Someone to Love (10 page)

“Uhm, she's dead.”

“Sorry.” Diego looked down, embarrassed. “I'm sorry.”

An image of the past touched my mind: Clara in the kitchen preparing ravioli stuffed with meat on the cutting board, a rectangular wooden block that had been her mother's; the heat coming from the stove on which was placed a pot of water and my grandmother's hand, secretly handing me a raw ravioli.

“Thank you. My grandmother could do magic in the kitchen, she really knew how to create wonderful dishes with the simplest ingredients.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Every day. I miss our chats, our confessions, I miss seeing her walking around the house.” I was aware that missing her would not bring her back. “My grandparents loved me a lot, unlike my parents who consider me a black sheep,” I said with a shrug.

“More than a black sheep, I would dare say an innocent little lamb.” He smiled, resting his elbows on the table.

“Sweet. Not so innocent,” I replied, winking. “And you, how well do you do in the kitchen?” I changed the subject. Diego shook his head. “I'm not an expert but I'm rather good at doing the shopping at the supermarket and cooking fish fingers.”

“Do as you please, but I strongly advise you against those things,” I pointed out.

“Why? They're so good…”

“The problem is just that: they're good because they're filled with preservatives. Then, what happens is that you get a fat belly and you can't run after criminals any more,” I teased him.

“That may well be the case… but even with a few extra pounds I can still carry off my figure. And a lot of women appreciate a man with a belly.”

“Nonsense, a belly is a belly.” I decided to give up and declare defeat.

I laid the table, using the best dinner set I owned.

“Can I give you a hand?” asked Diego.

“Do I look like I'm in trouble?”

“No, I asked to be polite, that's what one usually does.”

“Thanks, but everything's ready,” I said, draining the pasta.

“Please, be my guest,” I said, indicating the empty chair at the table. I filled the dishes and put one in front of him.

“It tastes delicious, congratulations!” Diego exclaimed after having tasted a forkful of pasta with meat sauce. He gave me a curious smile. “I thought you were one of those singles standing perpetually in front of an empty fridge. Eating straight from cans without enthusiasm.”

“Well, it took you a while to figure it out.”

“I was wrong.”

Was he flirting with me? No, maybe he was just trying to be nice.

“A point in your favour,” I ventured to reply.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked hesitantly.

“Whatever you want, but maybe it's better to start from the beginning. Were you born here?”

“Yes, but I always wanted to live somewhere else,” I revealed. “One day I would love to travel the world, take a break from it all and really live. I would also love to visit the places where my grandparents grew up and where they met.” A smile took me by surprise. “My grandmother loved to tell me about her past. I think she did it so as not to forget.”

“And what stops you from dropping everything and going away?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

“A debt with the past,” I said, shaking my head. “But let's not talk about that, let's talk about you,” I suggested, changing the subject.

I let Diego lead the conversation, talking about his childhood, his city and his transfer to Turin.

“Not much to say. My parents are normal people who live off the land they farm. I, however, wanted something different. Always a little rebellious. I always knew that I would choose another path in life. My brother stayed in Gallipoli, he has the passion for farming to carry on the family tradition.”

“I love the rural life. I mean, life in the countryside is something magical. And also, the families of the South have always fascinated me, they have a natural enthusiasm for traditions, they are so united… And I assure you I do mean it.”

Diego nodded. “I'm lucky, my parents gave me everything, even if I have disappointed my father. He wanted me by his side to learn his craft.”

“I'm sure he must still be proud of you.”

“You're really nice tonight, kitten! Are all these compliments due to the wine?”

“Probably, we've already finished a bottle of red.”

“Then I was right to come by, maybe I'll find out something interesting about you. Something you don't want to tell me,” he said, with a wink.

“Oh, I see. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you'll not discover any more than I wish to reveal,” I said, pouring some more red wine into the glasses.

“I never said I was disappointed.” Diego's voice choked.

“I don't think your girlfriend will be happy to know these things,” I said to deflect the conversation.

Diego grinned. “I've already told you. There is no girlfriend on the horizon,” he answered quickly. “The one I had, I broke up with. I needed my space, you know what I mean.”

“Not really, but I'm not going to discuss that because I'll risk damaging your male pride. Can I ask you a question?”

“Whatever you want, but it doesn't mean that I'll answer everything. If I answered some of your queries then we would start all over again, and you won't be satisfied until you know everything about me.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and watched me.

I burst into a laugh. “You're incredible, you come here to apologize and try to do the same thing you did at the clinic again?” I gave him a hard stare.

“I get the impression that you would be pleasant company.”

“Do you think you're funny? It wouldn't be the beginning of a nice collaboration if I went to bed with you,” I said.

“There's no need to make me feel guilty,” he added.

“It's not part of your nature.”

“You're too hard, how long has it been since you last had sex?”

“And since when have you had that broomstick up your…? Don't worry, honey. No one will ever beat your half-day record,” I replied, ruthless.

“I can do better, it depends on my work schedule.”

“I see, so I'm only a challenge for you?” Diego stiffened at the tone of my voice. “Of course not!”

“No?”

“No,” he repeated firmly. “Seriously, Mia. I like you, I can't deny it. You're different from the others and it's disorientated me. I don't know how to explain it to you…” I tried to maintain a stern expression, masking a weak smile. Without wanting to, I even let out a slight sigh. “Different in what way?” I challenged him.

“I've never been good with words. You mystify me, there… With the others this doesn't happen to me.” Diego bent his head slightly to the side.

“Are you making a fool of me? Listen to me, you can't come and tell me I'm different and then treat me exactly like all the others.”

“See, I'm right? My presence makes you uncomfortable just because you're obliged to confront a man. I can read it in your face, you're just fighting against yourself.”

I mumbled something, shocked.

“What's up?”

“It's late, I think it's better if you leave.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I'm telling you myself.” I smiled, satisfied.

“Are we arguing?”

Diego stared at me for a few seconds and, seeing no afterthought on my behalf, he stood up.

I started to open the front door, but he stopped me. His eyes were staring into mine. “Please, come on, don't be like that.”

“What do you want, Diego? We're good. You wanted to apologize, and you did. I thank you for the flowers and for the company, but that's it.”

“I don't understand why you always have to be so controlled,” he insisted, stubbornly.

I glanced around nervously.

“I don't want to continue this conversation. You're not the type of man I plan to date, or get to know better. Neither today, nor ever. However, if you want, we can be friends. It might be a good compromise for our jobs,” I said, trying to convey a serious tone.

“I'm sorry, I thought that…”

“Ok, it doesn't matter,” I interrupted.

“All clear. Good night,” and he slammed the door, hard. It was evidently a habit of his.

A few seconds later I heard shouting outside. “I forgot my jacket.”

“Fresh air will help you think better.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

*

I was about to go to bed when I noticed the display of my phone blinking.

I grabbed the phone, slipped under the sheets, covering my head and curled up on one side as I did as a child, whenever someone knocked on the door and I wanted to hide away from the light.

I touched the screen. Wow, it was Alberto, just as I had hoped.

I stared at that message for a long time, convinced that it was the beginning of something. What was most enjoyable; knowing that I had a knight ready to court me or getting back that carefree feeling that I hadn't felt for so long? Less than two minutes later, he sent me another text. I decided that the wait could end and began tapping on the screen to reply.

His answer was not long in coming.

Alberto was a charming man, poised and with a responsible job. He had all the right attributes, he could give me the security I needed. And I was looking for stability, and I wanted to fall in love again.

I tried to follow Fiamma's advice and go back to trusting the male gender.

At that moment, however, the memory of Diego and his expression resurfaced in my mind. He seemed sincere and sorry. But he was just a distraction that had nothing to do with my life.

I lay still, cradled by the silence of my house, and closed my eyes.

Soon, I fell asleep.

*

The afternoon turned out to be more tedious and time consuming than I had expected. I had too many things on my mind and my concentration was poor.

I left all the more challenging tasks to my colleagues and devoted myself to the dogs and cats seeking adoption.

Our clinic, as well as rescuing mistreated animals, provided all the necessary treatment for them and took care of the adoptions. We could count on a group of volunteers who came in to help every day. They fed the animals, cleaned their cages and took them for walks outdoors. They were excellent and very conscientious.

“Good morning, Mia.” A shrill female voice demanded my attention.

I turned round. It was Alberto's mother. I feigned enthusiasm. “Good morning. Everything all right?” I asked.

“Of course, can't you see I'm in great shape?” she exclaimed, pointing to her body.

I nodded slightly, although to be honest, she looked much thinner than the last time I saw her, almost wasted. “What do I owe your visit to? Are the dogs doing well?”

“Yes dear. They are fine, although a check up wouldn't hurt. Anyway, today I'm here for other reasons,” she said, winking.

I looked at her, confused. “Which are?”

“What do you mean ‘which are'? My son, Alberto!” she said with a smile. “He told me so much about you and the dinner with your family. What fantastic news, I always had a thing for you!” she exclaimed excitedly.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I hope he didn't tell you everything… Anyway, I just met Alberto, and at the moment, it seems that you brought him up very well.” I concluded politely. The truth was simple: I had only just started going out with Alberto and I didn't want to mislead his mother.

“I don't want to sound nosy. Alberto is a good guy and I would love to see him with a woman like you,” she pointed out. “Now I have to run, my husband is waiting for me in the car. I'll come round next week, see you soon,” she waved as she went, leaving an invisible trail of her sweet-smelling, almost sickening perfume in the air.

That visit had disconcerted me. I couldn't stand another intrusive mother, one was quite enough.

I put the files on my desk in order and filed the adoption forms: last week we were able to find a family for two dogs we had kept in the clinic for a long time. Their moment had arrived, although saying ‘goodbye' to them was painful every time, for each animal that found a home, another would be coming in.

“Mia, I bring you good news!” exclaimed Fiamma, beaming, as she entered the office. She was waving x-rays and printed sheets in the air.

“Tell me it's what I think it is,” I said hopefully.

She nodded and sat down next to me. “Look, the blood tests,” she announced. “The fracture and the wounds are on the mend and today, for the first time, Antonio was able to take her for a walk in the garden,” she continued, with a happy sigh. “She put up no resistance and did her business outdoors. Isn't that fantastic?” she smiled.

I felt much better. The little dog I had found abandoned in a shed was recovering very quickly. I knew she was strong and that she would make it.

I looked at the papers and the results of the blood tests were truly perfect. I smiled smugly. “Soon we will find her a home, I'm sure. She's a beautiful dog, young and full of energy. Of course, we must assess any psychological damage, but I want to be confident. I don't think she's an aggressive dog, but—”

Antonio burst into the room, surprising us. “Girls, coffee?”

“Damn you, Antonio! Are you crazy? You'll give us a heart attack!” exclaimed Fiamma jumping up from her chair. “At least let us know you've arrived.”

“You're so sour!” said Antonio, putting two cups of steaming coffee on the desk.

“It's you, you're stupid,” challenged my friend, pointing her finger at him.