Fatalé (18+)

Chapter twenty four

Nico

"Do you like it over there?"

I blink with my jaw wired shut, it felt like that as I clench my jaw really hard. That was an absurd question. What's there to like about New York? Ever since I've reached this city, I haven't felt heat. Not good heat anyway, not Italy's heat. No wonder people are constantly miserable walking in the streets in Manhattan because they have nothing to smile about. But sometimes, I think it's because people over there haven't seen what Italy looks like at seven in the morning. They haven't tasted the food in Italy, they haven't seen what a wedding looks like in Italy, perhaps that's why their lives are so boring here.

"It's fine."

"No it's not." She says, instinctively, like she flicked through my thoughts like an open book. I glance at her and I shake my head. "I can hear it in your voice figlio. You hate it there." My mother points out, "Italy is your home cara, your home is here."

I watch my Madre and her innocent face crumple into a state of sadness, her skin was so pale, it was beginning to wrinkle a lot more now. Colour drains out of her face more and more, and it hurt to witness that. Her hazel eyes were full with memories but they were still so empty, like she was either waiting for something or she's had enough of life already. When Madre watches me with a frown, she takes my hand in her and rubs it between hers. My hands warms her cold ones.

"Mamma, I'm here." I say, "Italy has always been my home." I repeat her words and lean forward to kiss her face because those type of affections is what Madre needed right now.

Content spreads across her entire face as I pull away and watch her, her eyes were full of life again but still, something told me that she's had enough. I felt helpless, I had no idea what would suffice or what would help but I think it's time for me to accept the reality that Madre was ageing the way I didn't want her to. I've spent my entire life watching her keep a family together, she was the foundation of our home and now to suddenly witness her in such a weak and frail state, left me in disbelief. I was in denial, I was selfish because I only saw what I wanted to believe. I've spent the last three weeks in Italy with my mother, something I didn't know I needed.

There was a silence between us for a minute, and then, she sighs. Loud, too loud that it was unusual. I didn't like that because I could already hear the imminent lecture that she's about to give. I attempt to stand up to move away so I can speak with her carer but as I do, mamma reaches for my hand again and pulls me gently closer to her.

"Why did you leave Niccolò?" She asks, her voice was small and clipped with pain. "Niccolò, you know how lonely it gets here without your father and Alessia." She mumbles. Though I was already down on my knees, I felt my knees drop and the instant tension just settle on me. I blink at her and feel all my words stuck in my throat, as she blinks right back at me for answers, my mind becomes blank. "Figlio, how is Alessia doing anyway? Is the baby keeping her up?"

I stare at her again and blink again but this time, it burned to blink. Suddenly, each thought slipped out of my mind. Each word was no longer stuck in my throat because I gulped, and it hurt. I breathe unsteadily. I knew her health was unstable but I quickly realised how much it was deteriorating. I learnt this in the last three weeks and now realised its really time I come home so I can spend as much time as I can with her before it's her time. I feel cold, her words felt like a knife had just driven into my stomach and teared it apart. I gulp again as I look down at her hand, I reach for her them and hold it in mine. I glance back at her and sigh.

"Mamma, when was the last time you saw Alessia?" I ask,

"Oh..." she mumbles, anticipation stirred in her tone as she thinks. "last... last week? Sì, last week, when you and Alessia came back to the villa and told us you're having a little raggazo." She states joyfully, like it was one of her best memories. I watch her smile expand as she convinces herself what she believed to be the truth but as I watch her, I see that exact day as I reminisce telling my parents that I was having a son. Madre remembers that day too, only she thinks it happened recently when it happened seventeen years ago.