Someone to Love (5 page)

“What happened to you?” she asked, getting up from her chair once I was back at the table.

I shook my head and calmed down. “Nothing, it's just too hot in here.” I waved my hand before my face.

Alberto gently moved the chair for me.

“Thank you,” I whispered. With a quick gesture I moved the still full glass from my sight. Just the smell gave me a slight nausea.

“You're right, the air is stifling. Sure you're okay? You're so pale…” asked Alberto worriedly, loosening his tie.

His words echoed in my head. I leaned my elbows on the table and brought my hands to my temples to ease the discomfort.

Alberto stared at me. “Would you rather I drive you home? Or would you rather go for a walk outside?” he asked thoughtfully, indicating the exit.

“Thank you. My car is nearby.”

“I insist, I don't feel comfortable. At least give me the chance to follow you home,” he repeated firmly.

I shrugged. Honestly, being escorted home was the last thing I wanted, but I agreed. Maybe it was the alcohol's fault, but it made me happy. Firstly though, I had to make sure I left Fiamma in good hands.

I was about to open my mouth when Fiamma touched my arm. “Don't worry about me, go home. I won't be alone tonight for sure,” she began, nodding towards the man behind her.

I nodded and walked away from the club with Alberto.

It was already very late and the temperature had lowered significantly. The wind blew bleakly in Piazza Vittorio and I hugged myself inside my cotton jacket.

Alberto noticed that I was shivering and quickened his pace. “Come on, let's go. Please drive slowly and carefully. I'll be right behind you.”

“I don't need a bodyguard,” I said ironically.

“I insist, I don't want to be worried. It's part of my job to care for others.”

I sighed and imitated a faint smile.

I drove obsessively checking the rear-view mirror display. Alberto kept his eyes glued on the car. On second thoughts, I was sorry to have snubbed him like that.

All evening he had proved polite and considerate. Well, perhaps a bit pushy, but always kind.

I arrived with no problem in front of my house, I entered the driveway and parked in reverse. Alberto switched off his engine, locked the car and joined me at the door.

We were both embarrassed like two teenagers on a first date. I felt good around him.

“Thank you, you've been very kind. But it's late and tomorrow I have a long day,” I explained. “See you in hospital,” I concluded, looking for the house keys in my bag.

“Don't thank me. Meeting you again won't be so difficult. I'll just need to accompany my mother on her next visit, or bump into you in a hospital corridor.”

I laughed at the thought. “No offence, but I prefer the hospital idea.”

Alberto got closer and moved a lock of hair behind my ear. “Have a good night,” he said, blushing. His eyes were direct and sincere.

“Thanks again, for everything,” and I planted an innocent kiss on his cheek.

Alberto returned it, brushing my cheek, then moved away. I waved once again before entering the house.

As soon as I touched the bed I collapsed into a deep sleep leaving behind every memory of the evening and even Diego and Alberto faded from my thoughts.

I slid my fingers over the calendar. It was the last Friday of the month and that meant only one thing: family dinner. To remind me of the event, I marked the date square with a large black X. A few nights before, the TV had broadcast an episode of
You've Got Mail
in which some parents were re-united with children they hadn't seen for years. I witnessed a heartbreaking scene, full of crying with lots of hugs and kisses. That's the difference. I would have asked Maria, the presenter, to close the envelope.

For the occasion, I wore an elegant black dress, hair gathered into a bun and the same pearl earrings that I had worn on the day of my graduation. I took care of every detail, to avoid embarrassing situations.

Last time I turned up wearing my work uniform because at the last minute there had been an emergency and I hadn't had time to go home and change. My mother didn't try to hide her disappointment with my clothes, saying they weren't fit for a family dinner. As her words echoed in my head, I had noticed that a piece of lettuce had stuck in her upper teeth. The more I watched her talk, the more that insignificant green dot bothered me and showed that even she was not free of imperfections, though she hid them well.

I let the words come out naturally, “Mrs know-it-all
,
get that piece of lettuce off your teeth.” The fragile control she exerted on herself collapsed. Beatrice sank her nails into her palms and bit her tongue. My presence was no longer welcome. Just as well.

I arrived at my parents home a little early, I parked the car and smoothed my dress before ringing the bell. A small camera framed me. The window of the dining room was well lit and, behind the hand-embroidered curtains, I could see the silhouette of my mother walking around the table ensuring everything was in place. She was a woman obsessed with perfection and showing off her economic superiority. Her image was important to her.

A shrill voice from inside begged someone to open the door. I waited. The door opened and the warmth enveloped me in an encouraging embrace.

I entered and looked at the grandfather clock with the walnut case and gilt weights inside it. When I was a child, I thought it was magical and that, with some strange formula, I would be able to travel in time.

My parents let me be, not hampering the imagination of an indomitable little girl who craved attention. Crossing that threshold re-opened all the old wounds within me. I never appreciated that house as I should have, because it there was nothing about it that was familiar to me and it didn't reflect my way of life.

I had always felt like an outsider. My father, a business executive, worked to enrich and satisfy my mother's vices. That house was one of the most luxurious villas in the hills of Turin, and it was much more than a whim due to the love he had for his wife.

“Hello, Nancy. How are you?”I asked the housekeeper.

She was wearing a white apron tied behind her back, which covered a short-sleeved dress, adorned with jet-black buttons. I hardly recognized her nowadays. Her face had aged, her thick curls appeared opaque, and wrinkles had appeared at the corners of her eyes, clear signs of fading beauty.

“Miss Mia, let me hug you,” she said, embracing me with plump arms and holding me tight for a few seconds.

“What lovely perfume! I guess Mum is agitated about the evening going well, as usual,” I lowered my voice.

Nancy sighed and looked up at the sky. “Nothing new. Well, give me your jacket and bag, I'll put them in the cloakroom,” she said politely.

A timer rang. “Dinner,” she exclaimed in alarm. “I'm sorry, but I have to run or the signora will start to worry.” She walked rapidly towards the kitchen. I crossed the threshold of the dining room and hit the wall with my knuckles to announce my presence. I examined the scene of cozy intimacy before me. I could begin to play the role of the gracious daughter, even though it was evident that a part of me was not amused.

“Darling, where have you been? We waited for you to get started!” snarled my mother, giving me two imaginary pecks on the cheek. I checked my watch: I was fifteen minutes early.

Thou shalt honour thy father and mother.

Thou shalt honour thy father and mother.

It seemed the perfect commandment, at least for that moment.

My sister hadn't paid much attention to my entrance. She was sitting on the corner couch next to her husband Federico, and giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to show the diamond she was wearing on her ring finger. My father, busy serving drinks, had his back to me.

“Hello, everyone!” I exclaimed, entering the large living room. “Hello, beautiful! You're very smart,” my father complimented me, just turning and winking. Before anything more could be said, a man in a dark suit appeared before me. He adjusted the knot of his striped tie under his chin.

Part of me was incredulous, the other part wanted to burst into hysterical laughter, for what the hell was Alberto doing at my family dinner?

“Come on, Mia, don't stand there like a statue!” said my mother excitedly. “Meet Alberto, the man who helped me during the tennis lesson. He loves animals, just like you,” she concluded with a wink and clapping awkwardly. I noticed a bandage wrapped round her right wrist.

Now it was clear. My mother didn't know anything, but I didn't believe in coincidences.

“Just act naturally,” I told myself.

Alberto approached me with a glass of champagne in hand and the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “Nice to see you again.” There was no nervousness in his voice and I just had to imitate him.

“Alberto…” I murmured, drawing a step nearer. “Are you by any chance stalking me?” it was a joke but my tone was ambiguous, somewhere between serious and mischievous.

‘Well, I could ask you the same question,” he said. I could see a nuance of amusement on his face.

“Mum, what's he doing here? I mean, how do you know him?” I asked, still surprised by the situation.

“And why don't you ever tell your mother anything?” she asked, as astonished as I was. “Like I said before, I hurt my wrist playing tennis and luckily Alberto was there. He really is a gentleman and offered to accompany me to the emergency room… I had to repay his kindness somehow.”

I looked firstly at her and then at Alberto in confusion and then smiled. The situation was rather ridiculous.

“But look what a beautiful couple you make together!” began my mother, coming closer and changing the subject. “What do you think?” She let out a murmur of happiness.

“Alberto is really elegant and, sorry if I dare…” pointed out my sister, justifying herself to her husband, “the problem is yours, Mia, you really don't know what elegance is. That dress is so out! Don't you ever browse through fashion magazines?” she exclaimed, playing with one of her curls.

I looked down to see myself better. Out? But if I only bought it two months ago? “As you know, I work all day,” I tried to defend myself. “I have no time to waste on frivolities like you do,” I said drily.

Lucy muttered something to Federico and walked away towards the dining room, where Nancy had just made her entrance with a tray of appetizers.

“You should learn from your sister, Mia,” advised my mother. “And write down a few tricks.”

I gave her an adoring smile. “I will, mother dear. I will note them down later in my diary to remember them.”

I seemed to have gone back in time ten years, when Lucy's presence always managed to overshadow mine. She was the favourite and everyone always took her side, whatever she did.

Alberto, as a real gentleman, moved the chair to allow me to sit down. The family silver was laid out on the table and a chandelier with three arms lit the room. Jazz music was coming out of the speakers.

I had to try and relax.

To my great surprise, dinner wasn't a complete disaster, even if the whole evening revolved around Lucy's continuous chit-chat, with the inevitable puns about my haircut, too old fashioned in her opinion.

I asked my brother-in-law how his work was going and he lost no opportunity to launch into a monologue. Serious mistake. My impression was that of being the only normal person in the middle of this mass of people vying for attention in the most boring conversations. Wine had become my ally and the only means of survival. Several times I tried to hold back a comment or a word: I wanted to avoid embarrassing situations, there was a guest after all.

Nancy continued to move around the table ensuring everyone had everything they could possibly want. I smiled at her and motioned her not to worry.

“The roast is really delicious. Simply exquisite,” exclaimed Alberto, trying to find a pretext to talk to the others.

A slight blush of satisfaction painted my mother's cheeks as she acknowledged the compliment gracefully and moved on.

“Alberto is a well-known surgeon in town.” After drinking a sip of wine, she went on: “I still don't understand how you two know each other,” she sounded genuinely interested and brushed my hand with hers.

I moved it away, angrily.

“Too kind, Signora Beatrice. I met your daughter at the hospital and I think we will be seeing each other often since the commission has given the go ahead for her proposal,” he said, searching for the most appropriate words. “Isn't that so?” asked Alberto, seriously. I admired the concise answer that revealed a minimal amount of information.

“Just so,” I said, before piercing the meat with my knife. “I don't know the details or the conditions yet, but I'll meet the first children I've been entrusted with for my pet therapy project soon,” I exclaimed, satisfied.

A cough interrupted my trance. Everyone looked at me curiously. Had I missed something?

“Petterapi what…?” my mother asked doubtfully, as if she lived on another planet.

I tried to stop myself and just snorted. “Pet therapy, Mum! It's a work thing, it will only bore you…” I hurried to answer, using a sympathetic tone and pretending that it was nothing special.

Beatrice opened her eyes, ready to reply, but my father looked at me as if to say ‘don't be surprised, she's your mother,' and stood up. “Let's have a toast to Mia and the passion she puts into her work. You must be pleased with yourself because you always find new ideas to help others. Well done, my dear.”

Alberto was already leaping out of his chair and raising his glass. “To Mia, then” he exclaimed, immediately followed by everyone present.

“Cheers.”

It was that moment, during the toast, with the slight tinkling of the crystal that made me uncomfortable because my family never indulged in hearty congratulations like that.