Right now, we’re sitting at the table, eating a formidable paella Carmen cooked for the occasion.
Dante and his wife brought a bottle of Nero d’Avola, a red wine that’s stinging my throat.
Shane drinks a glass after the other, and her eyes are becoming a bit cloudy. She stares at nothing and, from time to time, glances at Carmen.
She has this fixation with her head, like she’s constantly checking if the wound’s going to re-open again.
When Carmen speaks in a loud voice, because she’s particularly amused or dragged into a given subject, Shane whispers something into her ear and I know – even if I can’t hear her – that she’s telling her not to get too worked up.
And Carmen, usually very temperamental, simply smiles back and dims a little.
Tasha and Alice are right.
There’s something wrong going on.

“Carmen, let me tell you: your paella was excellent”, Dante says dreamingly, relaxing on the chair and rubbing his stomach.
Carmen smiles cordially.
“Aaw, thank you…”.
“I wish we had a cook like you in Afghanistan…”, he adds, poking at Tasha who sits right beside him.
“Were you a soldier?”, Shane asks unexpectedly, brusquely looking up at him.
“Sort of…”, he answers nonchalantly, and it’s quite clear that he doesn’t like to talk about it.
Cassandra clears her voice and stares at the table.
“And then?”, Shane says.
Dante blinks. He’s serious, now.
“…And then I got injured and I left”.
“What’s happened?”.
I stare at Shane.
Her eyes are glacial, attentive.
Dante shrugs, and despite his cool attitude, I can perceive that he’s going to chose his next words carefully.
“Not much, actually. A rocket-propelled grenade blew one of our hostage’s tent up, and I had fragments all over the left side of my body. The explosion was so powerful that even my balaclava flew off”.
“I’m sorry…” Carmen cuts in.
Dante smiles.
“Oh, don’t be, Carmen. The bright side of the matter is that, finally, I came back home and had the chance to marry my beautiful – and pissed off – fiancée”.
His smile widens as he watches Cassandra, who gently takes his hand.
Alice chuckles.
“Was she pissed off?”.
“Of course she was! Dante was never at home and Afghan women are beautiful, right Cass?” Tasha replies.
Everybody laughs and starts chatting again.
“Have you ever killed somebody?”, Shane asks then, in a low voice.
Dante’s chewing slows down as he narrows his eyes.
I guess I’m the only one, here, listening to their little conversation.
Shane is taking the bait.
“Yes”, he answers then, simply.
“Why?”.
“Because I had no other choice”.
Their eyes are locked, now.
“What do you mean?” Shane murmurs.
“I had to shoot them because, if I didn’t, they would shoot me. There are no other reasons, for me, to hurt or kill somebody”.
“It was your life or theirs”.
“Nothing more, nothing less”.
Shane sips her wine without breaking eye-contact.
Two pairs of identical green eyes.
“And how did you feel about it?”.
Dante purses his lips and carefully places the fork in the plate.
“I felt like shit”.
Shane doesn’t reply. She just slumps back on the chair.
“If only I could turn back time, I would find another way…”, he adds smoothly, “…because what I know now, is that killing them surely wasn’t. I feel lucky because I have the only woman I love beside me and because we can build our future together. Everything else just doesn’t matter”.
Shane glances at him and, for a while, seems troubled.
And seriously torn.