Indigo had disappeared back up the stairs for more stuff, leaving Stefano and Hazel standing in the kitchen staring at each other.

“What’s going on?” Hazel asked. She felt a little teary again. Why was life so difficult?

“I don’t know,” Stefano said. “I came home, and she was already like this. Running around, screaming that you both need to leave. Will you really go?”

Hazel pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sank into it. “Oh, Stefano, I don’t know what’s going on with anyone right now. But I think we’ll be leaving, yes. Although I have to say I thought my mother would be hard to convince of that. At least this makes it easier.”

“But why?” Stefano moaned. “Why do you leave?”

She was so tired. Too tired to explain how everything had gone wrong. The huge mistakes they'd made. She opened her mouth to try, but a loud commotion outside saved her. Then she heard his voice. Dean!  A part of her had been hoping he would show up. But now he was here she wasn’t prepared to hear what he had to say. That he was going back to his perfect girlfriend and his perfect life so, thanks for the memories? She hoisted her body out of her chair with effort and moved to the open back door. Dean was standing on her back lawn, looking heartbreakingly sexy and sad. Atillio was with him, and some guy she didn’t recognize was yelling in Italian. Some guy who didn’t look that well, in fact he looked like a bum. Did they even have bums in Borgotaro?

“Dean,” she whispered. She was sure she'd been too quiet for him to hear, but his eyes looked up right away. He crossed rapidly to the back stairs and grabbed her hands, blocking her view of the other two men.

“What you saw, Hazel,” Dean began, urgently, “it wasn’t how it looked. Isabella and I are over. To be honest we never really began. It’s so hard to explain but will you let me explain before I go?”

Her heart sank. He was going. She knew he would be. She had kept one tiny speck of hope alive, but it withered with his words. Did she want him to explain? Did she care, if he was leaving her anyway?

"Oh Dean, I'm..." The drunk man crashed into Dean from behind but he stood steady as a rock, holding her gaze.

“Let me in so I can see my wife!!”

"Can we go inside, Hazel?" Dean stepped closer to her, his voice laced with urgency. Who was this guy and why was Dean ignoring him? He was a pitiful sight and Hazel immediately felt sorry for him. Although he also looked like trouble, so she didn’t particularly want him in her garden.

“Now, now Roberto.” Atillio stepped toward him and put an arm around his shoulders. “You're confused.”

"You know this man, Atillio?" Hazel looked over her shoulder for more help but Stefano had vanished and Indigo had yet to come back downstairs.

"Yes. Yes. Roberto's no trouble, are you?”

“Non voglio caffè, vecchio!" the drunk guy had turned toward Atillio and screamed unintelligible Italian into his face. Atillio had recoiled as if bitten by a snake. His breath must reek of alcohol - bourbon, if she wasn't mistaken. And Hazel could smell his sweat from here.

She turned her attention back to Dean. “I think you’d better go, and take these two with you,” she said. “Indigo’s having a break down, so I need to deal with her. I’m not sure if I can handle talking to you as well, Dean. This is too much for me right now. I’m sorry.”

“I said, I want to see my wife!” the drunk screamed again. He took another step toward Hazel, tripped over Dean's foot and tumbled onto the grass. Atillio leaned over to hoist him up just as Indigo appeared on the back porch. Hazel turned to her mother and her anxiety level ratcheted up a notch. She imagined herself in one of those cartoons, steam coming out of her ears. Her mother looked even worse than she had ten minutes ago. Her complexion resembled the greenish white of moldy yogurt. Hazel was stunned when she started screaming at the drunk man who leaned dangerously against Atillio.

“Roberto! Are you mad? Why did you come here? You know the rules!” Indigo’s voice was shaking as though she were on the verge of tears.

Hazel whipped her body around to give her mother the benefit of her full gaze. “You know this man?”

Indigo ignored her and stepped into the garden to Roberto’s side. She helped Atillio get him steady on his feet and then, very sternly, as though she were talking to a naughty child, said, “You need to go to Stella's with Atillio and sober up right now. Go with Atillio!”

“What's the matter? I can’t come and visit my own wife in my own house?”

This didn't make any sense. What was that bum talking about? His wife? His house? Hazel pushed Dean aside and moved closer to her mother and the scary drunk. “Mother, you’re scaring the crap out of me. What have you done? Is that why you want to leave? Have you eloped with some Italian stranger? Who is this guy?”

“Stranger?” The guy stepped forward and poked Hazel, hard, on the shoulder. “I know this woman for over thirty years. She’s no stranger. Do I know you? Your face looks familiar.”

Indigo stepped between them, her face now a bright and splotchy red. Tears threatened. “He’s drunk Hazel! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Please, please go back in the house and pack. I want to go home,” and then she did start crying. Hazel was stunned and completely disarmed by her mother’s tears. She reached out to pull her into a hug, but her mother pushed her away toward the house. “Go, please, go!”

This was crazy. Indigo wasn’t making sense. Hazel would not leave her mother here crying her eyes out with some crazy drunk guy drooling all over her. She turned to Dean. “Can you help us? Can you get this guy out of here?” Dean took a deep breath and shared a look with Atillio, Atillio nodded and Dean moved toward the Roberto guy. The bum took one look at Dean’s intimidating physique and starting screaming.

“You can’t make me go! This is my house. This is my wife!” And then Stefano re-appeared on the steps attracting Roberto’s attention. “You’re here too! Dio! Just one grande familigia!”

“I think you should leave,” Stefano called out from the top step, he seemed too terrified to come any closer.

“Oh, you’d like that boy. You’d like it if I disappeared.”

Indigo’s tears came to a sudden stop as her famous temper came roaring forth. “You, be quiet now!  Your mother’s nephew has a right to be here. And this is my house! Your mother left it to me. She left it to me because she knew you'd gamble it away. Just like you’ve gambled away the rest of your sad life. She knew how much money I gave you. She knew I needed to get back on my feet after spending my entire life rescuing you from problems of your own making.”

Hazel’s head was spinning. His mother was the one who had owned the house? This was Indigo's ex-boyfriend? Why did he say husband? Indigo had given him money? Indigo didn’t have any money. The only resources Indigo had were the endless checks and bank transfers Hazel had arranged, for various Indigo “emergencies”. Her mother could run through money as though she were shoveling it into a wood burning stove. And no wonder. She’d been giving it to this guy? This vagrant?

“I’m not Maria’s nephew, Indigo,” Stefano called to Indigo from the step, still keeping his distance. “I’m his son.”

"Oh Dio!" Atillio groaned and Dean reached up for her hand. What was happening?

Her mother's face change colors again, the deep, red flush of her anger fading into a green once more. “His… his son?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper now. "You didn’t tell me, Roberto. All these years and you never told me you had another woman, another son? How many people have I been supporting?”

Hazel had had enough. “Stop!” she yelled, and Indigo jumped. “What the hell is going on here, Mother? Who is this man? What is going on?”

Indigo sighed and sank down onto the grass. She dropped her head into her hands and shook it hard. Her hair flying about her face. She was really scaring Hazel now.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I never wanted you to know. I wanted you to have something different, someone different. So I made stuff up. I made up a parent for you who was better than me, better than… him." She looked up at Hazel, stretching out her arm to point a finger at the drunk man, and took a deep and shaky breath. "This is Roberto," she said. "This is your father.”