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“I brought the buns you like,” Rafaella says as she enters Vittorio's room and turns on the lights.
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling like needles are going through them, and the monster that has moved into my womb decides it's a good time to sharpen its claws on the walls of its new home. After months without any signs, my period showed up at the worst possible moment and in its worst version too. The abdominal pain makes me writhe against the sheets at the same time that the pounding in my head shoots sharp impulses into my brain that can only be intended to drive me crazy.
“I'm not hungry,” I say softly, and my friend lets out an audible exhale.
“You need to eat, Gabriella. You can't just keep stuffing yourself with pain medication.” I would laugh if my body and heart gave me some slack for it.
How exactly am I supposed to remember to feel hungry when the sky seems to be falling in on my head, literally and figuratively? Bad weather is nothing new to me, in fact for most of my life it has been my natural habitat.
Still, after the night before last, I started to wonder if it was possible that, in the midst of all the chaos of my last few years,the universe was somehow sparing me or being kind to me in some way.
I entered Vittorio's office with a heart racing with apprehension and hope. All I wanted was to know that Raquel was okay, to do everything I could to ensure her safety, to beg, if necessary, to have her back in my life.
I left that room with my chest shattered by the knowledge that my sister is lost somewhere in this cruel world from which I spent so much time trying to protect her. And, as if that wasn't enough, I also received the news that my father is dead.
Dead. My father is dead.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him for abandoning me while he was alive, still, he was my father, and I simply can't ignore the pain his death caused me. I've always seen myself as someone who is extremely resistant to pain, but the truth is that, until very recently, I simply didn't care about feeling it.
“Please, Gabriella,” Rafa asks, sitting on the bed, next to my shrunken body, and I only realize that I'm crying when her fingers try to dry my face.
Vittorio probably told her part or all of what happened, because she knows, and it wasn't me who told her. In the last few days, I haven't had enough strength to say almost anything, even though the screams inside my head continue to echo endlessly.
“Let me help,” my friend says softly. “What can I do to help? Do you want another hot water pack? Do you want me to call the doctor?” she offers several options, but none of them are the only ones that could eliminate the suffocating feeling that the air around me is being stolen.
“I just want to sleep,” I murmur, and she nods.
“Then sleep. I'll stay here with you.”
“Can you turn off the lights, please?”
“Of course!” She replies, already getting up, and I breathe a sigh of relief in the middle of the darkness.
“Thank you,” I thank her when I feel the mattress sink slightly under Rafaella's weight. “Thanks.”
***
I don't know if it's his presence that wakes me up or if I feel it because I woke up, but I know he's here and I open my eyes. The dark room doesn't hide his face from my view. I take a deep breath, and the smell of him is an immediate dose of comfort.
I swallow anxiously, waiting for Vittorio to give me some news, any news. His arm reaches out in invitation, and I crawl over the bed until my body is nestled against his. The heat of his bare chest covers me, and I press my lips to the warm skin, absorbing it there too.
“How are you feeling? Is the pain gone?” he asks, sinking his lips into my hair, and I know he's referring to the pain in my body.
“It has improved a lot. What time is it?”
“A little after midnight.”
“Do you have news for me?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. If he had them, he would have given them to me already.
“No,bambina. Not yet.” I nod, confirming, despite the impossibility of him seeing the movement.
I close my eyes again, wanting, with all my strength, to black out. Wishing that when I wake up again, the answer to that question will be different.
CHAPTER 57
________
Vittorio Cataneo
