by Bella Donnis
“Or maybe you really are a coward, Gia…Gianna.” She downed the wine, pushed herself out from the chair, threw some money to the table and shuffled in the direction of the lobby.
The concierge was leaning against the counter as Erin approached. “Good evening.”
Erin propped herself up against the desk. “You couldn’t talk for a few minutes could you? Anything to delay going back to my empty room.”
The concierge straightened, raised a trimmed eyebrow and spoke with a hint of amusement. “You know…There’s something about Napoli that makes or breaks relationships. There’s something about Napoli that makes or breaks people.”
“Well, I think it’s broken me.” Her eyes were drawn to the window; at the battered heap he called a car. He’d been right about that. “Do you have any more wisdom you can expel for my benefit?”
He smirked, “If you ask me, it’s better you know now than in say…” he shrugged his shoulders, “…ten years.”
Chapter Seventeen
Vespa
Gianna ran her finger down the day’s diary entry, which didn’t take long. “One fucking client.” Signora Castelli wasn’t due in until late in the afternoon, which would give Gianna most of the day to stew over yesterday and how things were left with Erin. “How am I supposed to run a business with no fucking business?” The damn economy – When would things improve?
At least now she’d finished with Agata. One erratic and unpredictable aspect of her life was now out of it. Agata hadn’t taken it well – Not at all. What should have been a twenty minute phone call had dragged on for nearly two hours as she pleaded with Gianna to change her mind. “It’s that English whore isn’t it?” She had asked, to which Gianna responded in the negative, which had been the truth, not that it was believed.
Gianna hoped Signora Castelli wouldn’t turn out to be another phantom client of Agata’s. “Why did I ever get involved with her?”
Gianna pottered about the surgery, then fixed up another espresso in the kitchen. She sank the thick dark liquid in one, the powerful and bitter taste doing its work. Then she traipsed to the bathroom and studied her reflection, searching for signs of the ever increasing and soul destroying grey. She plucked one out, then another.
“Erin.” She whispered. What a weekend that had been. Gianna would require days, weeks even, to process the events of the last two days. She had no idea what the hell had happened, it all flew by so fast. She remembered pretty much every last detail, in the most vivid of ways; from the sounds of the birds and the smell of Erin’s flesh to the exact specifics of their conversations and Erin’s facial expressions; a mixture of love, happiness, hurt and pain. “Oh, Erin, why did we leave things like we did?” She regretted that and how badly Erin had taken the refusal of her offer. “You’d be much better off without me, Erin, and I will not impose my overweight, fat self on you. I’m cursed and you deserve much better.”
Gianna replayed in her mind, that surreal moment when Erin told her she’d loved her. “Does she still love me?” Did real love ever truly die? “Why would she say she loved me if it wasn’t still so?” But more to the point, why couldn’t Gianna bring herself to say the same? “I will always love you too, Erin.” She held on to the sink and stared deep into her eyes. “But I’m too pathetic to say it to your face.” The old Gia would have been far more likely to let her feelings known. But Gia had died with her family.
What did any of it matter now? Erin was today checking out of her hotel and was probably even now heading north to Tuscany or wherever the breeze took her, along with her fiancé. It was doubtful she’d ever see Erin again.
Vedetta’s voice, urgent and panicking shrilled through the opened door of the surgery. “You can’t go in there.”
A masculine voice followed, trying and failing to sound reassuring. Gianna left the bathroom to find a creature of the night, Vincenzo, pushing his way into the surgery.
“It’s alright, Vedetta. I’ve got this.” Gianna watched as Vedetta hesitated, but closed the surgery door behind the large man, white bandages with heavy flecks of red wrapped tight around his head. Two large eye holes gave way to bloodshot irises, barely a trace of white visible, his eyes seemed to protrude at least an inch from their sockets, like some organ harvester had tried removing them and given up half way through the job.
“Good morning, Dottoressa.” Vincenzo croaked, his voice hoarse as though glass fragments remained within his wind pipe.
“Vincenzo. How may I help you?” She already knew of course, even though the urgency of the situation had largely bypassed her mind due to the events over the weekend.
“How are you today Dottoressa?” He asked, pacing about the surgery.
“I’ve been better.”
He really did look like a character from some bad horror movie, all bandaged up like that, whilst trying at the same time to look respectable in those polished black shoes, white shirt and tie, even if his girth forced the hems to untuck at the front. “You know why I’m here, Dottoressa. Don Sabbatino requires his payment. You owe him five thousand Euros.”
Gianna could, if she’d made a real effort, have secured the money. She had a small sum left from her mother’s inheritance, but her dear mother would turn in her grave if that money were to be used on paying off the Camorra. “That money is for your future.” She’d said, a few days before she died in a hospital bed as Gianna sat by her side.
“Don Sabbatino wishes to see you succeed, Dottoressa. Please tell me you have the money.” He said, taking a step toward her.
“Vincenzo, I don’t have the money. So do what you have to do.” Gianna took a step back toward the wall, hoping the retribution would not be physical upon herself.
Vincenzo sighed and reached around his back, pulling out from his belt what looked like a baseball bat, only shorter. Unlike the iron cosh he’d used three days before, this was made from wood. He’d clearly learned his lesson. He pointed to the sky light above the treatment table, the same light that caused him so much agony. “I must be more careful this time.” He pulled it down on its arm and turned to Gianna. “You should take a step back.” After he was satisfied she’d moved far enough away, he said, “I want you to know that this pains me deeply.” He held an arm over his eyes and looked downwards as he struck the light, the high pitched smash rattling through Gianna. This time the shards landed safely on the floor, with some spreading out over the treatment table. Vincenzo breathed with relief at having achieved the simple yet mindless task unharmed. He then moved on to his other foe, the electrotherapy short wave diathermy, the monitor still smashed from before. He raised the bat and brought it down repeatedly over the equipment. That device alone had cost Gianna almost four thousand Euros.
Gianna backed further into the corner, covering her ears as he moved onto the radial pressure wave unit, all ten thousand Euros of it, demolishing it, followed by the recumbent cycle ergometer before he brought out a knife and slid it down the entire length of the treatment table’s leather exterior, another one thousand Euros. He approached Gianna’s laptop and took several swings at the screen. His baring, more than a little off balance, doubtless from the effects of being nearly blinded.
How had it come to this? All Gianna had ever wanted with her life was to help people. People who’d found themselves most vulnerable, without the proper use of their limbs and now all her most precious possessions were being trashed and all because in her chosen career, she’d decided to forego the money and work instead for something that really mattered. She thought about her brother, father, her friends in the army, those same people who’d inspired her to enter the field of physiotherapy. What would they think if they were around to see this?
Gianna used her hands to cover her face, closing her eyes in an attempt at blocking out the smashes and Vincenzo’s grunts as he put his full force into destroying her precious surgery.
After untold minutes, when the cracking and shattering noises finally abated, Gianna dared look up. Using
a handkerchief, Vincenzo was wiping the sweat from his forehead where the bandages did not cover his flesh. “Don Sabbatino considers your debt paid, Dottoressa.” He panted, stuffing the damp rag in his shirt pocket. “It pains me deeply that it came to this.”
Gianna wobbled over to her chair, at least that had remained untouched. “Are you finished now?” She asked, collapsing into the soft leather.
He nodded sadly. “I hope you’re able to get back on your feet. Don’t let this destroy you.” Vincenzo turned around and stepped toward the door.
Gianna’s chest heaved, her shoulders shook, the tears of hope lost streamed down her cheeks as she covered her face, enveloping herself in darkness – And then – A feminine gasp.
Gianna looked up as Erin entered, seemingly freezing to the spot as Vincenzo stepped by her in the threshold. When Vincenzo disappeared, Erin dashed inside, taking a moment to scan the room before running toward Gianna and pulling her tight into a protective embrace.
Gianna tried to speak, but the words left her mouth as palpitations.
“Hey shush, it’s alright.” Erin said, gently rocking Gianna, her mouth pressing against the top of Erin’s breast. “It’s alright, I’m here, I’m here.”
There was nobody else in the world Gianna needed more than Erin right now, yet at the same time, she hated being seen like this; blubbering like a child with a destroyed livelihood, the mask and pretence fallen. Gianna was supposed to be the strong one of the two and Erin, for all she knew about Gianna, had only ever seen her cry that one time on the punt back in Cambridge many years ago.
After several minutes, Gianna finally managed to speak. “You came back?” The sound came out muffled and for a moment Gianna wondered if Erin had understood.
“I came to say goodbye…I had to.” Erin said with soothing tones. “My flight leaves in a couple of hours…Bloody hell, Gianna, what happened here?”
“The Camorra…I owed them money…Too much money…And I didn’t have it.” The words sounded more coherent now.
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed help? I would have gladly helped you out. Heck, I would have sold my soul to help you.”
Gianna closed her eyes and sank in to her. Erin was leaving and this would be their farewell. She inhaled Erin, all natural Erin in her essence. Gianna sobbed, “I just couldn’t tell you.” Was it because she had too much pride or that she had become too much of a coward? Conversely, it was probably a lot of both. “I don’t deserve your help and I don’t deserve you.” Cursed – That’s what Gianna was.
Erin brought her to arms’ length. “I used to think the exact same thing, but you helped me anyway. You’ve helped me more than anyone else in the world.”
Why did she persist? Gianna shot to her feet, startling Erin. All along, there had been one thing that had bothered Gianna. “Why did you really come here Erin? Was it to boast about how well you’re doing now? Or was it to show off your lovely fiancé? Perhaps you came to make me feel even guiltier for walking out on you.” Gianna saw Erin step back, her eyes widen; she hated doing it to her.
“No, of course not, none of those things.” Erin said covering her belly.
“Then why are you here? You told me you were merely passing through.” Again, Gianna saw the hurt over her friend’s face, but took no pleasure in it.
Erin threw down her hands and stamped her foot. “Damn it, you bloody stubborn Italian, I came because you were the most important person I ever knew, because I missed you. I came because I needed to know you were alright but…” Erin kicked a shard of plastic that lay on the floor from Vincenzo’s handy work, “…but most of all, Gianna, I came to find you because that bloody poem fluttered back into existence.”
Gianna laughed and stepped back herself, her eyes narrowing. “What? What are you talking about…A poem?”
Erin flushed the same colour as her hair, “never mind, it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything about that.”
Gianna moved forward, her arms crossed. “Show me.”
“Ooh, no way! Not you, definitely not you.”
“I think that if you wrote a poem for me then you should at least show me it.”
“It wasn’t for you, it was just about you.” Erin said, her defiant words not matching her softening demeanour. And she made no attempt at running or shredding the poem before Gianna’s eyes - Probably a mistake.
“Blah, blah, blah, Erin, I want to see it.” And she did too. She really, really did.
Erin hesitated, but then delved into her bag and brought out an envelope. “I don’t suppose it makes any difference now anyway.” What did she mean by that? “I should have burned it when it dropped out of that bloody book, or even better, straight after writing the bloody thing.” Erin gazed at Gianna, eyes full of pain; for an instant it looked as though she was trying to burn Gianna’s image into her mind – Oh shit – This was it. Erin gently placed the envelope on the table and whispered. “Maybe you’ll burn it for me?” Before she turned away, Gianna thought she saw a single tear fall from her eye.
“Erin?” Gianna froze. Now the moment had arrived, she didn’t want it, she wanted anything but for Erin to walk out of her life when she’d just found her again. But what could she do? Her English rose was better without her – The state of her surgery was evidence to that.
Erin took a step toward the exit and stopped. “And just for your information…” she said without looking back, “…Ben and I split.” Her shoulders lifted an inch before falling again. “You could have everything, if only you had the courage to take it.” Erin turned her head and looked for the final time at Gianna. “Goodbye Gia, wherever you are.”
And then she was gone, floating away with the same breeze on which she arrived.
Gianna found herself frozen to the spot, unable to move her feet, unable to breathe, unable to think. The envelope – It lay there, next to her. Gianna reached for it, her arm tingling and numb. Prising apart the glue, she pulled out the worn sheet of paper, words smudged with teardrops ten years past. Gianna braced herself, breathed and read the poem.
You entered my life when I needed a friend,
Bright eyes meeting mine from through the crowd.
I didn’t know then you would change my whole life,
In only a year we had, more anyone else allowed.
You entered my life and showed me new ways,
My perfect companion, you breathed me new life.
The things we did, the memories we made,
Just so much promise and future so bright.
You entered my life when I needed you most,
Over my own heart, the power you held.
But like all good things, they must one day come end,
Then one day you left me, you felt compelled.
You entered my life and tore out my soul,
So now I write this as a final farewell.
Will I ever love again, bright eyes through the crowd,
Will I ever be whole, can I break your spell.
-
The poem fluttered to the floor as Gianna kicked a large piece of her former traction unit against the wall.
A shadow moved across the room, blocking out the natural light from outside; Gianna found herself fixed to the spot, the only thing that moved were the tears that streamed down her face.
A sharp screech, a dull thud, a long scrape, an even louder smash.
Gianna’s skin went cold.
Whatever that was, had been no ordinary collision.
Heart pounding through her mouth and finally finding the ability to move, Gianna ran. She didn’t know how, but she already knew – This was bad, she sensed it.
Gianna threw open the door to the outside. A small crowd was gathered around the curb as more drivers exited from vehicles, hands covering mouths. Gianna looked around frantically for Erin. Where was she?
Further down the street, against the wall, a feminine figure lay sprawled, trapped beneath a scooter, an arm flapping about her face as though in
a daze.
Gianna gasped – She recognised the Vespa – It was Agata.
She pushed through the crowd and everything became a blur. Erin lay crumpled on the road, blood masking her face, head nestled on a man’s lap, foot facing the wrong way – Not breathing.
Chapter Eighteen
Between
“Erin, let’s have a word.” Mrs Reed whispered, standing a few short paces from Erin as she sat on the floor in a gap, away from most of the other kids.
Erin stood and followed her teacher to a quiet corner of the classroom, taking a seat.
“Erin, we need to have a little chat about Nancy, ok?” She said, even more soothing than normal.
Erin nodded, not quite knowing what to think. Where was Nancy today anyway?
Mrs Reed leaned closer and smiled, but her eyes said otherwise. “Erin, I want you to know that Nancy is not coming back to school.”
“What?” A scary grey cloud built up in Erin’s periphery vision, blocking out everything other than herself and Mrs Reed - What was that? “Where is she?” Erin sniffed.
“Erin, sometimes, people need to move due to work or family reasons. Nancy’s dad had to move the family to New Zealand. Have you heard of New Zealand, Erin?”
“No.” Erin sobbed. What would she do without Nancy?
“Well, Nancy would like you to know that she’s alright, she’s happy and that you should try and make more of an effort with some of the other kids from now on.” Mrs Reed tilted her head. “Do you think you could do that, Erin? It would make Nancy very happy.”
“No.” Erin wailed, collapsing into the table and shielding her face from the world. “I want Nancy.”
The bell chimed for the end of session and Erin hung back as the classroom emptied. Grabbing her bag, she looked to the floor as she trudged past the teacher and pulled the door open, exiting the classroom. She headed in the direction of the computer labs as there were usually less kids hanging around there at lunchtime.