“Thank you!” I said, pulling away from his embrace and watching him leave my room without saying a word. Maybe wecan work together after all! I say quietly to myself, lying on my bed and looking up at the stars.
Luca left at the end of the weekwhile I was in class; after a short goodbye in the morning, no hugs, no kisses, no smiles or tears, he just left. He didn’t contact me when he arrived in Italy, and I decided I wouldn’t either; after all, we’re not even friends; all we did this week was practice self-defense and dinners with everyone together; we definitely don’t look engaged in anyone’s eyes.
Chapter 10
A month has passed since Luca’s visit, and in a strange way, I thought we had become closer, that we had become more than just acquaintances who should get married in a few years. I was wrong!
We never spoke again; I know he talks regularly to Francesco and Paolo, but never to me. I’ve noticed that they leave the room when he calls, and I wonder why. At first, I thought he had too much work to do to make up for the week he spent here, but as time went by, I realized that he just didn’t want to talk to me. I sent him a message a week after his return, asking if everything was all right. I looked like a perfect teenager, waiting for an answer that never came.
The teenager didn’t stop there. Even though I was hurting inside, I started searching his name on Google, asking my brothers how things were going with the Camorra in the hope that they would give me some information.
“Chiara, Paolo, and Francesco have been waiting for you in the living room for over half an hour. You’re going to be late!” I hear Aurora’s voice, but I can’t take my eyes off my image reflected in the mirror; I mentally point out everything I don’t like about myself, all the flaws that perhaps keep people away. I’m not ugly; I couldn’t possibly think of myself that way. I’m too much like Grandma Daisy on the outside to use that word to describe myself. But inside, I feel that something is so intrinsically wrong that no one dares to approach me—a clear waste of space, of air, of everything… “Chiara!” I feel her hand on my shoulder, and I look at her. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes… I think so.” I say, grabbing my bag and leaving the room before she does, trying to avoid questions. “I’m ready, let’s go!” I walk out of the house, hearing footsteps behind me, enter the elevator, and lean against the corner, staring at my face in the mirror and hating the way I look.
I feel the stares of the two men who follow me everywhere, and I ignore them. I get out of the elevator as soon as we get to the garage, get into the car, and lean my head against the glass, closing my eyes and wishing I didn’t exist.
I can’t pay attention to anything; my brain won’t let me focus, and I feel frustrated. I look at the blank page in front of me and see that the teacher is still talking non-stop, but I can’t hear a single word.
I get up from the chair, feeling the gaze of the body guards on me, I gesture to the corridor and they know I’m going to the bathroom. I leave the classroom and go to the bathroom. I look at my face in the mirror, and I look indifferent; I wash my face in a frustrated attempt to make my brain focus. I let out all the air trapped in my lungs, and I want to cry out of frustration, out of pain—a pain that I don’t know how it’s in me or why it showed up.
I walk out of the bathroom and see the corridor completely empty; everyone is in class. I look at my classroom, where my protectors are, and go the other way. I open the door and feel the cold London air hit my face. I walk out of college and see a taxicab stand; without really thinking, I get in one.
“Where to, madam?”
“Anywhere, anywhere nice, please.” I see him nod, and I lean my head against the window, not paying attention to where I’m being taken.
I feel my phone buzz and see that Francesco is calling me; I quickly hang up the phone and close my eyes to mentally undo the tightness in my chest, the knot in my stomach, and theanguish I feel throughout my being. I feel the car stop and see that I’m in St. James’s Park; I pay the driver and get out of the car, walking toward the park. Children run past me and smile, and I wish I could be like them. I sit in the park, feeling nature embrace me; I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but when I opened my eyes again, night had already fallen. I left the park and walked through the streets with no destination in mind. The city passes by me, the streets are full of people, and I’ve never felt so alone in my life; I look at people living their best lives, and I feel like I’m crawling into my own. I go into some café and order a hot chocolate to warm up; I feel the cold hitting my face and the temperature of the drink warming my hands. I keep walking until my legs hurt, and I don’t know where I am; I look around, and no one seems to notice me.
I walk some more until I find a cab and go home. I look at the clock inside the car and notice that it’s already after three in the morning, realizing that I’ve spent almost the entire day wandering around the city. One part of my brain screams that I’m irresponsible, that they must be worried about me, but the other part doesn’t care. I get out of the car, and as soon as I enter the building, I see the doorman pick up the phone, perhaps alerting someone to my arrival. I lean in the elevator wall and wait for it to reach the floor. When it opens, I see Francesco standing in front of it, not looking very happy.
“Where the hell have you been?” He says a little too loudly, perhaps too angry to try and hide it.
I walk past him, ignoring his question and his repeated calls. I go into my room, close the door, and walk to my bed, seeing my two best friends sitting on it with their arms open, waiting for me. Tears start to stream down my face, and I feel their arms wrap around my body.
They don’t ask questions, just hold me and listen to me cryfor hours; the sun is coming up when I get out of the shower, andthey both wait for me still in my bed.
“Are you sure you don’t want some company?” asks Leticia, clearly worried.
“Yes, I think I just need a few hours of sleep. Don’t worry!”
They both leave the room, still a little reticent. I finally turn on my phone and see one hundred missed calls from my mother, brothers, father, grandma, the girls, the security guards… none from him…
I send a message to my parents, brothers and grandmother, telling them I’m fine and that I needed to get some air. I lie in bed feeling the warmth of the blankets embracing me; I turn off the light and hug my knees, crying for the pain that insists on staying; I cry endlessly with only the stars as witnesses.
I wake up hours later, my body feeling heavy, without strength. My mind keeps going round and round, and the urge to cry comes back immediately. I sit up in bed, take a pill to relax, swallow it with water, and lie back down in bed, letting the drug slowly put me to sleep, knowing that at least for a few hours, the pain will sleep, too.
For three days, my body had no strength, my mind was foggy, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I couldn’t eat or leave the house; everything seemed too much; I felt empty of anything other than pain and anguish.
On the third day, the girls came home with a psychologist at their side, who talked to me for hours, made me laugh and cry, and finally got me to leave the room. As a “reward,” the girls decided that we should have dinner in Little Italy with my “savior.” I felt Paolo’s and Francesco’s gazes on me; they looked confused and didn’t know how to behave around me. I haven’t let them into my room during my days of confinement, and clearly, they are full of questions.
We enter the restaurant, and I feel Mia’s loving arms aroundme; ever since we arrived in London, we’ve formed a friendship with the owners of our favorite Italian restaurant. I hug her back, trying to give her a smile to reassure her that I’m fine, but she doesn’t seem to believe me. She has filled the table with my favorite pasta, saltimbocca, and risottos. She looks at me attentively, trying to make sure I eat, and I do despite the knot in my stomach. The air isn’t as light and cheerful as usual, and I constantly feel furtive glances in my direction, so I try to feign normality and continue to eat despite my lack of hunger.
Knowing my great love of sweets, Mia lays outbaci de mama, gelato, cannoli, panna cota, tiramisu, babà al rumandcassatain front of me. I shovel some sweets into my upset stomach, seeing a happy Mia in front of me. I smile at her and feel a kiss being left on the top of my head. I wish I was in the arms of my mother and grandmother.
I walk into the house without really saying a word, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, perhaps afraid that I’ll be locked in my room again.
