4 - Promises
I stop at the entrance of the facility. Above the main door, a transparent awning stretches out.
My heart starts beating faster.
I ring the bell and turn to face the camera mounted in the upper left corner.
“One moment,” says a woman’s voice through the intercom.
The door buzzes open. A nurse in a white coat greets me with a faint smile. “Good evening, Mr. Ezio.”
“Hi, Monica.”
I show her the envelope and its contents.
I climb the stairs and stop at the landing. The sliding doors open with a hiss, and a current of air brings the smell of alcohol and disinfectant. I follow the white walls, decorated with posters of forests, fields full of yellow flowers, and butterflies.
I glance back at the sound of footsteps—staff shoes echoing down the hallway. To the right, in the smoking room, a woman stares dreamily at the smoke rising from the cigarette between her lips.
I reach Luigi’s room. I take a deep breath, knock, and step inside.
My son is sitting on the bed, eyes lost beyond the window. He turns, sees me, and smiles.
On the wall hangs a poster of his hero, wearing the sky-blue and white striped jersey and black shorts with the Number Ten clearly visible.
“Hey, Dad,” Luigi says, his voice trembling.
“How are you?” I set the envelope on his lap.
Luigi shrugs. “Could be better, I guess.”
“I brought you something.”
I open the bag and pull out the red-and-blue jersey from his favorite team. “I thought you might like it.”
His mouth falls open for a second. “Thanks, Dad.” He grabs the shirt and runs his fingers over the fabric.
“Did you catch the last match? They played really well, didn’t they?”
A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I saw it. Prita was amazing off the bench, and Lupudalu nailed that penalty at the end.”
“It was brilliant.”
Luigi leans back into the pillows, more relaxed now. “Yeah... I miss football.”
“I know, son. It’ll come back into your life. I’ll fix everything.”
His eyes start to glisten. “Maybe so, Dad.”
I take his hand and squeeze it tightly. “I’m sorry.”
He tilts his head and rubs his palms on his jeans. “For what?”
“For... everything,” I stammer. “For not being a good father, for not listening when you needed me, for letting our family fall apart.”
My boy lowers his head. “It wasn’t just your fault. I made mistakes too,” he says, barely above a whisper.
“But I’m your father. It was my job to protect you.”
Luigi swallows. “I know you did your best.”
His words hurt more than any insult would. I don’t deserve his understanding—let alone his forgiveness.
I rock gently on the creaky chair.
Taped to the wall with four pieces of masking tape, a drawing of a smiling sun shines over a soccer field.
Luigi watches me for a moment. “Can I come home with you today?” He pulls back and hides his fists under his arms.
I wish I could say yes, take him away with me. “I can’t. I’m so sorry.” I hug him.
“Why not?” His voice trembles. “I want to be with you. With Marco. And Mom.”
“It’s not that simple, sweetheart. There are things I need to fix first.”
He shakes his head. “But I feel good now—when I’m with you. I promise I’ll do everything you ask.”
“You have to be patient.” I try to stay calm. “You’re safe here, and I... I just can’t. Not yet.”
A tear rolls down his cheek. “All I need is you, Dad. My family. Nothing else.”
“I have to go now.” My stomach twists into a knot. “I promise we’ll see each other soon.”
He grabs my wrist. “Okay,” he whispers.
I gently pry open his hand and move toward the door. “I’ll never leave you again.” I fight back the tears.
He lets his arms fall to his sides. “You’re doing it now.”
“This is for your own good. Don’t forget that.”
“Really? Then I need you to do something for me.”
I straighten my back. “Anything you want. I promise—just ask.”
I hold him tight, press my chin into his neck.
“I want you to accept Miss Emma’s offer,” he says.
“I can’t, I—”
“Why? I want to know.” Luigi steps back from me. “You promised.”
The nurse walks in. “It’s time.”
“I have to go, but I’ll be back soon.”
A sparrow preens its feathers on the windowsill.
“I don’t believe your promises anymore.” He throws the jersey at me. “Take it back.” He turns toward the window.
The little bird takes off and vanishes into the holm oak branches.
“Luigi, please.”
He stands still, one palm pressed against the glass.
“Don’t let me leave like this.”
Monica walks me out. The ward glows with warm light. The doors are open. Boys and girls wander the hall.
Please note: I'm not a native English speaker. If you spot any mistakes or have suggestions, feel free to email me at p.rubiu@tiscali.it