- Emmanuel, there's no point in trying to deny the evidence: you should have been more careful.
- Michael, I don't need you to tell me this: I've been telling myself this since yesterday. I should have been more careful, though I still don't understand how, damn it. Actually, I think I'm just really unlucky: I was extremely careful, I didn't lose sight of Martino for even a second. When he got hurt, he was walking next to me and I was holding his hand.
- Darling, my mother intervenes sweetly, the fact is that you shouldn’t have made him take off his shoes.
- Yes Mom, you're right, I shouldn't have made him walk barefoot.
- Yeah, right - my brother confirms ironically, with the tone of someone who says "poor fool, he can't understand the obvious."
- But then, Emmanuel, my father adds, you can't take such liberties with someone else's son. How did you get the idea to take him for a walk as if he were your own son? I really don't understand you.
I am at the height of exasperation.
- Dad, Michael isn't the child's father either, but you've never had any complaints about him taking him wherever he wants.
- What, are you jealous of Michael because Antonia asked him to be her godfather?
- Dad…
- Calm down, brother, Michael interrupts me, appropriately changing the subject. I've never taken Martino out without Antonia. At most, I'll take him here, to the villa, where Mom and Teresa never let him out of their sight. But I've never dreamed of taking him out alone to dangerous places.
- Dangerous!, I blurt out. The Orco Creek is dangerous on a summer's day? I spent half my adolescence there!
- Apparently it's dangerous, since the little one got hurt.
I remain silent, nursing my anger and bitterness. I don't feel justified even as a father, which I am, but what I'm undergoing is a Kafkaesque trial in which I'm a nobody who, for who knows what reason, has taken the liberty of carrying someone else's child around, and this makes my blood boil. I'm about to blurt out, "Fuck you, assholes, haven't you realized yet that he's my son?"
I'm holding myself back just in time, and only because I should explain a few things to my parents about my relationship with my brother's ex-wife. Sometimes I think it would be better to do so, even at the risk of sparking outrage and scandal: it would be the only way to clarify the situation. But right now, I'm sorry to admit, I don't care enough: I don't see why I should go to all this trouble to clarify things with people who, deep down, have no desire to understand me. Better not to care, and let them think what they want.
Teresa, who is serving coffee, allows herself to intervene with a smile, seeing me in difficulty.
- Manuelito thinks they were all like him - she says good-naturedly, to lighten the mood.
- You're absolutely right, Teresa, my mother confirms. As a child, he used to jump like a goat from rock to rock in the streams and never got hurt. But Antonia's baby is more fragile than you, darling: you can see it...
- True, - I confirm, - I reasoned with the head of someone who never got hurt as a child, but evidently not everyone is like me.
- How did Antonia take it?, my father asks. I don't have time to answer: Michael beats me to it.
- How do you think she took it, Dad? Very badly. She was very angry, especially since she's against vaccinations at too early an age; but in this case, Emmanuel did the right thing by giving him the tetanus shot.
- Of course, there was no alternative. How's the baby now?
- So-so. He can't put his foot down and his leg is a little swollen. But he has a strong character and is coping well, at least psychologically: I managed to get him to play a bit with his Sapientino, and he was in good spirits.
- I imagine, my mother says timidly, that she won’t want to see Emmanuel anymore, after what happened.
- Not really, my brother replies. He said 'bad Unkl" several times, but then, while we were playing, he turned to look and asked where 'Unk Manu' was, who in the meantime had left, slamming the door.
- And I don't think I'll see him again for a while, 'Unk Manu', I reply sarcastically. I'm not even thinking about setting foot in that house again, after the way Antonia treated me.
- Emmanuel, try to understand: it was an absolutely inevitable emotional reaction given the circumstances, but then she apologized to you.
- I don't know what to do with her apologies, especially when you suggested them. Do you think I didn't notice?
I didn't mean to be so arrogant, but I'm on edge and I'm fed up with this trial. I can't wait to leave.
- Darling, you'll see that when the child gets better everything will be back to normal: the incident will be forgotten.
I look at my mother coldly.
- You see, Mom, I'm the one who doesn't forget. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off: I have a couple of appointments with some clients at the nursery this afternoon.
- Aren't you staying for lunch with us?
- No, thank you.
- It's still early, it's only ten o'clock.
- I'm in a hurry, Mom: I have to go to the hairdresser to get my hair extensions done.
- Your… extensions?... You're kidding, right?
- Of course, Mom.
- Well, if this is a joke, why don't you stay and eat with us?
- Mom, I have things to do: I have to work if I want to pay back the loan.
I give a dramatic bow to the assembly and turn on my heels.
...
- The slightly longer kabélu suits you, Prins.
- Thanks, May.
- Did Guido ask you?
- No, Carlos, it was my initiative.
- Sure?
- Absolutely.
- Anyway, Prince, you should have been more careful: someone can get seriously hurt in a creek.
- Oh fuck!, I blurt out, exasperated. You too, Carlos?
- Irmùn..., Mayra begins, seeing the storm gathering on my face.
- No May, what's right is right: you can't always agree with him even when he's wrong.
- Okay Carlos, I get it: bye, guys.
I noisily push the wooden chair aside and stand up.
- Oh no, Prinsy! Wait, have a slice of cake...
- Thanks May, no.
Bella, annoyed by all the commotion, starts barking.
- Shut up, Bella!, I exclaim. Bella yelps and falls silent.
Mayra suddenly loses her patience.
- That's enough for both of you now, okay?! Listen to me, irmùn: Prinsy did his best, and it's not his fault if he made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Don't you ever make any?
Then he turns to me sweetly:
- And you, Manu, when you do things like this, maybe call me, I'll gladly partner you: four eyes can see better than two. I'll give you a hand looking at the minìnu.
I smile at her, but reply:
- Thanks, May: you're basically telling me that I can't take care of my son alone.
- Oh no, don't think it, Manu... I would never dare!
- Eh, but that's exactly what you said.
- Also because that's what happened, Prince, Carlos concludes without animosity, with the tone of a simple statement.
I throw my denim jacket over my shoulder.
- All right, guys, I understand. Thanks for everything.
- But Prinsy...
- I'm tired, May, it's been a really hard day. I'm going home to sleep.
- Don't you want to stay here?
- No thanks, not tonight. Come on, Bella.
I take a few steps towards the exit, then turn around at the threshold.
- Oh, by the way: I won't see you tomorrow, I have a very important appointment in Milan.
- With Guido? - Carlos asks me.
I smile.
- It’s my business, I reply, and leave.
I close the door behind me and hear them arguing heatedly: Mayra is scolding her brother. I pretend not to hear and get into my SUV.
As I drive to my little house in Baldissero, I feel a sharp sense of loneliness and immense relief at having gotten everyone out of my hair, with the exception of Mayra, who, however, was irritating this evening with her charitable offers of help. Tears of anger and disappointment well up in my eyes at the thought that I had truly done my best with Martino: evidently my best is far below par. A thought crosses my mind: it would have been better, much better, if I hadn't brought him into the world. This thought is so horrible that it paralyzes something inside me. I must be crazy. Martino is a special child; I don't know how I could harbor regrets like that: even if I were never worthy of the role of a father, it would still have been important to give him the chance to live, live as he pleases, with anyone else. And if he doesn't like me, so be it. I wouldn't like having a gay, clumsy father who endangers me instead of protecting me either.
I swallow back my tears and carry on unperturbed. I banish all memories of those last two days and make room for just one thought: tomorrow I'll see Gianni again.
For some time now, I've been having a strange dream: we're walking side by side along a golden country path. Everything around us is the color of gold: even the air is golden. Suddenly, he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me so violently that he almost suffocates me; I'm forced to resist and push him away a little. I say softly, "You're taking my breath away, Gianni."
I don't want to cultivate any hopes or fears: things will go as they will, but right now the only source of sweetness in that desert is he.
He who wanted to see me again at all costs.
He who trampled on his dignity and pride just to stay in touch with me, even though I hung up on him every time.
He who went to great lengths to see this failure who never gets anywhere, this loser who everyone finds fault with.
He who finds this loser wonderful.
Pygmalion loves his statue, he sees her as beautiful, he doesn't notice her flaws, and she inevitably returns his love.
My Pygmalion.
He, the one, the only one.
Gianni.
I don't care about other people's opinions now.