Giuseppe just called from his hermitage. He called London first and Lauren told him that I had left her. Then he called Reading. He told me to return to Lauren and the children. No discussion, no argument, no emotion, no nonsense. “Go back to your family,” he said evenly. I giggled a lot during our short conversation, but he did not. Giuseppe was not kidding.

Addendum (January 16, 2000)

No sooner than Giuseppe and I hung up, I called Lauren. The phone was busy, though. From the speed with which the answering machine kicked in, I could tell that she was on her computer, which was connected to the Internet. I left a brief message that I will call again after I return from my father’s nursing home, where I was about to go with my mother. I called again when I returned, but I got the answering machine. Lauren was still on her computer. When she returned my call half-an-hour later, I invited her and the children to come to Reading. She told me she could not. The first reason she gave me was that she already told the children that I was on a business trip; she did not want to confuse them with my sudden return and my absence after their visit to Reading. Then she said that she was so shaken by my call that she could not possibly face me. Indeed, her voice was shaking, unsteady. She was deeply upset. We then agreed that we should talk again in about a week. However, Giuseppe called me again today and asked me why I was not yet with my wife and children. I explained what I had done, and he was happy to hear I attempted to do what he had asked me to do. I promised to keep trying, but I told him that it might take a while for the family to be reunited. Then he asked me to leave a message for him at the answering machine in his hermitage as soon as that happens. “I will be praying for you,” he said. I laughed: “That’s the only thing you can do over there.” For the first time, he joined me.