a lead

Vincenzo Moreno

Her room was a brown monochrome. Fairly furnished and with large panel windows. I couldn't stop myself from wondering if every therapist's office was this way. Depressing.

Dr. Yolanda edged close and handed me a cup of coffee.

"I'm going to be honest with you," she said while lowering to her seat. "I'm glad you called."

Her gaze spoke volumes. She expected me to lay my worries bare—my greatest pet peeve. However I had no choice. I wanted none of these anymore: torn away from Rina, waking up miserable, and being in exile.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I stroked my thumb over the handle of the cup, then sent the hot beverage sliding down my throat.

"How much time do I have?" I asked.

"Forty five minutes, but I'm willing to make it an hour."

Why? Because I'd make an interesting study?

My focus laid on the coffee as I mentally prepped myself to talk.

"I want all this to end. I just want to wake up and see this as part of the past." A short pause followed. "I don't know, she should be close to delivery now. And I haven't been there. I wasn't given a chance and that's really spoiling things for me."

My grasp on the cup tightened. To ease myself of the uprising emotions, I chugged in the coffee with all its steam and bitterness. I burned despite the hyper-functioning A C. I burned; but I was okay with it. Discomfort, unrest, chaos—the entire antonyms of peace had become my normal.

"Who is she?" Dr. Yolanda asked.

"Rina." Even calling her name impacted the need. The mere thought of her had my heart aching.

"A friend? Family?"

"Both. She's someone dear."

"And things haven't been going well between you two?"

The seat squealed as I pushed back into it. My gaze wandered into space.

"What happened?"

Where do I start? How do I begin?

I turned back to the doctor. "What do you want to know?"

"What happened? What led to the separation? The break-off." Getting silence as a reply, she wove her fingers together, hunching against her desk. "How determined are you to patch things up with her?"

"Very, that I ditched an online session for this."

"Then you should work towards achieving that. And it can only be possible if you talk to me. Don't see me as a third party, or someone controlled by sentiments and values."

I didn't like that I wasn't looking at her as that marked timidity, but at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to lift my gaze. Doing that unboxed me, exposing every layer I wanted hidden.

A scribbling sound broke the silence. I looked up to find her penning down something.

"Have this." She passed it across the table.

Picking it, I glanced at the writing that made no sense whatsoever:

A walk to the park (Piazza Paradiso preferably)

A journal for your heart content

20 minutes self evaluation

"What's this?"

"Some recommendations. They'll help in expressing your feelings."

I stared at her, then broke off in a dry chuckle.

"What's funny?"

"A walk to the park. Really? How's that going to help me?"

"You never know until you try."

"No, because there's no sense in that? It should do the opposite, don't you know? Seeing everyone admire nature, lazying around like they've got no problem, while I stay like a loner and wish, with no single one of them giving a fuck about me or my problems."

"Fair point." She smiled.

I scoffed, momentarily taken aback by her laid-back attitude.

"And"—I glanced down at the paper—"a journal for my heart content."

She nodded.

"If this isn't to girl me up, what's the goal?"

She pushed further against her desk. "You're my client; my work isn't complete until I bring you some sense of emotional closure. I believe you want a solution. You are earnestly searching for…" she tipped her head, urging me to speak. She continued as I didn't. "Peace. And that is my wish for you. The process, however, is step-wise. One day at a time. You've got to be in a better posi—"

"I've got no fucking idea what you're talking about."

"Go. Vai e preparati a palare con qualcuno. [Go and make yourself ready to talk to someone]. If you must get to the root of your problems, you should talk."

She was insistent I talked to her. Was it what I thought? Was Luigi involved in this? He'd go behind me to know the outcome of my session?

"You are inquisitive," I stated.

"I'm a therapist."

"And ally to my friend."

Her face lit in a smile that looked so genuine. "Luigi doesn't have the stomach to hear dirty secrets or juicy secrets." She air-quoted 'juicy'. "Plus, it is unethical to discuss a client."

"That's what you guys always say."

Her smile was still on, although it'd diminished. "Have you had an encounter with a therapist, apart from the one online?"

My eyes flung to where a clock was supposed to be, but I found none.

"Thirty-six minutes left," she said.

"You actually stretched it out to an hour." I was not to let my surprise show. I stared at the paper thereafter, feeling its smooth texture.

"Thirty what now?" I finally spoke.

"Time? Thirty-two."

I arched forward and placed the paper on the table, folding my hands, and bringing myself to look the doctor in the face. In spite of the hesitance brought upon by how dark my confession was.

"I hurt her. A lot and, every day, every waking hour, I curse myself for all I put her through. It mightn't look possible, and I can't say I don't know why anyone would think so, but I love her. So fucking much. And I want her. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get her back."

"You hurt her. In what way?"

"A lot of ways." I was unwilling to spill the entire bag of beans. "I was a jerk, rude, and unfriendly."

"Why were you?"

Nice question. Why was I?

"Vincenzo?"

"I don't know." I scratched my hair. "Delinquency, exuberance, I don't know."

"And the hate ran deep."

I answered after a quiet spell, "Yeah."

"So, what changed?"

Yes, Vincenzo, what changed? I fell back to the seat, exasperated. "I don't know."

Gosh, I never thought true therapy would be this hard.

"Can you describe how you feel about her?"

My gaze on her was lame— a step away from being a roll of the eye. But she wasn't fazed at all. Her expression, back to being plain.

"If you ever want to get out of this, you have to talk to me." Hitting a wall once again, she stood to help herself with a glass of water. "I've handled a lot of cases. People with different demons. These walls have heard the darkest. These ears too."

She set the cup atop the water filter and settled back on her chair. "Help me to help you."

"I don't need your help."

"Why then are you here?"

I didn't reply of course. I had nothing to say, being caught in my deceit.

"The truth is bitter, but acknowledgment it is a breath of fresh air. It doesn't make you any less a person to seek help, and you really are brave. Choosing to come here is a bold step; so I urge you to go further." Her eyes dropped to the note; they came back up to me. She nodded towards the note.

Despite myself, I took it.

"I believe you're tied up with school work. Dedicate some days—two, three—for those. I'll always be here waiting."

I looked on at the paper, more empty than ever.

"I've got testimonies about how effective the tips are. I could show you."

"What time is it?"

"Twelve-nineteen. Eight minutes more."

I rose from my seat and moved to the desk, dropping the coffee mug. "Thanks for the coffee."

I left without saying anything more. Strangely, the heaviness in my chest had lessened. Something told me the note in my palm did the trick. I was willing to place my hope on anything that posed as a remedy.

"Macché? [Are you kidding me?] Sent back to the bench?"

"Non dovresti essere sorpresso. Alvaro è sulla strada del pensionamento anticipato." [You shouldn't be surprised. Alvaro is on a path to early retirement]

My attention shifted to the men discussing soccer. I watched, not entirely interested in the topic they discussed but because an urge I didn't have a name for was taking form within me. I didn't know why I wanted to do this or why I'd conceived it.

The newspaper vendor, an elderly man who I hadn't given a nice first impression of, caught my gaze and quickly looked away.

That worsened matters. I was more motivated to walk up to him. He looked back up in absolute puzzlement as I reached for a newspaper.

"How much for this?"

He opened his mouth when I looked at him. "Twenty."

I dug out my wallet, and sent some bills his way. He looked at the money, then at me, then at the money again, before reaching out to take it.

I folded the paper, set to take my leave. "Have a nice day."

The astonishment of the people around the paper stand wasn't lost to me. The vendor, on his part, did not make a sound. He'd been left tongue-tied.

Within the confines of my car, I relaxed against the headrest. I badly wanted for things to go well, and that the little kindness I'd shown would bring a reward. Because, again, I'd chosen to look past the nasty comment the vendor had made the first time I'd come here. And I'd interacted with a commoner.

I'd done all that, hoping that fate would change its bad opinion of me and bring back Rina. That was all. I wanted nothing more.

***

The room was quieter than usual. My munching, ten times as loud. Mere walking sounded to be like a denoted bomb. And an insane feeling of vastness surrounded me.

I knew why. Every minute spent without Rina got lonelier. I was gradually reaching my limit. The nerve Madre had to send her off to wherever just for her to be away from…

Just for her to be away from me.

I let out a breath—a hard clasp on my pen—and shut my eyes. Flaring up wasn't an option because it'd spoil things, leaving me more and more miserable. I'd end up with a badly bruised heart, with itchy eyes and emotions running wild. I'd have a sleepless night, and if I managed to catch some sleep, I'd be visited with dreams about the perfect life. Me, Rina and the baby.

Hold her hand in the delivery room.

This was meant to be an item under the list for the baby; yet, somehow, it went back to Rina. Wasn't that enough proof that she was the centre of everything?

2.

For as long as forever, item two remained vacant. I stared and stared, until frustration swallowed me up and I tossed the pen aside. Going for some water. I gulped it feverishly; still I remained jittery.

I encouraged myself to be calm even though I had not a bit of idea about being a dad. I dreaded being a bad one, not only for Rina's sake, but because of Padre as well. The lack of fatherly care characteristic of him should never be found in me.

I turned around, facing a corner with artificial plants. Lying beside the pot was a shopping bag. I'd gone straight to a store, after the meeting with Dr. Yolanda to further practice goodness. I couldn't believe it'd taken me this long to get stuff for the baby.

Shoes, clothes, sippy cups and sundry. I didn't know what exactly I'd gotten because I had practically dumped anything within my reach into the shopping basket. My goal was to pay Rina a surprise visit, and get things resolved.

I picked up the bag and looked into it. I didn't know how to be bad, but one thing was sure, I wasn't going to be negligent.

Dropping the bag, I gave the journal a once-over, trying not to express amusement and got to the bed. Not knowing what to do, I thought of calling the boys. Luigi especially. All at once, I ruled out the idea, and sought for the newspaper I'd gotten earlier.

Since neither Luigi nor Michele knew the true depth of my problem, there was no need to call them. I gave a quick glance at the first page of the paper, then moved to the second. Not meeting anything of interest in the third page, I closed it. However, something held me.

Upon looking back at the news segment, my heart leapt. I went straight to the headline while wondering what Rina's picture was doing here. The headline did the trick. It hoisted me off the bed and I gaped, voicelessly saying: no, no, no.

"That's not true."

I grabbed my phone and dialed the city police, praying I'd be told a different story. That my imagination was at work.

"Hello, this is —"

"Vincenzo Moreno on the line. I'd like to know, was anyone by name Rina Zante reported missing?"

"Yes, Signore…." That was all I heard before my mind drifted.. Yes, Signor. Never had those words spelt doom. Never had they borne such magnitude. As a result, I became detached from myself. While my body moved, my mind raced against itself in thinking.

Only when I got to my car did I come around. With dread making a feast in my core, I went through my phone log. My grip on the steering, I sat at the edge of my seat, very close to exploding.

"Signore?"

I couldn't explain why I felt a jab upon hearing Lucia's voice.

"Hello?"

I brought myself to talk. "Are they home?"

"Alpha and Luna?"

Silence followed and I couldn't take it anymore.

'Fucking answer the question. Are they home!"

"Yes, but—"

Yes. That was all I needed to hear. I turned on the ignition and drove straight, not blinking nor loosening the clutch on the steering.

I didn't bother to honk when I arrived. Instead, I got a crowbar from the trunk and marched onwards. It'd serve two purposes. As a weapon and as a disturbance to the quietude that shouldn't exist here. Not caring to check if the gate was locked, I stuck the crowbar against it, firing a bang.

"Are you happy now, Gaspare Moreno?" I gave another bang. "You too, Luna. You have gotten your heart's desire now, isn't it? She's gone!"

I stuck the gate over and over, attempting to unleash my anger; yet, that proved unachievable.

I was on the verge of crying; I reined it in. And when a tear trickled down, I was tempted to use the crowbar on myself.

"Sadists. You…" I hit the gate. "Soulless fools. You finally did it. Madre, you are happy now. She's gone. Cheers; your image has never been safer."

I cussed while I banged the gate. I mourned while I slowly slipped from denial and I sagged from lethargy. My parents' coldness was so incredible it made me weak.

With my energy reserve diminishing, I slid to the ground. Defeated. There was no future. No matter how I hated to admit it, that was the truth. Dr. Yolanda had likened acknowledging the truth to a breath of fresh air. No. This was stifling. Suffocating.

From nowhere the gate clicked, the smaller entrance pulling inwards. I scrambled to my feet in complete surprise.

Time passed and no one came out. I took an unsure step forward, and eventually found my way inside the premises.

Everywhere was deserted if not for Lucia standing at the main entrance. The look on her face suggested she knew why I was here.

"They're upstairs. In Luna's room," she said when I met her.

I wasted no time. I headed towards the room, my energy restored. Quite surprisingly, Madre's door yielded.

I found them. Madre seated, and Padre standing beside her. The ambience was solemn. That pissed me off.

"Why is the mood suddenly gloomy? Why aren't you jubilating? You wanted her out of the way after all." They stayed quiet and I knew I'd look childish if I kept talking. I couldn't help it. "She was the one thing that gave me joy. Yes, I did her wrong, but I was ready to make amends. You just had to interfere and ruin everything."

Madre stood to her feet, her perpetually stoic expression on as she disappeared into her room. I'd thought I was used to her frigidity. No. My heart wretched by the move she just made.

I caught Padre's steady gaze which shimmered with something similar to pity. I, however, saw it as nothing other than a sham.

“You feel all those for her?” I turned away from him. What did he care? He hadn’t believed me when I'd said she was my mate.

"Vincenzo."

"What?" I turned around. "Is that a crime now?"

His brows relaxed. Still that had a way of annoying me..

"Congratulations," I said, walking out, "for making my day memorable."

"She's with twins."

I cut all movement.

"She ran because she found out she's carrying twins."

"What?" I turned around, almost giving out. Twins. Rina was with twins.

Padre stalked forward. And just when my feet were about to buckle, Madre showed up.

"There's a lead," she said. A frown crept to her face. "Alessio Salvatore.”