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Something—
“…. say Roma!” I heard voices, laughter, and the sound of water on the other end of the line. “Let’s get something from the café.”
There it was again…that dread. Looking over to the street again, I saw them. A group of tourists pointing to this very café. And in the distance, between the archways of the gallery across the pavilion, she stood in long, V-neck floral white dress, her long brown hair wavy, her grey eyes staring directly into mine.
“What’s wrong?” I said into the phone. Something was off. Her posture was odd; her shoulders were hunched slightly. She didn’t reply. She just reached up to what must have been a Bluetooth in her ear, turned, and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Calliope?
I wanted to call out, but all I could do was stand, nearly knocking over the server who came with Klarissa’s breakfast.
“Ethan?” She tried to get up, but again I held my hand out for her to stay where she was. I looked over to Tobias who got up from his table.
“Sir?”
“Wait for her to eat and then return her back to the house,” I ordered, taking my blazer from the chair.
“And you?—”
“I’m going for a walk. No one is to follow me.”
“Sir.”
I stepped into his face to look at him directly. “No one is to follow me, am I understood?”
He nodded, and I walked through the iron gates on to the cobblestone streets, crossing the pavilion to where she had just been. The closer I got, the clearer it became that she hadn’t left anything there. I dialed again but it didn’t even ring before I got a text.
Via Margutta 54A,
Spagna, Rome, Italy
It wasn’t far from here, maybe a seven-minute walk at most, however I took a longer route, making sure I wasn’t followed. I walked through neighborhood streets, something I remembered doing with my mother when I was child. Not in Rome, though. It was a good way to see people, our people, our way of life, on display and unfiltered. It was relaxing, but as I walked I couldn’t shake this feeling. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I the closer I got to this address the more I instinctively knew this would hurt. Whatever it was, this would hurt. I tried to think of what it could be, but for some reason my mind was blank, like I subconsciously did not want to know. Despite my dread and hesitation, my feet led me all the way to a townhouse on the corner of the street, the building itself partially covered in red flowers, as if they were fighting to swallow the house whole. Walking up the steps, I opened the wooden door, and pressed the button for 54A, which opened the second door inside, allowing me access to the staircase.
When I got to the door I paused, and as if she sensed me there, she opened the door. The emotionless look she wore earlier had intensified; her grey eyes looked lifeless, like she couldn’t see me…or maybe she saw right through me. She said nothing and stepped to the side, letting me in. She closed the door behind her, but it was more like she was securing a vault. From the outsid
e, it looked like normal door, but inside it was made of steel, with an automatic keypad.
I waited for her to acknowledge me; to explain what was going on. She did neither. She walked a few steps into a kitchen furnished in wood and stone and announced, “Giovanna has an ear infection; she’s resting in first bedroom. With the medications, she isn’t going to remember much of the day. If you want to see her, now is the chance.”
If I want to see her? What the fuck did that mean? I didn’t ask now, instead I put my jacket down on the couch and turned to walk down the hall.
“Wait.”
I turned back to her and she was holding a blonde wig and thick rimmed glasses.
“I’m not wearing those.” I was sick of wearing a disguise when I went to see my own damn daughter.
She didn’t bother asking. She met me outside the bedroom door and put the glasses on my face before shoving the damn wig on top of my head, packing my hair inside. She was concentrating hard, and even though she didn’t smile or even look at me, I found her cute. Just as I was about to reach out and touch her, she backed away from me, walking down the hall without another word. I watched her go for a moment before I reached for the doorknob. A green light blinked right beside it and the door opened. There in the middle of a large low platform bed, holding on to a stuffed lamb, was my little girl. Her dark brown hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, which were a little red, and she had an ice pack on her forehead. I stared at her for a few beats, listening to her soft snoring. Walking inside, I heard another beep, and I looked over to the mirror mounted on the wall where another small green light went on.
What happens if it isn’t green? Do I fall through a trap door? Ignoring it, I sat down beside her, brushing my hand on her cheek.
“Tesoro mia, perdonami, (My treasure, forgive me.),” I whispered softly to her, placing my hand on her forehead and luckily, she wasn’t burning up. “Papà avrei dovuto essere qui, (Dad should have been here.) Sei forte, (You are strong.).”
I kissed her cheek. She sniffled, turning on her side and holding her lamb tighter. She was beautiful, still so small, but from the videos and pictures Calliope had shared with me, none which ever lasted after I’d viewed them, our daughter was just as strong-willed, talented, and intelligent as her mother. Tucking her in more, I wanted to her see her smile.
“Mr. Nicci?” She sniffled again, struggling to keep her eyes open. She smiled and tried to lift her hand to wave. “Hi…”
“Hi…” I took her hand.
