«Are you ready?»
How could I ever be ready? I looked in the mirror and I saw my aunt in the hallway. She looked like a ghost: she hadn't touched food in the last few days and hardly ever spoke. After all, how would you feel if your daughter died? Or worse, how would you feel if your daughter and her fiancé died?
I reached her and took her hand as we made our way to the funeral. I felt something on my face and looked up at the sky. Even the heavens were sad that day because, in a matter of seconds, the rain started to pour.
What happened that month is just a blur in my mind. It all happened so quickly. Marta's birthday, the accident, the funeral, the people stopping me on the street to give me their condolences.
I locked myself in my room, away from everything and everyone. Sometimes Joris or Hugo stopped by to check on me, but they quickly understood that I needed space and left me alone.
The days went on one after the other and they all look the same to me.
Except for September 1st. September 1st is the day that everything changed.
I was helping my aunt grocery shop. We tried to keep ourselves busy with silly tasks to get through the day, waiting for another to come. Suddenly my phone rang: it was Charles. I looked at my aunt, who was just as shocked as me. Charles never called, let alone me.
«Charles? - I asked with a trembling voice - Is everything ok?»
He waited a moment before he answered me. I had to go to his house that afternoon.
«It is really important,» he said.
«What's going on?» I tried to find out.
«I don't know. But I know someone has to tell us something».
Charles lived in a beautiful attic, in a building that overlooked the harbour. I had been there a few times, maybe two or three. He was very private and did not like people snooping around his things. I was surprised that he wanted to meet there but everything became clear once I entered the apartment.
Riccardo's lawyer was sitting in the living room, looking through a stack of papers. If the lawyer was involved it meant a serious matter, something that could not be discussed in public.
When he saw me he got up and I got close to shake his hand. I sat on the couch near Charles, leaving a safe distance between us. We turned to each other at the same time but did not say a word.
«There is no easy way to say this - started the man - but it is an urgent matter that we must discuss as soon as possible». I took a deep breath while Charles kept playing with the bracelet he was wearing.
«I know this is a difficult time for you. You lost your friends and I know it must be hard. But I think that a ray of sunshine is about to enlighten your lives. If you remember, you are Chiara's godparents. Well, as they stated here, they wanted you two to take care of her if anything happened to them».
Oh God. The little Chiara. I thought she would stay with Riccardo's parents, her grandparents. For a second, I felt my heart stop. I felt the weight of the whole world on my shoulders.
Charles, on the other hand, was stoic. A literal statue. At that moment I wanted to be in his mind. What was he thinking? What was he feeling?
We had to sign what looked like a thousand papers and from that Monday we would have had joint custody of the baby. I hate how these things work. It isn't like buying a doll and taking care of it. We are talking about a real person and things are more delicate.
During the whole process, Charles did not say a word. The lawyer walked us through all the procedures: I flooded him with questions and doubts while he simply nodded.
That afternoon seemed infinite. We signed paper after paper. Finally, around 9, the lawyer left.
«Do you want to grab something to eat? We could start planning, make a schedule...» I asked. Even though I loathed him, I did not want to be alone that night and I needed something to occupy my thoughts.
But the only thing he said was «I'll text you Monday morning». So I left.
Monday came and we had to pick up Chiara from her grandparents' house. It was devastating. How could we take her from them? Of course, they would have still seen her whenever they wanted but still. It was wrong. For the first time in my life, I disagreed with Marta and she wasn't there to explain to me why she did it.
Charles was late. As always. I waited for him for over an hour. I thought he might have overslept since he raced in Zandvoort that weekend. But it was strange: even if Charles was tired, he never overslept. I decided to walk to what was Riccardo's childhood home. His parents still lived there, in a small, modest apartment in the centre of Monaco. It would have been perfect for raising Chiara. Outside of the colourful building, I saw Monsieur Javert, the lawyer that has been helping us. I was chatting with him while we were waiting for Charles when I heard my phone ring.
From Charles:
Can't make it, you take care of it.
Perfect. Not only I was doing one of the most difficult things ever, but I was doing it alone.
Riccardo's parents were lovely. They were downhearted because they wanted to raise their granddaughter, but they understood their son's decision. They would never doubt their son's choices.
And that was it. They handed me the baby and I was out of the door. I walked home, holding that little ray of sunshine in my arms. I smiled at her while tears were falling from my eye onto her tiny sundress.
That afternoon Hugo came by to my house. He offered to help me settle in: he built her crib, her dresser...
«So he didn't show up?» Hugo asked. We were sitting on my tiny terrace, relaxing while Chiara was napping.
«He didn't» I answered, taking a sip of beer and looking at the sea in the distance.
«He should have»
«I know»
We talked for a while. The sun was setting. One day down, forever to go.
«I don't think you'll see him anytime soon»
«I know. Monza is coming up. It's a tough one»
We stared at the horizon for a minute in complete silence.
«I don't know why he is such a jerk to you. You are so precious, Alba. One of the most amazing people I know. You're funny, caring...Everyone feels good when you're around. I-I just don't understand» I could feel that his words were sincere. Hugo is always honest. I don't think he ever lied.
«I know. Thank you, Hugo»