friendly smile.

"Good to see you! How is your recovery? What can I get you to eat and drink?"

"I want tons of water to drink, some kind of pasta of your choice, a salad, and some chicken," I said.

The employee smiled warmly and nodded. "You got it. I'll head back and figure something out in the kitchen for you."

As I was waiting, I decided to check the bookshelves again to find another book. It took me some time as I had many of these books at my different apartments and the ones that I didn't have, I've already read thanks to library loans. I stood up and walked over to the wooden shelves, trailing my fingers along the spines of the well-worn novels. My eyes scanned the titles, looking for anything that could hold my interest, but finding a new story was always a challenge when I kept such a massive rotation of reading material scattered across my places. I let out a soft sigh, pulling out a couple of paperbacks to inspect their back covers, determined to find a book that could distract me while my food was being prepared.

Since none of the books caught my attention, I decided to sit down at the table that I sat at the other night. Moments later, the dining hall employee headed in my direction with a tray of food.

“Sorry for the delay, Ms. Smith,” they said. “The chefs and cooks were trying to get a bit creative for you. They made a chicken pasta primavera and a house salad with grilled chicken. I’ll bring water over to you momentarily.”

“Thanks so much, friend,” I said. “Wow. These are humongous portions! Don’t worry – I’ll eat it all. I’m so hungry. No rush on the water.”

The employee smiled, nodded and left with the tray. I dug into my food and boy, was it incredible. I could swear that my brother, Bob, had a hand in making the chicken pasta primavera. When the employee came out with an empty water glass and a pitcher of water, I had to ask them if my brother was in the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry to ask this and trust me, I get respecting the privacy of staff but I’m curious about something,” I began. “Is there a super attractive chef named Bob back there? He’s about six feet tall, blond, blue eyes and extremely loud and obnoxious?”

“I take it you used to work in restaurants before,” they said. “How did you know Bob was here? Do you personally know Bob?”

“I did, many years ago,” I said. “Bob is my friend. Please feel free to let him know that his favorite sister is ready to yell at him.”

“I certainly will,” the employee said as they laughed then headed back into the kitchen.

I enjoyed the rest of my meal and texted Sera.

Why is Bob working in the kitchen at this hospital? Did you tell him that I was safe? I sent to my former lover turned protector.

My phone buzzed with her reply just a few seconds later.

He doesn't know you're in my hospital and yes, I told him you were safe. I had to let him know something so he wouldn't drive himself crazy worrying. You know your brother – over protective of you. Sera sent.

Before I could even respond, Bob came running out of the kitchen to hug me. He grabbed me in his arms and lifted me out of my seat. The second I groaned in pain, my brother loosened his grip on me and let me go, gently putting me back on my chair.

“Another slight upgrade, Duchess?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I had to,” I said. “I came in hot looking for Rob. The wrong people heard and some friends suggested I go into hiding right in the public.”

“I understand,” Bob said. “Who’s keeping an eye on Rob?”

“Vic.”

“And who’s keeping an eye on Vic?”

“Thomas.”

“Oh for fucks sake! That horny bastard??”

“Yes, that horny bastard,” I said with a giggle. “You should be more worried about Vic and I being in the same country as he’s hornier than Thomas.”

“You’ve fucked them both?”

“Both separately and at the same time.”

“Who haven’t you fucked here in Italy?”

“The pope. He took a vow of chastity. I’m not sure if he’s keeping the vow or not, but he’s the pope,” I said. “Not that he’d look in my direction or not as I’m far from looking like Heidi Klum!”

“Dude, really?” Bob said. “You’re my kid sister and always will be. I don’t want to hear about your sexcapades, ok?”

“I hear you,” I said.

“Look, I have to go back to the kitchen or my cover will be blown,” he sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “No one but you and Sera know that I’m here. I also don’t want anyone to know that we’re related.”

I nodded my head and let him go. I finished eating my meal and headed back to the room. Sofia, the hairdresser, was just outside of my room.

“Larissa, it’s so good to see you on your feet,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Thanks, Sofia. I’m feeling more human today,” I said. “I ate and I showered today.”

“That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering if you have the energy to swing by the salon with me so we can get a better look at your hair under the lights in there. We’ll go by the windows as well, if you’d like.”

“I definitely have the energy for us to check out my hair,” I said. “Andiamo!”

It didn’t take us long to get to the salon from my room. I sat in a chair near the windows as it could help Sofia check out my hair.

“Hmmmmm. Between the lights in here and some natural light, it kind of looks like you’re a bit orange rather than red,”  she said. “I kind of expected this as we went from a faded black to blonde to attempt red. Mind if we step outside so I can get a better look?”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “I am getting a little weak on my feet though.”

“We’ll be quick and there’s hand railings out there,” she said. “Plus, I was a nurse in my former life.”

I nodded and we headed outside. The sun and the warm air felt great on my skin. Sofia let me soak up some much needed rays before she checked my hair again.

“We’re still orange but a little bit leaning towards red,” she said. “Are you up for going red right now or do you want to rest before we try again?”

“I’m good to go,” I said. “I plan on checking out midmorning tomorrow. So, if we can’t get this now, we have until tomorrow morning.”

Sofia worked her magic with the dye in the back before coming back out to work on my hair. As she set her supplies down, she heaved a massive sigh.

“What’s up, friend?” I asked.

“I got a little carried away,” she sighed again. “I didn’t do the math right so if the dye is applied, you’ll get the attention that you don’t want to have.”

“Let me guess, I’ll basically have bright red hair and it’ll only look partially real?”

“You got it.”

“I’m ok with it,” I said. “I asked for a completely different look with my hair and you’re doing it.”

“You got it, Larissa!” she said with a smile.

I sat in her seat and let her do her thing. It didn’t take her long to apply the dye to my hair and put my hair in foils. After setting for a long time, Sofia removed the foils and took me to the sink to wash my hair. She used a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner to add a little moisture to my hair.

“Alright, my dear,” Sofia said as she turned the chair to face the mirror. “What do you think?”

“I love it!” I said genuinely. “I always wanted fire engine red hair and now I have it. Thanks, Sofia!”

I got out of her chair and gave her a big hug. I knew that I needed to text Sera when I got back to my room to ask meets beg her to give Sofia a raise.

“I’m so glad that you love it, Larissa!” she beamed. “For upkeep of your hair, use sulfate free shampoo and conditioners, no hot water for washing and conditioning your hair and find a conditioner that deposits some red coloring into your hair. It’ll help maintain your hair until your next salon appointment…whether it’s here or elsewhere.”

“I appreciate you and your work, Sofia,” I said. “Thank you again for an amazing job.”

“You’re very welcome!” she said as I headed to my room. Moments later, I sent Sera a text.

Your main stylist, Sofia, is amazing and gave me a fresh look. She did more than I could ever ask anyone to do to change my hair. Honestly, she deserves a raise for doing miracles with my hair. On a different note, I am leaving tomorrow morning and need all of my passports and documentation. You can trust Roberto with them as he and his family are tsarists – he knows that I’m Marie Alexandrovna Romanove, rather than Larissa Barlowe. Rather than risking us blowing our covers, Roberto can do the hand off. I sent Sera

I have often been complimented on Sofia’s professionalism and talent. I guarantee that she’ll receive a raise. Yes, I know Roberto and his family well. I’ll provide him your documentation before rounds tonight so that it’s one less thing for you to worry about when it’s time for you to leave. She sent.

I mean it, Sera. I want everything….none of my possessions remain in your hands. As soon as I’m ready, I need to go to the Italian government and tell them that my professional services for them and with them are terminated on my terms. I sent.

Heard loud and clear. He’ll be there shortly with everything.  She sent.

I put my phone down and started packing my clothes. Once I showered and dressed in the morning, I’d be out the door so fast. Moments later, Roberto knocked on my door before entering.

“Miss Larissa, I have some paperwork that the owner felt that you needed,” Roberto said loudly. I knew someone was nearby. “She said that she’d make sure your paperwork would be ready for you first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you, Roberto. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me the last few days,” I said. “You’ve been amazing and my healing wouldn’t have progressed as well as it has had you not been involved with it.”

Roberto nodded and handed me my passports, documentations and other forms of identification. I gave him a quick smile before he left. I secured everything that he had handed me in my bag.