by Lucy Scala
I took everything I needed, I checked that Bubu’s water bowl was full and ran outside. Diego looked at his watch and handed me a helmet. “Never mind for now, we must go. Wear this and hold on to me!” he exclaimed, swiftly starting the bike.
As soon as I climbed onto the saddle, the motorbike sped away, gripping the road.
I wove my fingers round his waist; I could feel his muscles under the leather jacket. A sharp turn to the right forced me to hold on tighter, and I pressed into his back with the front of my body.
“Are you ok back there?” asked Diego.
No, I wasn’t ok. My feet on the ground, that’s what I needed. But I hid my fear and I just whispered, “It’s fantastic!”
We proceeded for about ten kilometres along the main road. The bike sped along the ruined asphalt and gravel darted away at its passage. On the side of the road ahead was a long row of old trees, casting their shadows on some weathered billboards.
Finally the shed came into view. An imposing structure now in ruins and a perfect hiding place for illegal activities. The pitched roof had a large hole on the left side, covered with corrugated sheets, and the door, rusted by time, was wide open. In front of it were two police cars with sirens blaring and a mass of people shouting and waving. It was like being in a movie. I turned and saw other cars whizzing away at high speed. It had to be a big thing.
We stopped next to one of the cars, dismounted hurriedly and made our way towards the entrance of the shed. Within it, the police had rallied the men who hadn’t managed to escape and were checking their documents. The names of members of an underworld network, who were already known to the police, had emerged. A vast central space had been used as a combat field. Two rows of string defined the area and all you could see were overturned chairs, tables in disarray and smashed beer bottles. The smell was unbearable, a mixture of dust, urine and stale sweat. Debris, garbage and dark stains littered the floor. There was broken glass everywhere, shining under the fluorescent ceiling lights.
The policemen began to search the few remaining criminals, confiscating money and knives. We knew from experience that organized dog fights almost always included other illegal activities.
My eyes fell on the combat zone, and I barely held back a retch: dried blood, hair and regurgitated food stained the floor.
I looked for the dogs and began patrolling with my eyes, although my legs were trembling.
“Here, Mia! They’re here!” Diego shouted to be heard in the midst of all the noise.
Three pit bulls lay on the ground dying, and another was probably already dead. I approached cautiously and moved fragments of glass with my feet to be able to kneel down. I put my hand on the silent body to feel the heart beat, I tried to open his eyes to see if there was any sign of life. Nothing. He had died from the wound to his throat. I grabbed a blanket that was on the floor and covered him with it.
I moved on to the other dogs. The condition of the first worried me a lot, he was breathing heavily, and being shaken by tremors in quick succession, his body was marked by deep wounds and he was bleeding profusely. That dog was clinging to his life. His eyes were bright, shining with fear.
“Diego, we must take them away immediately,” I explained. “I’ll call Antonio and Fiamma. We need the van and three cages to transport them to the clinic. At the moment, I can only monitor and disinfect them as best I can,” I said, looking for my cell phone inside my pocket.
My hand was shaking. It had been a long time, but that feeling kept following me, like a dark shadow behind me. I could still hear in my ears the desperate howls of the first dog I had assisted, the low-pitched sound that hung in the air. I was still young and a novice, and I couldn’t look at that dying body. I watched him die in my arms, my hands stained with blood, and a colleague had held me close until my breathing had stabilized. Diego inquired if I needed help and, after I had said no, he went away to work alongside his colleagues.
The second dog stood up and, with a lightning reflex, he turned, snarling and showing teeth. His body presented clear signs of the struggle that had taken place a few hours earlier, in some areas one could glimpse the bare flesh where the bites had ripped open the skin.
The dog yelped once and then a second time. He narrowed his eyes and crawled a few centimetres back, accompanying the movement with a faint whine.
I crouched at a safe distance. “Come on, boy. Come here.”
The dog took a step forward and stopped. He stood staggering on three legs, dragging a front paw, with his eyes fixed on the floor. In some places the wounds were so deep that you could almost glimpse the bone.
A still inflamed scar crossed his neck. His bristly fur stood up along his spine.
“One more step,” I said, approaching with a biscuit.
He lifted his head, licking his muzzle with his tongue, and advanced a few centimetres. Then he sat down, dragging his tail on the floor, raising some shards of glass.
I stayed where I was.
“Good boy,” I whispered with a satisfied air. He used all his strength to straighten his legs and reach me, and at each step, he seemed increasingly uncertain. He wagged his tail for the first time when he reached my palm, and gently took the biscuit.
“You’re really good,” I said, touching him with the tip of my fingers. A tear slid down my cheek. I reached out, calmly putting a rope around his neck and, with a little trick, I turned it into a collar to temporarily hand him over to an agent.
The dog that worried me the most was a young female with a short rough coat, a rusty colour with white spots. Her breathing was barely audible, very weak. She was panting and whining. I tried to dab some wounds and make her feel that my presence was harmless. That I wasn’t like her master.
“Calm down, baby. I want to help you and I promise you you’ll never see this place again. You’ll be safe with me,” I whispered, stroking her cropped ears with my fingertips.
With an incredible effort she lifted her leg and pawed my hand. That gesture expressed the desire to establish contact with me. She understood my words.
I stood there, next to the dogs, without ever losing sight of them. After a few minutes, Antonio and Fiamma arrived, they made their way through the chaos and helped me transport the animals to the clinic.
Before I left, I tried to thank Diego for the collaboration, but I noticed that the bike had gone. He had left without saying goodbye, without a ‘bye’ or a handshake. A truly fantastic start!
I tried to not give the incident any importance and to concentrate instead on the intense night of work ahead of me. Fortunately, the condition of two of the dogs was stable and they got away with a few stitches. I found a place for them in the shelters. We couldn’t put them up for adoption until they were completely healed and re-educated.
The condition of the small one, however, was not re-assuring. She had lost a lot of blood and needed an immediate transfusion. The x-rays also showed a broken front leg. Fiamma helped me operate on her urgently.
An hour later she lay on the operating table, still asleep and weak.
“Now let’s go and see your new room,” I whispered, stroking her. “Don’t panic, we’ll take care of you here,” I added, as I carried her up in one of the boxes I had prepared earlier. The effect of the anaesthetic would last for a few hours. I watched from afar before closing the door and turning off the light.
“Gross!” I cried, returning to my colleagues. “I can’t believe that there are still people like that. I hope they all rot in hell!” I added, throwing the disposable latex gloves away. I was furious, I had to get rid of my anger.
Fiamma hugged me. “I know. I know you very well and you need fresh air,” she said sympathetically. “You and I are going out tonight. Let’s go for a drink together, we still have to celebrate the approval of our project.”
“Where would you like go?”
“To Controvento,” replied Fiamma.
“No, no way,” I cut her short. “It’s too chaotic… I’m
not in the mood. Can you imagine how stressed we’ll get trying to find a parking space in the town centre? Why don’t we go to our usual night club? It’s quiet and we can talk without having to shout.”
Fiamma snorted. “We need a shot of life, my friend. Let’s try to relax as we should for once. We haven’t done it for so long.”
I thought about it for a moment. In the end, I gave in. “You win. But first I have to go home and take Bubu out, and I should also get changed. Shall we say in two hours, in front of Controvento?”
Fiamma replied enthusiastically. “Perfect.”
I drove up to the house continuing to reflect on the meeting of a few hours earlier. Diego was sneaking constantly into my thoughts. It was a really strange feeling and a new one, at least for me. I picked up the leash and opened the door.
Bubu ran outside, stopping to sniff every tree he encountered. He shook with energy and retrieved a small fallen branch, laying it at my feet. He barked, seeking attention and began jumping around me.
I tossed the branch in the direction of Diego’s house, but I hadn’t calculated the force properly and it ended up in the middle of his garden.
A few seconds later a light came on inside. I winced.
“Bubu, come over here,” I pleaded, enunciating the words.
I began to sweat. Adamant, he continued his patrol on the grass. Heck, I hated it when he didn’t obey me. Sometimes he was stubborn and stupid.
“Please, please. Come here. I promise to buy you loads of biscuits tomorrow,” I continued to beg in a thin, shrill voice.
For a second he stopped and looked at me. I’d done it, I’d convinced him. But no. He turned and continued patrolling. I could have sworn I saw a wry smile on his canine face.
“Damn!” I said, trying not to make a noise.
Taking slow steps, I approached Bubu stealthily. The last thing I wanted was to be caught on my neighbour’s property. I grabbed him by the collar. “No biscuits for a month,” I scolded impatiently. “Naughty boy.”
He licked my hand to apologize. “No. You’re not fooling me, sweet little eyes…”
That dog always had the ability to make me feel guilty. I could never be strict with him for more than five minutes and therefore could never discipline him.
From the window I saw a woman with dark hair falling over her shoulders. “Shhh, Bubu. We mustn’t let anyone hear us,” I reminded him, as if he really could understand me.
But as I tried to go back, Diego saw me and did nothing to hide his irritation. His features hardened, our unexpected visit was not welcome. With a flick, he shut the curtains and disappeared from my view. I must have annoyed him.
Bubu didn’t understand the situation and wagged his tail happily. I patted him and smiled to re-assure him. Then I walked away, backing down the driveway, leaving his eyes and the memory of the woman who was with him behind me.
I got to Controvento with ten minutes to spare. Against all the odds, I was also able to find a parking space, blocking the whole street while waiting for an old lady to complete complex manoeuvres to vacate it. It had been a while since I had visited my Turin by night, when it was lit by the moon and hundreds of stars. The first revellers were about to walk into the various bars, and others were waiting for the arrival of their friends. I looked up at the sky and admired the Mole Antonelliana. There was magic in the light breeze blowing up from the South, caressing the breathtaking views of the city streets.
The Controvento was packed as usual and the heat took me by surprise. I made my way through the crowd to get to the bar and find two free stools.
While I waited, I ate some olives remaining from an aperitif.
Fiamma arrived soon after. Strange, punctuality had never been her forte. She waved in my direction to attract my attention. Fiamma had cherry red lips and dark eyes, she was wearing black eye makeup, but was the kind of girl who could afford to leave the house in a tracksuit and with her hair uncombed. That evening she was wearing a low-cut top that showed off her generous curves and a pair of trendy, light coloured jeans.
I was wearing black faux leather trousers and a paint red off the shoulder sweater with a half-length sleeves. I had tied back my curly hair, leaving only two locks falling to the sides of my face.
Fiamma leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “Wow, Mia! You’re beautiful tonight!” She shouted to be heard over the din. “Do you want to steal all the local men from me?”
“Don’t exaggerate! I put on the first things I found,” I lied, it had taken rather a long time to choose what to wear.
“What shall we drink?” asked Fiamma.
“An alcoholic drink, something strong,” I suggested.
“So, we want to get drunk tonight,” she said, maliciously.
‘I’ll agree to that.”
“I hope you won’t be driving home,” whispered a male voice to my left.
Fiamma and I turned around in unison. Standing behind me was Alberto, the hospital doctor. He stretched out his hand to introduce himself to Fiamma and smiled.
“Pleased to meet you, Alberto,” he said, and his voice was warm and deep. “It’s a pleasure for me to meet you again. Mia, right? I’m here with a friend, why don’t you join us?” he asked, pointing to a pleasant looking man sitting at a nearby table.
I felt a sudden jerk
“Of course, one never refuses an invitation like that!” said Fiamma, dragging me along.
“You’ll have to explain this one to me,” she whispered in my ear.
I followed him to the table and found a place between him and Fiamma, who had lost no time in focussing on the other prey. She sat down next to him, crossing her legs seductively.
I ordered a second drink to drown the thoughts that crowded my brain.
“I have to admit that I have never met such a fascinating vet before. Well, I’ve met some vets in my life, but you… you must be the joy of every animal!” he exclaimed, bringing his glass to his lips.
“Don’t exaggerate, I would say that no one is happy to see me when I have to perform a castration…” I replied, amused.
Alberto rolled his eyes and added, “In that case, I’ll take back everything I said and thank God for not being one of my mother’s Chihuahuas, Peggy and Zeus,” he said with a weak grin.
I took another sip and placed the empty glass on the table, reflecting on those names. I remembered perfectly who he was referring to. Patty was one of the most diligent customers of the clinic: she even came in for trivial reasons, she was always anxious about her dogs and any reason was enough for a weekly visit. She often brought in chocolates to sweeten the staff, hoping to jump the queue but never succeeding. I had never seen her with a hair out of place or an outfit not studied in detail.
“Of course! You must be Patty’s son. She’s been our client for many years, has a big heart, but you should tell her to worry less about her dogs. The other day she brought them in because she was alarmed by Peggy’s scratching,” I explained, measuring out the words. “It was only a flea. All it needed was a pipette of drops applied to her neck and the flea and the itch had gone.”
Alberto nodded and his mouth relaxed into a smile. “I can’t believe it. Then ‘Happy Paws’ is your veterinary clinic?” He turned serious. “My mother adores you, you don’t know how often she speaks about you. She recommends you to all her friends.” He moved the chair, decreasing the distance between us.
The evening was pleasant, we talked about our lives as if we had always known each other. It had been a long time since I felt so relaxed.
At one point, I noticed he was looking for physical contact. His hand was about to touch mine. I clung to the edge of the chair, the cocktail was damn strong and I felt dizzy. “Excuse me, I must go to freshen up for a moment. I can’t breathe in here,” and walked away from the table, my friends eyes following me.
I tried to go down the corridor leading to the toilet. I had to hurry as I could barely stand. People bumped into me to get by and a shove str
onger than the others made me stagger and almost fall. Two unknown hands grabbed me and held my waist. Then I became aware of him. Those hands. Diego’s hands. His firm grip didn’t slacken. I felt his hands press on my flesh and slide down my sweater to support me.
We were terribly close. Too close. His perfume intoxicated my sense of smell and the warmth he emanated burned my body. Our mouths were but a few centimetres apart and a tiny leap would have been enough to be able to enjoy the taste. My head was spinning and my legs barely supported me.
“Mia?” he exclaimed, surprised to see me.
I blushed slightly and, while I was about to thank him, a woman touched his shoulder.
“There you are, Diego. Where have you been?” she asked, never taking her eyes off me. Intense green eyes, sharpened by mascara, staring at me seriously. Her smile was fake and barely hid the antipathy she felt towards me. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, with perfect skin and a flawless figure.
Diego removed his hand from my side, making sure he wasn’t noticed. “I was going to go down and order another drink. This is Mia, my neighbour,” he said vaguely.
I watched her hair and the profile confirmed my suspicions. She was the girl I had seen at the window.
She gathered her long curls and let them fall on her right shoulder, continuing to pretend she was interested. “Who? Ah, your neighbour. Excuse me, but I have to steal Diego. We have things to discuss,” she said, after a momentary pause.
Did I hear right?
“Sure, no problem. See y—” My words hung in the air. Diego walked away with that woman, mingling and disappearing into the crowd. What an ugly oaf.
Quickly, I slipped into the bathroom and grasped the edge of the sink. Flustered, I stared at the mirror, and I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. Her eyes showed anger and humiliation.
I turned the tap on and let the cool water flow slowly over my wrists, and with wet hands I touched the sides of my neck. The sound of a door opening startled me. Nothing alarming. Just two girls, giggling, as they went towards the mirrors to put on some lipstick.
I decided to return to the lower level of the bar. Moreover, I couldn’t leave Fiamma with two strangers.