In your arms

September 29, 2023 - Elementary School, Los Angeles

Thank you everyone!

September 29, 2023 - Elementary School, Los Angeles

During my relationship with Carina a decade ago, I showed myself curious about her in every aspect, including the cultural one. Right from the start, from the kisses on the cheeks to the physicality, from the gestures to the tone of voice, I realized that there was a major cultural gap between Italy and the United States, which basically has always fascinated me. Actually then, a decade ago, I was much more interested in getting to know Carina in other aspects, the more personal and intimate ones, but in a way also more superficial. It was over the course of all these years that I read, I informed myself, I watched documentaries, I did research. I don't know if making coffee with a mocha, for example, has always served me, deep down, to feel closer to Carina. I do know, however, that slowly parts of Italian culture have become parts of me.

Something that has always fascinated me, this also through Carina's stories, is the relationship of Italians with numerology and superstition. The fact that each number corresponds to an event, an object, has its own meaning has always left me amazed. The number 29, specifically, corresponds to the "father of children," and I have always found a strange twist of fate in that fact. Over the years I tried not to think about this number, this date actually, today, because the pain associated with the loss of Carina was excruciating and often made me furious or depressed or helpless. Then fate once again had a hand in it. And today as I sit in front of this pile of rubble, after five years still piled up like an heirloom, a memorial to the Fallen, to me, I think that after all, "the children's father" was always behind it all, mine.

About twenty minutes ago I received a text message from Andy, and I read it only because if she wrote me just today, it must have been urgent. That's why I don't even turn around when I hear footsteps behind me. Then again, the message was quite clear, on another occasion even funny in its own way.

Andy: sorry, sorry, sorry. I had to, I repeat HAD TO, tell Carina where you are. She told me you haven't been in touch for more than 24 hours and she got scared. I tried to deflect it and reassure her, but your girlfriend can be very scary and persuasive and, God, did I already say scary? At one point she shouted a series of swear words at me, I think, in narrow Sicilian dialect, and I prayed for the alarm to go off as quickly as possible. I mean, sorry. She'll get to you soon. And... Maya? Make room for her.

Therefore I am well aware of how much worry Carina carries around, but I certainly didn't expect that her first reaction to seeing me would be to give me a slap on the head and then another on the shoulder and then another on the other shoulder and then I had to stop her by the wrists if she didn't smash my face.

M < Carina! Carina! I'm fine!> I exclaim.

C < but I don't! Bitch!> she violently breaks away from my grasp and takes two steps back, before sighing deeply and sitting cross-legged, like me, keeping some distance. Now that she is here, the distance seems abysmal, and I am not just talking about this moment. In the last few days, two weeks maybe, it seems to me that the same pile of rubble, that I have been staring at so far, is building up between us.

C < what are you doing here?> she asks me after a few minutes of silence. I'm still not ready to share my story though.

M < do you feel distant? > I ask instead and she sighs, running her hands through her hair.

C < you disappeared for more than 24 hours! How do you think I feel?!> I shake my head.

M < before. In the past few days..> I barely dare to look at her and realize she has a ripple of concern on her forehead.