Someone to Love (20 page)

He laughed, and the sound of his laughter invaded the car. “And I'm supposed to spend two hours in the car with you?”

“What, are you afraid I might abuse you? Forget it, I don't have to force people, unlike you…” I said defiantly. He was playing with fire and I was ready to win the game.

Diego grabbed my wrist. “I won't let you to speak to me like that. I don't deserve it.”

“Calm down! I just wanted to say that you throw yourself into a thousand adventures because you're afraid to fall in love, you prefer to play it safe.” I would have fled had I not been locked in the car.

His expression changed, confused. “It's bullshit. Why are you so sure?”

“Yes, and she's not the only one. I saw you through the window, you were with another woman with black hair,” I answered, avoiding his gaze.

“Have you finished spying on me? It has nothing to do with you. And she's not my lover, if you must know,” he said, letting go of my wrist.

We had both forgotten about that contact.

“If she isn't anyone, why are you getting so upset?”

Diego avoided answering, he put the back of the seat down and called his boss to inform him of the little accident and the delay. The call ended, he turned onto his side and stared at the rain running down the window.

Pleasant music from the stereo lightened the tense atmosphere.

I began to feel my shoulders relax, as if until that moment I hadn't realized that I was holding them rigidly. I looked at Diego with his eyes lost somewhere else. I wanted to touch him, but my fingers were immobilized. His profile was perfect, and my eyes followed the curve of his nose to his lips. And there I stopped.

Diego turned suddenly. I flushed with embarrassment. I immediately moved my gaze to my legs and kept looking down. I started to feel stupid and naive. I wanted to say something, but I was transfixed.

He frowned. “I left you in peace just as you asked me, however, I want to know what bothers you,” he asked softly, bringing his hand towards mine.

I had to calm myself, but his closeness disturbed me. He tilted his head to one side and I blushed slightly. I was beginning to like Diego more than I would admit to myself. How was it possible? Maybe I'd told myself a lot of lies, was it possible that I had chosen Alberto because he was the easy option, what everyone expected from me? I didn't know how it was possible, but the pain I felt for him had dissolved as if by magic. Vanished.

“So, what are you thinking about?” Diego rephrased the question.

Very few centimetres divided us. “Kiss me, damn it!” I thought excitedly and that thought filled my head blocking out almost everything else. My gaze lingered on his lips, parted and perfect. Then I observed his eyes and wondered how he saw me. If he was like that with everyone or if that smile was just for me. What was happening to me? Diego was just a work colleague and my neighbour, nothing more.

The song ended and our breathing, slow and heavy, was the only sound. Everything then happened so quickly that I hardly noticed.

Diego pulled me towards him with one arm and with the other began to stroke my face, gently touching my mouth. His thumb tickled my upper lip with unexpected sweetness, his eyes fixed on mine. All fear and worry vanished the moment our lips met.

“Mia.” His voice brought me back to reality.

“Will you be quiet for once?”

To hell with my initial decision to control myself, I broke every rule. His hands moved, they went down along my waist and rested on my hips, holding them firmly. His fingers made their way under my sweater, exploring and caressing my bare skin.

Whatever was going on, I didn't want it to end. I closed my eyes and let myself be carried away by desire. I knew that feeling and let it slide inside me.

“I can stop if you want,” whispered Diego. His voice was so seductive.

Without realizing, he touched the scar on my neck, the one that I would hide with makeup so that the world would never see it. That scar, that reminded me each day of the mother I could have been.

I had never allowed anyone to kiss me there, not even my ex-husband. It was a too painful and private memory. I stepped back, separating myself from his grip.

“What have I done?” asked Diego, looking at me with a guilty expression.

I settled my hair to the side, covering that old scar. “Nothing, it's all a mistake. Soon they'll come to pick us up and I don't want anybody to see us,” I muttered, agitated.

It was at that moment that he gave me a big hug. And I felt safe, protected. Sheltered from the outside world once again. He touched the back of my head with his nose and stayed still in that position. I couldn't restrain myself and I let go little by little. I let my body vent, and wept without realizing it. I let go of all my anger, all the pain that time had only fed, and never eased.

“Mia, please don't cry,” he whispered.

“You don't understand. You don't know anything about me!” I stifled my words in his jacket. I clenched my fists. I was afraid to show my weaker side, I was afraid to let go of my past in front of him.

“It's true, I don't know much about you, but I'd like to know what makes you so sad.”

I was shaking and the heat I had felt moments before was gone. That was the moment, I thought. It was time to get rid of that weight.

“I haven't always been like this,” I said, without looking at him in the eye. “I was once a woman in love who believed in happiness. I loved life. I was happy, I had everything. A husband who adored me and so many projects. We wanted a child and a family. When I discovered I was pregnant, I was so happy…”

Diego gently took my face and looked into my eyes. “I had no idea. And then what happened?” he asked, his voice breaking.

I rubbed my arms, for they were cold, and Diego covered me with his jacket.

I narrowed my eyes. “I was in the fifth month of pregnancy. The child was strong and healthy. We would have called her Emma. A perfect pregnancy, never any complications.”

I was silent for a moment, letting myself be carried away by all those memories. I went on. “It was a split second. In one second I lost everything, a car accident took her away from me.”

I looked in the glove box for a handkerchief, but Diego was faster and handed me one.

“No one will ever give me my Emma back. This horrible scar is the only thing I have left of her. It's a curse that haunts me every day and reminds me of how happy I was. I hate it with all my heart. I learned that I have to look forward and not backwards, but there are times when I just can't. Moments when the past comes back…” I let my voice dwindle to a whisper.

Diego sighed. “You're a brave and determined woman. Life is made up of chapters, some long and magnificent, others short and painful. That was just one of many. Don't hang on to memories. You can't know what the future has in mind for you.”

The downpour eased and the sound of the rain turned into a light tapping on the glass. A pleasant sound, almost relaxing.

The arrival of the tow truck eased the situation. I felt relieved.

*

Once home, I continued to turn over in bed, unable to find a comfortable position. I noticed a wet spot near the chandelier, and I remembered that I had to do some maintenance work and soon. Since I inherited the house, I hadn't bothered to fix it, the pain of losing my grandparents was still too strong and I wanted to leave everything as it was when they lived there.

We had put out posters all over town to give away furniture, utensils and clothes. I had kept only the most precious things, or those linked to specific memories. The attic was still full of junk I hadn't yet found the courage to go through.

I looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table, then stared at the wooden shelf above the fireplace. Once it had been full of photographs. My favourite was a stolen shot, our wedding day, when we weren't posing. Davide had taken my face in his hands to kiss me and I had jokingly stuck my tongue out at him.

I heard the window glass vibrate from the noise of a motorcycle. I jumped up and peered through the curtains. Diego had come home.

I decided to go up into the attic, maybe it was time to face the skeletons of the past.

I pulled the metal ladder down from the wooden trapdoor in the bathroom ceiling and climbed up. I pulled at the curtain that covered the only window of the large room and threw it open, letting in the light and refreshing the environment.

Dust was everywhere and cobwebs covered every corner of the ceiling. There was an old brown velvet chair on the right, some dusty picture frames and five cartons sealed with tape. A porcelain doll next to a rickety chest was watching me. I dragged the chest to the window where there was more light, but a padlock prevented me from opening it. I tried forcing the padlock and, weathered by time, it broke at the first try.

I sat cross legged on the floor and opened the trunk.

I found many things I had forgotten about. Several photographs and yellowed letters were scattered on the bottom, there were balls of coloured wool, some white nightgowns and scraps of cloth. I picked some photos up and began to look at them carefully.

The first one portrayed my grandparents during one of their trips to Kenya, happy and smiling in a jeep on safari. In another, there was one of me as a baby in my mother's arms; my sister's first day of school and one of our Christmas dinners, many years ago.

A picture slipped from my hands, I picked it up and winced. My hand trembled, and a cold shiver came over me, leaving me breathless and weak. I wiped my eyes, trying to stop myself from crying, but in vain. My vision blurred and I began to sob.

For a long time I tried to hide behind a shield, but to no avail. Two years had passed, but the pain was still as strong inside me.

I regained some self-control. I turned the photo round in my hands and gave it another look. It had been taken in my grandfather's garden while we were picking salad. My grandmother had taken us by surprise and our expressions were spontaneous. The white ribbed vest emphasized my round belly. I was five months pregnant.

I closed the window and decided to go downstairs, with the photograph hidden in the pocket of my trousers. I threw myself on my bed, punching the pillows and stifling a cry of despair.

Hearing the noise, Bubu came into the room and tried to get my attention. He knew he wasn't allowed on the bed.

I lowered an arm patting the air in search of him. “Get up, please,” I said, sobbing.

Bubu didn't need to be told twice and quickly snuggled in the crook of my neck. His warm breath blew on my skin. I cried until I ran out of tears.

I hugged him tight, seeking comfort in his presence, and fell asleep exhausted, lulled by his warmth.

*

I woke up with a terrible headache and noticed that Bubu had gone. Maybe he had gone to sleep in his bed downstairs. I had red swollen eyes. Only the ticking of the clock broke the silence in the room. I sat up with my legs close to my chest and turned my head towards the table. I rubbed my temples trying to ease the pain that gave me no respite. The picture was still there, where I had left it before abandoning myself to desperation.

I had ripped up all the ones I had, every memory of her was gone forever. I had thrown out everything we bought for her, every hospital document, from ultrasound scans to those of admission on the most painful day of my life.

My belly had been emptied by me and my little one… But can you scrape away a memory? I thought I had got rid of everything, but I was wrong. My grandmother had kept it with her, so as not to forget that innocent creature that would have taken her name.

Emma.

My husband and I daydreamed about her until late at night, we made plans and imagined her beautiful face. We had fun betting and hoping she would take my features and the blue colour of his eyes. I would have taught her to be positive and to unconditionally love everyone and animals. I would have listened to her at any hour of day or night, I would have told her stories before going to sleep, the ones where you learn that evil can be defeated. And that death is just a bad dream. I would have helped her get up after a fall and with sweetness I would have explained what was right and what was not. But the final choice would always be hers. I would have prepared her favourite cake for breakfast and I would have held her tight when fear would overcome her. I would have looked at her sleeping serenely in her bed and I would have covered her during the bitter cold nights.

In an instant, everything was gone. Deleted.

That night, it was pouring down with rain and I was coming home after a hard day's work. It was a cold evening, a full moon, and the city was silently asleep. No traffic. I was happy, we had found two abandoned horses locked up in a barn in very poor condition and rescued them.

I was humming my favourite song, keeping my eyes on the road. The wipers squeaked on the glass with a high pitched and annoying noise. Davide was always reminding me to replace the brushes. How many times had he reprimanded me, and I had raised my eyes and sighed? He was a caring man, I also loved him for his personality, although admittedly at times he was a bit brusque.

I had already planned the evening with him. I would cook the roast that he liked so much, and afterwards we'd relax on the couch watching a movie. Davide would have laid a hand on my belly to feel our little one kicking, and would have put his other arm around my shoulders.

It was a question of seconds.

The tyres skidded, losing their grip on the asphalt, and I lost control of the car. My car ended up in a water filled ditch and because of the violence of the impact, the airbags exploded. One of them had hit me full on.

I opened my eyes with difficulty and a strangled cry of fear and shock escaped from me. I had to think, but my head would not stop throbbing.

I was able to retrieve my cell phone from my jacket pocket, but there was no signal. Damn. I cried while I quickly dialled the emergency number.