Like Hurricanes

15. No hurricanes

All of this was unfamiliar to her. It was her first time going to a club, first time drinking so much alcohol, first time making out with a stranger in the bathroom. She cried as she vomited. She cried harder once she stopped. There were people more or less our age standing in front of the club. One of them was my basketball team mate. He waved hi and didn't say anything, but his friends stared at Virginia and laughed.

And in the corner stood Virginia's dad. Stern face, expressionless eyes. I think he saw it all, from the beginning to end. The ugly scene of her daughter puking her guts out. He didn't say a word, he didn't move. And yet his firm gaze froze Virginia's shaking body. Her lips still quivered, but her eyes were petrified.

If he just hugged her.

If he just put his arms around her fragile body and reassured her that she wasn't as pathetic as she thought she looked. That she was a princess. That this was just a bad night and he was here to take her home, to the cosiness of her bedroom and the comfort of a warm cup of tea. If he just told her that he loved her, that he forgave her because he understood and because he knew that beneath that ugly make-up and heels, still hid his little princess that he once used to carry on his shoulders.

"Get in the car," he said. He pointed at me, "you too."

I didn't plan on leaving the party. I thought I'd take Virginia to the car and then go back to the beach. I didn't warn anyone that I was leaving, I didn't even tell Dario. And yet, I was now sitting in the back seat of Colombo's car. Perhaps a part of me was intimidated by Virginia's father, but the main reason I stayed was the look on Virginia's face. She needed me. She needed a friend. Even as he drove, her father kept silent. Maybe this passive aggression was better than a soap opera scene where everyone is yelling, yet it was somehow more uncomfortable.

"How much did you drink?" he asked with a calm and stern voice.

"I don't know," Virginia whispered.

"Was it just alcohol or were there other substances?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"It was just alcohol."

He looked at her through the rear view mirror. "What are you wearing?"

She kept silent.

"Virginia. What's under that hoodie?"

Her hands clenched into fists. Her knees trembled.

"What is –" He raised his voice, accentuating every word with a crescendo.

"Nothing, there's nothing!" she finally replied. "I was wearing a dress, but we took a bath and I left it on the beach."

"You took a bath? In November?"

"It wasn't cold."

"Your lips are fucking blue."

She gulped and lowered her eyes.

"If you get hypothermia," he said, "don't expect me to pity you. I don't feel empathy for stupid people."

That was cold. Unnecessary, rude and straight out ruthless. If he wanted to say that she shouldn't do it again, wasn't there a nicer way to convey that message?

"Does mum know?" Virginia asked with a cracking voice.

"Does she know that her daughter lost all of her dignity? No, but she'll know when she sees you."

Virginia burst out crying. Not that she wasn't crying before, but now she was really, really sobbing her heart out. Her father didn't react and kept driving, the only emotion I could read on his face was irritation.

"You're an asshole," I said.

I didn't know how those words escaped my mouth, but I was glad they did. I had a rich vocabulary for fathers like him. Virginia turned her red eyes on me, but didn't say anything. She was too tired to try to stop me, but her face just read 'Pit, don't'. I ignored the message.

"Do you even know what your daughter is going through? Do you even care? How can you just sit there and listen to her cry and be so fucking indifferent? You're the worst father I've ever met!"

I was yelling. I didn't realize I was yelling. I didn't mean to. I looked at him through the rear view mirror, but he didn't glance up even once. No reaction, no anger, no nothing.

He stopped the car. "Get out."

Virginia grasped the back of his seat. "No, dad, you can't, please..."

"Get the fuck out of my car."

Now his eyes were fixed on mine. And God, they were terrifying. Cold blue, like icebergs in a black hole. His voice still steady, but now much more intimidating. I glanced at Virginia, she glanced at me, and then I opened the car door and stepped out. The wind outside was cold and bitter.

"Dad, you can't just leave him there," I heard her say. "He's drunk! How is he gonna – "

The car slowly disappeared behind the horizon. I watched it fade away and didn't move. And then, I don't remember much of  what happened next. It was all blurry, like neon lights. I was walking and I was alone and I could feel the first rays of light on my skin. The streets were empty and so was I. The sun was hiding from me and I was hiding from it. I felt lonely. And I knew I wasn't supposed to feel that way. But it happened to me quite often. That feeling when you leave a party and you know you're alive you're young you're free you have plenty of friends and your life is a miracle. But then you stop.

                    

    You stop and you realize you're standing all alone on a street you've never seen before and you're puking and shaking and you just want to go home. But you don't know where your home is anymore. You don't know if you belong there. If you belong anywhere. And you become aware of the way your heart beats and the world becomes so silent it's terrifying. You look at your hands and you wonder if they're real, if you are real or if life is just an illusion. And then you know you're fucked up. And you know the world around you is just as fucked up as you.

    I sat on the ground, my ass was freezing and my mouth still tasted of vomit. I thought of everything and everyone I knew, my friends, my family, the sky above me, and all of it, every moment, every face, was utterly abominable. Whatever we said, whatever we did, we were disgusting creatures. All of us except... except her. Noemi Defelice. I didn't know why I thought of her so late at night with only street lights keeping me company, but maybe thinking of her had become a habit of mine... Thank God I didn't know where she lived, or I'd be knocking on her door right now and screaming her name at the top of my lungs and crying like I'm crying now.  And she didn't need that. So many of us were lost, she was one of the few that had it all figured out and I'd rather die than ruin that. But... maybe if she knew that I roamed around the city like an abandoned beaten dog and if she knew that even when my hair stunk of alcohol I could still have a fragile heart and I too was scared of silence and I too was immensely and deeply alone, maybe if she knew all that, she'd hug me. And I think that little hug would save the world. It would save my world. 

    Did she like me? She must have liked me, right? How could she stand me if she didn't? I'd do so much for her. I'd build a new planet Earth just for her. A planet with no cruelty and no hatred. I'd start right now if I wasn't drunk. God, thinking of her broke my heart. All that goodness inside of her, it would tear her apart one day, wouldn't it? Why was she – why were we like this? With our big hearts, always caring about everyone and everything. Sometimes it felt like the universe's duty was to break souls like ours.