Someone to Love (8 page)

“No!” exclaimed Fiamma. “I don't believe it!”

I nodded. “I swear.” On seeing her expression I had to suppress my laughter. “Then, as if that wasn't already bad enough, I locked myself out of the house and that asshole had to give me a ride back here to get the spare keys. If I see him, I'll kill him with my own bare hands.”

“Slow down, who are you talking about? You want to kill Alberto?”

I sighed deeply and walked across the room to get a bottle of water. “Diego…”

Fiamma looked at me while I passed next to her. “Ooookaaay. What do you mean, Diego?”

“Yes, Diego.”

“Oh, God. That Diego? Come on, tell me…” Fiamma caught my eye and was prepared to ask further questions. “Why did he bring you here, and why are you so angry?”

I shrugged, trying to answer silently. Fiamma brought both hands to her mouth in horror. “You had sex!”

“No, no!” I replied firmly.

Fiamma enthusiasm faded. “As I imagined…”

“I'm ignoring you,” I said, shaking my head.

“Are you thirteen or what? You're too fussy…”

“After what happened to me, I really don't think so. He made me look like a fool with my neighbour, who I will never be able to look in the eye again, and saw me with my ass up in the air while trying to break into my own house. Then he gave me a lift to the clinic to get my spare keys and he even had the cheek to come on to me…”

“That's not so bad.”

“I still can't believe he did it, we're not even friends, damn it!” I snapped, “Fiamma, this conversation will remain between us.”

Fiamma was stubbornly disillusioned with the concepts of eternal love and lasting relationships in her own life, but when it came to others, she turned into a champion of ‘romance'.

“I don't want to justify his behaviour, but maybe you gave him the wrong impression. Or he just wanted to be nice.”

“Fiamma, you know I'm a girl who knows how to take a joke, and Diego did not have the attitude of someone who wanted to be funny.” I said defensively.

“I can't believe you're so… so boring.” A moment of silence, then she became more serious. “Seriously, I don't know him. I hope you were able to manage the situation without jumping on him, because I see no other choice. Because you're adamant in continuing with your abstinence, right?”

“You always exaggerate. I do what I want, including sex.”

“Sex? You're having sex? Anyway, you should relax and concentrate on the pleasant things in life. You have two men, choose one and dive in. What have you got to lose? If it goes wrong with one, you have the other. Look, even your horoscope says so,” she waved her hand to emphasize the concept.

“Right. So you think I should be more polite and available, and with ‘dive in' you mean explore new horizons?” Fiamma tilted her head to one side and looked at me. “Really amusing, but said like that they seem like swear words. Anyway, tell me about the evening with Alberto? Is he to be deleted from the list of potential suitors as well?”

“It wasn't so bad.”

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

“No big deal. We chatted and went for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Yes, a walk. Isn't that sweet?”

“Oh, give me a bag I'm about to throw up. If you're twelve years old, and Mum and Dad only let you out in the afternoon—” she said with a smirk. “But perhaps all this is positive: you can get to know… Alberto better.”

“Yes, and among other things, he also invited us to go out one of these nights.”

“That's what we need. It's a clear sign of destiny. This year's mission is finding you a man, and all you have to do is let yourself go.”

I wasn't lacking proposals, but I still hadn't met anyone who deserved the time and effort required for a relationship.

“Let's hear it, what do you suggest?”

“You will go back to re-discovering certain pleasures in life you had forgotten,” she reached into her purse and pulled out a coloured envelope. “Meanwhile, take this.”

I caught it. “You just gave me a—”

“Condom, call it by its name.”

“I have a condom. In my hand…”

“That's right, but don't worry, I have others.”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing like little girls, uncontrollably. It was like being back at school, when the teacher would find us out in some misdemeanour and, to punish us, would write a note in the register.

Then I went serious. “I can't be like you, at least not any more. I need people that stay around.”

Fiamma stood in
that
position: legs apart and hands on hips, and I thought how little she had changed over the years. “I always get very sleepy when you speak about your private life. Why are you like this every time? You have to give a shred of a chance to some of these poor men. You just want to be safe and that is an entirely different thing,” she said in a mocking tone.

I looked at her, puzzled, and remained speechless while I searched for a. reply.

“But I'm happy like this.”. Lying was almost habitual.

“Yeah right, tell someone else.” she stared at me and shook her head.

I looked at the opposite wall, where a large clock in the shape of dog bone marked eight o'clock. “I'd better go now, otherwise I'll not have time to rest. See you later and we'll talk, okay?”

“And stop looking at me like that. Promise me that you'll think about it.”

“I promise,” I said with a smile, but it came out sad and forced. I stamped a kiss on her cheek and called a taxi to go home.

“I'm leaving. Bye Bubu!” I said aloud, pretending to open the door.

He got up from the mat where he lay, and ran in my direction at great speed.

*

On the way home I couldn't stop thinking about Diego. It was clear that we were temperamentally incompatible and he did everything he could to annoy me. The taxi dropped me off in my drive and curiosity led me to look at his house. It was an absurd situation, I knew it, but my heart didn't agree.

As soon as I entered the house the phone started ringing and the notes of
We Are The Champions
filled the room. I rummaged through the inside of my bag, hurriedly trying to find the phone. Whenever I had to look for something in that small universe, there was drama. I watched the number on the display for a few seconds: it wasn't in the memory.

“Hello?” I asked curiously.

There was a background hum. “Hello, is this Mia Vitale?” asked a female voice. “I'm calling from the hospital. The Director, Raimondi, gave me your number.”

Almost breathless with surprise, I tried to recover. “Yes, good morning,” I said.

“The Director asked me to contact you to arrange an afternoon meeting today. If you are available, he has some time to dedicate to your project.”

“Really? Today?” I let out a sigh of relief, glad of the opportunity.

“I could schedule the appointment at two thirty. Do you think you can make it?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“We'll be waiting for you,” she said ‘goodbye' and ended the call. I heard the sound of a motorcycle and jumped up. I peered through the curtains, Diego had come home. A grey car had parked near the entrance to his drive and Diego hurried to open the door. A woman got out of the car and took his arm, following him into the house.

Before closing the door, Diego turned to look up at my window. I quickly leaned back against the wall. Heck, just in time. My heart was pounding. Had he seen me? I tried to peek through the fabric again, but now there was no trace of Diego or the woman.

I began to walk up and down the room, following the grain of the wooden floor and turning a strand of hair through my fingers.

It was clear that he wanted to be seen and show me that my refusal was not a big deal. It was a challenge, but I wouldn't give in.

Ever.

*

The hospital was a mosaic of stories, some written and others yet to be written. The rooms were all the same, yet each story was unique: the people they had hosted and let go of and those they would keep. Everything was cold and colourless: the faces, the stretchers, the chairs. A smell of disinfectant permeated the entire building and contributed to my nausea.

I scanned the central wall, with large windows overlooking the garden. I passed some nurses exchanging papers whilst deep in conversation and walked to the Director's office on the second floor. The door was ajar.

“Come in,” he urged, as soon as I knocked.

I felt a tingle of excitement. “Hello, I am a bit early, I hope it's not a problem,” I said apologetically. He stopped writing and looked up. “Not at all, in fact, make yourself comfortable.”

He retrieved a folder from a filing cabinet, then sat down again. “So, I think, as a veterinarian, I'm sure you're familiar with the risks and symptoms of certain diseases. In this hospital, not only do we try to treat our patients, but we also work to organize therapeutic activities. This is why I accepted your proposal.”

I nodded, flattered. The Director showed me some papers, sliding his finger over a few lines. I listened in silence to the outline of the patient's situation.

“Leukaemia, right?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “The situation, I must admit, is clearly improving. The number of white blood cells is approaching the optimum level again,” he answered quietly.

“Of course…” I checked the patient's data “… being only six and fighting for your life, is not what any parent would want for their child.”

“His mother is back and forth every day, and with all my heart I hope he can return home very soon. If he keeps improving there'll be no reason to keep him here and he can celebrate his birthday out of the hospital,” he explained.

“This is really good news. I'll try to help them smile a bit more, I can do that.”

I liked the tone I was using, I had practised in the car on the way here.

“Then, in addition to Lukas, you'll meet Giulio and Martina,” he continued, arranging the papers on the desk.

“Martina is the youngest of the group and is on the waiting list for a heart transplant, while Giulio is an autistic boy. He's not been admitted to our hospital, but he's the son of one of our employees and has become a little like our son as well,” he crossed his arms, adjusting his back in the chair. “Martina is Lukas's play mate, it's nice to see how genuine friendships can be born in places such as these.”

I limited my reply to “Then it will be easier to think of activities they can do together,”

“I see you are anxious to begin. So, let's not waste any more time, we can continue our talk outside the office,” he said. “Please, after you.” The Director gave me a nod of encouragement as he rose from his chair.

“It's time to introduce you,” he said, inviting me to walk with him.

As we went down the corridor I lost myself observing the coloured drawings on the walls that told, in words and pictures, so many stories.

The Director stopped in front of a door. He looked through the small porthole, then he pushed it open firmly.

I stepped into the room and was momentarily disorientated and bewildered. Memories surfaced and certain images materialized in my mind. I saw a strange room no longer, but my grandfather sitting on the edge of the chair clutching, with trembling fingers, the bony hand of his wife. They had been through so much together. And he couldn't resign himself to the idea of losing her, the greatest gift that life had given him. He begged to leave a world where he no belonged, to be with the woman who had stolen his heart so many years ago.

For a moment it was like having them back, but without the possibility of keeping them with me.

The room was quite spacious and overlooked a beautiful garden. The light from the large window illuminated the flowers on the windowsill and the balloons at the side of the bed. Some drawings were on the table, and others were stuck on the wardrobe door with tape.

A woman sat in a chair with her back to me, blocking my view of the patient in the bed. Smooth black hair fell down her back. She turned and looked startled for a moment, but then rose to greet me. Her lips didn't move.

“This is Gemma, Lukas's mother,” said the Director.

“Hello,” she ventured with an uncertain smile.

“Mia…” I said, in the most natural tone possible.

“And this young man is Lukas, Gemma's son,” added the Director, tickling the child lying in bed, while he tried to wriggle away.

He had lost a tooth, and when he laughed it was impossible not to notice it. His laughter was infectious.

I addressed Lukas. “Hello, I'm Mia. Nice to meet you.”

The boy turned to his mother and whispered something in her ear. Lukas was completely bald. His face had a beautiful expression, marred only by dark circles around tired eyes. He was thin, but not excessively. A stuffed teddy bear reclined at his side.

I breathed deeply, feeling a knot in my stomach. Then a nurse entered with a tray containing a syringe, a vial and a tourniquet. The child sighed, and the nurse patted his hand before proceeding with the routine sampling.

It wasn't fair. That boy had every right to live a childhood of scraped knees and carefree games. He had just started to enjoy the beauty of the world and fate had condemned him.

To try and distract Lukas, I blew into a rubber glove, and produced a cock's crest, I tied it so as not to let the air out, and imitated the bird. I felt quite ridiculous when I made the sound, but Lukas didn't seem to mind. He was laughing.

The nurse left out with his blood sample. “Look what a beautiful plaster,” Lukas showed us proudly.

“It's the champions' plaster, with all those dragons.” Lukas refused the compliment. “I have to take it off before I go back to school or all my friends will laugh at me.”