VICTORIA'S POV
I found myself in the garden of my house, looking at the bright green of the grass, the barbecue wall all scratched with coloured pencils. The flowers Ella had planted at daycare didn't lose their brightness, even though it wasn't spring. I often saw Mia and Eleven lying on the roof on their stomachs, which made me question the true abilities of a cat. The book I'd been reading for weeks, Blindness, rests on a table made of splattered wood, Harper's latest work for the publicity of my new clothing collection.
'Love?' I hear, behind me.
'It's time to go.'
'Are you sure? I love seeing it here. And besides, Henry's still at school.'
'Don't worry, Fred's staying with Ella and Amy will be at school in no time. You need to worry less.'
'Right,' I reply.
'The exams?'
'Here,' says the dark-haired man, showing me a huge binder with them.
'Daje, Greg's waiting.'
'I thought he'd swapped shifts? Wasn't it Michael?'
'There was some kind of rescue, he had to switch. Ready?'
'Always ready.'
Getting inside that car was familiar to me. It's been almost five months of that. Every week.
Arriving at the venue, my chair is already waiting for me. The staff always keeps my blanket, my favourite snacks. I pick up my book again, while they don't arrive to administer my treatment.
'Everything OK?' my love asks me as he holds me tightly.
'Do you like this bandana?'
'Yes, it has a good elasticity,' I smile.
'Where did you buy it?'
'It was mum, in Milan.'
'I miss Milan,' I sigh.
'When is Talia going there again? I need to show her some ideas. Dam?'
'Sorry,' he says, putting on his glasses. 'I haven't spoken to her yet. They're very busy with the new collection. You'll love it.'
'If only I was alive to see it, right?'
'Don't talk like that. You're strong.'
'Only today's exams will tell us anything....'
'Whatever it is, we have to be brave, okay?' I nod.
The hours pass slowly in a place where everyone is slowly dying. This session was going to be longer, it was scheduled to end at 7pm. I watched the liquid come out of the machine, drip by drip, and almost fell asleep just watching. A while later Raquel arrived, just leaving.
'Victoria de Angelis, in room 16,' I hear the automatic voice say.
I go slowly at the pace I know, clutching my love in my arms. We enter that room, once again, expecting everything or nothing. The strength my feet had was never the same again. I was now walking with a lot of effort, after re-learning how to do it.
'It's back, isn't it?" I ask, seeing the doctor's blank stare.
'I'm sorry.'
I put my head down on my legs, searching for something. Everything was so good, after the surgery, the first rounds of treatments.
'It's a glioblastoma. A type of tumour, which, is aggressive.'
A tumour. Another one. I didn't know if I could take much more.
'Is it operable?' Dam asked straight away.
'Yes, it is. You can see it's newly formed, it's not more than 3 months old. It needs to be treated urgently. I wanted to ask you if there's any chance of you travelling to get it treated somewhere good.'
'Where?'
'At the UCSF Brain Tumour Center. It's in San Francisco. I have colleagues there with decades of experience.'
'Right... When can we start treatment?' Damiano asks.
'I've already written the letter of recommendation, I can send it to you at any time.'
'Then send it--- '
'Wait, Dam. I have to think about this.'
-
'What were you thinking about?' he asks me, as soon as we're in the car again.
'Damiano...'
'I don't understand, you want to get better, right?'
'Damiano,' I repeat, my voice rising, 'I've already lost my hair, my uterus, my career, a daughter, and opportunities that don't turn down. I don't want to keep living this life where the smell of antiseptic is more familiar than home, where I feel like less of a mother or a person or an artist with each passing day.'
'I saw him look at the telly, with that empty look. Ever since we discovered this illness that took me off the stage and out of being a happy person, he has been the optimistic one. I see it as a final countdown, to my end. I'm freshly 42, I feel tired of living fighting an invisible illness and spending my day to day on it.
'That means you...'
'I want to let it go.'
...
"This documentary is based on a collection of information between 2044 and 2046, with some breaks and episodes reported in Victoria's diary, who made some excerpts available and even ill allowed weeks of interview in the hospital. A big thank you to all those who agreed to do the interviews that complemented this work, and to Leonardo Grillo, Giovanna Ricci, Anja Larsen, Harper David and Damiano David for their hard work in making this self-requested work possible. In memory of Victoria de Angelis, who passed away serenely in Copenhagen at the age of 46 as a result of cervical cancer and associated problems.She left behind her husband Damiano David and their children Harper 'Harp' de Angelis David and twins Bella and Henry de Angelis David, aged just 5, on 7 January 2047," I say, following up on the better draft I had written.
I was only 17 when my mum started taking me to Aria Project meetings. I had no idea, but she wanted me to take her place. Henry and Ella were just two years old when we found out about our mum's cancer. Moments that should have been spent playing at home were traded for hiding under hospital beds. The day Leo suggested I take part in this information gathering for the documentary, I felt an inexplicable connection. 4 years later, 2 years after my mum passed away, I took on the role of creative director on a production that went unnamed until the first few weeks of shooting, later set to the same name as her first independent collection in the industry where she showed her capabilities the most. On further analysis, I discovered that it was designed around a metaphor of a person too pure and authentic for the world to notice. Does that description remind you of anyone?
She, who many know as a Grammy winner, an Oscar winner, a VMA winner, an AMA winner, and endless others, raised me to accept the dark side of the outside as well as my inside, and to never be afraid to be fragile and advocate for what was mine. Many have known Victoria de Angelis, but I and those closest to her have had the privilege of knowing her heart.
"Any opinions, Harp?" asks Élodie, one of the editors.
"It's amazing," Henry says as he arrives in the room, late as ever. "Where's Dad gone?"
"Don't ask me." Ella complains, as usual. The two twins, who couldn't stand each other when they were little, had much the same personality, and the same little light brown curls in front of their faces.
My father enters the room, and in a velvety voice says:
"Goldwing. 28 April in cinemas. You have to let me say that in that voice, please."
"It would be nice, but important people are waiting for us downstairs," Uncle Leo says, sighing.
"You know I don't care one tiny fucking bit how people see me, right?" he replies, with his usual audacity.
"Of course we do," I say, "but we'd better get going, in a few minutes we'll have cameras capturing the finest detail of each of us.
And so we went.