Someone to Love (3 page)

The sound of his pager broke that moment of embarrassment. “I'm so sorry, I really have to go.”

“No problem, I'll see you soon. Thank you, Doctor, for your kindness and patience,” I said, holding out my hand.

A long silence.

Alberto squeezed it firmly and his face broke into a sweet and seductive smile. “Call me Alberto.”

I bit my lip and watched him walk away one step at a time until he turned and slipped into one of the rooms. I stood there for a moment wondering what Fiamma would have thought. Certainly he would have passed with flying colours.

*

When I got home that evening, my back ached. I sat down on the sofa to catch my breath, stretched my legs and let myself fall into a stupor.

The sound of nails on the floor startled me. I looked at the clock and realized it was almost time for dinner.

“What now?”. I scolded Bubu, who was running impatiently around the room. To be honest, I knew what he wanted. With time, I had learned to recognize every signal.

“Can't you wait for five minutes? Or better still, you're free to go out and come back whenever you want, you're of age now, at least according to the age of dogs,” I muttered, frowning.

Bubu didn't seem to like the proposal and jumped on the sofa, scratching my arm with his paw.

I laughed and hugged him. “Okay, message received and understood. Come on.”

I pulled on a hooded sweatshirt and took him for a walk.

I inherited my love for animals from my grandparents. I used to spend entire evenings in my grandfather's arms, sitting on the sofa watching documentaries and bombarding him with questions like a small machine gun. I was a very talkative little girl.

I shivered and pulled up the hood, taking care to cover my ears.

Bubu would stop at every tree to mark his territory.

The street lamps shed a dim light along the road. Many windows of the houses nearby were lit, illuminating the night. I let myself be carried away by the jazz music that filled my ears from my inseparable iPod. I walked slowly, swaying my hips to the beat, letting my body follow the rhythm of the notes.

A black car raced by at high speed and stopped in front of the house to the right of mine. At first, it didn't seem to be slowing down, but then it braked suddenly with a loud grinding of tyres.

The darkness of the night didn't help to identify the face of my new neighbour, but I was sure that from the passenger's side a nice pair of female legs had dropped out.

Oblivious to the situation, Bubu went to sniff whatever he met along his path, then raised his nose to look at me, nostrils flared to catch the air, and continued undaunted, jumping from one puddle to the next, splashing mud everywhere. It was just what he did.

That must be Diego, I thought. Curiosity was eating me up.

I woke up with a start from a strange dream. It was summer and I was resting on a sun bed on a beach, and a flock of seagulls were drawing straight lines and spirals in a sky free of clouds. I was surrounded by palm trees and colourful houses, and seemed to be the only tourist there. In the distance, the sea was dotted with boats with sails swollen by the wind. Everything was muffled and quiet.

When the stranger emerged from the water, I didn't think twice. I ran to him and finally saw his face. With one hand I touched his cheek and felt his stubble against my fingers. He reciprocated with a look of appreciation. Did he want me as much as I wanted him?

I turned towards the alarm, yawning, with the feeling of not having rested at all. I snuggled under the duvet: it was too early to come back to reality. I closed my eyes, hoping that the dream wouldn't fade away, but I could feel it disappearing quickly and becoming confused.

With my head buried in the scented lavender pillow, I tried to fall asleep again and to focus once more on the beach. Bubu's whining made it impossible.

I got out of bed and walked to the window. The sun was high when I threw open the shutters and from the end of the road came voices. I peered out and saw that the black car in the driveway had gone leaving deep ruts in the wet earth.

I didn't understand why, but the situation began to tickle my curiosity.

I took a hot shower, shaking off the remaining traces of the dream. The water slid over my body, re-awakening it. I breathed in deeply. Why was I so fascinated by my new neighbour, without having even seen him? How pathetic.

After quickly drying my hair, I put on the clothes I had laid out the night before and walked towards the hall. I was about to slip my jacket on when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, I raised my hand to protect my eyes from the light, and in front of me appeared a man, haughty, with bold features and an important nose, which didn't look at all out of place on that face.

A strong fragrance invaded my nostrils. A familiar fragrance, which brought me back in time, awakening childhood memories. I remembered the games under the arbour of the house in the mountains, the soft slices of apple pie and my grandfather's jacket, with pockets always full of mints. Then, suddenly, I recognized him: he was the man that haunted my dreams. I couldn't believe I had met him and he was just as I had imagined him. What were the odds?

I was so stunned, that I remained motionless with my mouth half open. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't him and it took me a few seconds to be able to articulate any words. I must have seemed like a real idiot.

“Hello…” I stammered, in surprise.

He glanced at me with an indifferent look, and leaned against the doorway with his arms folded.

“I just moved into town and I appear to be your neighbour.” The voice was contemptuous and inspired anything but friendliness. He seemed so sure of himself.

“Mia, it's a pleasure. And you are…” I said in a small voice, holding out my hand and disguising the slight embarrassment.

“I'm Diego,” he said, drily.

The handshake was firm and an Apulian accent marked his voice.

Diego took his hand away from mine, he tucked back a lock of hair and looked at me with an anxious air. I had the impression he was nervous, he kept putting his hand on his belt and tapping his foot on the ground.

“Look, we have little time for small talk, let's talk about work straight away,” he said, sharply and impatiently.

I felt an unexpected anger. How arrogant. That man had created a barrier between us from the outset, making me uneasy. He lowered his sunglasses and I met his gaze: he had cold grey eyes, impossible to read.

“Ok, I'm listening,” I said seriously, putting an end to that silence.

“Vittorio just called me to inform me of a clandestine dog fight in an abandoned shed along the Highway. Two men are already on the spot, but we need your help.” He had regained the professionalism of a real police officer.

“Oh, my goodness! Give me five minutes to get the car keys and the first aid kit.”

“We have little time, come with me. We'll get there faster,” said Diego, indicating the motorbike, parked just ahead. Panic. What was I supposed to do? I wouldn't have got on that bike willingly even under the influence of some narcotic substance.

“Wow. It's impressive,” I said with mock admiration. Slightly too much emphasis, but overall, a good act.

His expression became attentive. “Really? Are you an expert in the field?” Diego's mouth contracted in amusement on seeing my expression.

“Excuse me?” I answered vaguely, acting as though nothing had happened.

“You're a bike fanatic?”

“Oh, yes… I love them!” I agreed, almost shouting, although my expression suggested otherwise.

Damned asshole, I thought. And why had I decided to lie like that? It wasn't the right time to boast of non-existing passions.

Diego held my gaze with determination. “Then hurry up, you're still here Do you want to drive it or not?”

I wanted to sink in shame. With what right did he dare make fun of me like that? Oh, yes, I would definitely talk to Vittorio regarding the new addition at the Central.

I tightened my lips and, irritated, turned and went into the house slamming the door. Diego, who was standing on the step, dodged deftly. What a shame it didn't hit him!

I was panicking. He must have realized that I was improvising. I didn't want to make things worse than they already were. There was nothing to worry about, it was just my new colleague and neighbour who invited me to tackle one of my worst nightmares. But who did I want to fool? I couldn't tell him that I had never placed my backside on a bike again after having nearly destroyed my ex-boyfriend's one.

“What now?” I just mumbled.

I looked through the peep hole and saw Diego with his ear resting on the door.

“What the heck?” I whispered, stifling a groan with my hand.

I ran the chain to open it just a crack.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Diego almost fell over, then walked away a few paces. “What's up?”

“Shit, you were eavesdropping?”

“Sorry, but I can't hear you very well, I was noticing that the front door is in very poor condition. Look here, there's a stain. You should see to it, it might be mould! Bad thing—”

I closed the door and through the peephole I saw that he had knelt to look at a specific point of my house, and was scraping off plaster with a fingernail.

“Ah, ah. I have to tell Vittorio that among other things, this guy is also loopy,” I muttered, annoyed.

I stood with my back against the wall, then I collapsed on the nearest chair. I looked around, as if the solution could materialize at any moment. I closed my eyes, trying to regain control of the situation. I opened them and met Bubu's gaze, he was lying under the table.

“Just do it,” I said decisively.

I took everything I needed, I checked that Bubu's water bowl was full and ran outside. Diego looked at his watch and handed me a helmet. “Never mind for now, we must go. Wear this and hold on to me!” he exclaimed, swiftly starting the bike.

As soon as I climbed onto the saddle, the motorbike sped away, gripping the road.

I wove my fingers round his waist; I could feel his muscles under the leather jacket. A sharp turn to the right forced me to hold on tighter, and I pressed into his back with the front of my body.

“Are you ok back there?” asked Diego.

No, I wasn't ok. My feet on the ground, that's what I needed. But I hid my fear and I just whispered, “It's fantastic!”

We proceeded for about ten kilometres along the main road. The bike sped along the ruined asphalt and gravel darted away at its passage. On the side of the road ahead was a long row of old trees, casting their shadows on some weathered billboards.

Finally the shed came into view. An imposing structure now in ruins and a perfect hiding place for illegal activities. The pitched roof had a large hole on the left side, covered with corrugated sheets, and the door, rusted by time, was wide open. In front of it were two police cars with sirens blaring and a mass of people shouting and waving. It was like being in a movie. I turned and saw other cars whizzing away at high speed. It had to be a big thing.

We stopped next to one of the cars, dismounted hurriedly and made our way towards the entrance of the shed. Within it, the police had rallied the men who hadn't managed to escape and were checking their documents. The names of members of an underworld network, who were already known to the police, had emerged. A vast central space had been used as a combat field. Two rows of string defined the area and all you could see were overturned chairs, tables in disarray and smashed beer bottles. The smell was unbearable, a mixture of dust, urine and stale sweat. Debris, garbage and dark stains littered the floor. There was broken glass everywhere, shining under the fluorescent ceiling lights.

The policemen began to search the few remaining criminals, confiscating money and knives. We knew from experience that organized dog fights almost always included other illegal activities.

My eyes fell on the combat zone, and I barely held back a retch: dried blood, hair and regurgitated food stained the floor.

I looked for the dogs and began patrolling with my eyes, although my legs were trembling.

“Here, Mia! They're here!” Diego shouted to be heard in the midst of all the noise.

Three pit bulls lay on the ground dying, and another was probably already dead. I approached cautiously and moved fragments of glass with my feet to be able to kneel down. I put my hand on the silent body to feel the heart beat, I tried to open his eyes to see if there was any sign of life. Nothing. He had died from the wound to his throat. I grabbed a blanket that was on the floor and covered him with it.

I moved on to the other dogs. The condition of the first worried me a lot, he was breathing heavily, and being shaken by tremors in quick succession, his body was marked by deep wounds and he was bleeding profusely. That dog was clinging to his life. His eyes were bright, shining with fear.

“Diego, we must take them away immediately,” I explained. “I'll call Antonio and Fiamma. We need the van and three cages to transport them to the clinic. At the moment, I can only monitor and disinfect them as best I can,” I said, looking for my cell phone inside my pocket.

My hand was shaking. It had been a long time, but that feeling kept following me, like a dark shadow behind me. I could still hear in my ears the desperate howls of the first dog I had assisted, the low-pitched sound that hung in the air. I was still young and a novice, and I couldn't look at that dying body. I watched him die in my arms, my hands stained with blood, and a colleague had held me close until my breathing had stabilized. Diego inquired if I needed help and, after I had said no, he went away to work alongside his colleagues.

The second dog stood up and, with a lightning reflex, he turned, snarling and showing teeth. His body presented clear signs of the struggle that had taken place a few hours earlier, in some areas one could glimpse the bare flesh where the bites had ripped open the skin.