Chapter Four #3
The blinds of her private room were closed, the lights dimmed, so Leo didn’t need to hear her answer confirming she was still a little sensitive to light.
He hadn’t considered himself a religious man, yet the fact Simone was sitting upright in a chair and able to see at all was like every prayer he’d cast to the universe had been answered.
She’d been given back to him, when his mother had been committed to a grave, in darkness for ever.
‘Thank you for your care of my wife. Of us both.’ His words choked in his throat.
He breathed through the burn at the back of his nose.
Staff had been immeasurably professional and kind, especially when for a while they’d feared her condition was critical, till scans had proved her head injury wasn’t as serious as it might have been.
‘You’re doing well,’ the specialist said. ‘My star patient. We can discharge you today. I’ll arrange for staff to bring the necessary paperwork and book a follow up appointment.’
As the doctor made to leave, Leo stood, held out his hand. She’d been recommended as one of Italy’s finest neurosurgeons and nothing he could say to her would be enough to encompass how he felt in this moment.
‘I’d like to make a donation,’ he said. Money was all he had to atone for his sins. Just as it was for the people he’d harmed as a reckless teenager in Rome, it wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. ‘To the hospital foundation. Or is there a charity you’d prefer?’
‘That’s generous, Signor Zanetti. We have a foundation that evaluates novel brain injury treatment. However, there’s never enough funding.’
‘There will be now,’ he vowed. ‘I’ll have my office contact you for details.’
‘Grazie,’ she said and left the room.
He walked towards Simone, sitting in a chair wearing a soft, casual black dress from her wardrobe, with gold sneakers.
Items she’d asked him to bring for her. It had seemed strangely intrusive, searching through her clothes, yet as he did so, he’d gleaned a bit more about her style.
How some of the things she owned that he’d never seen before, seemed a little whimsical.
He wondered when she wore them. A soft and silky scarf in cornflower blue, black and orange.
Earrings with little dangling enamel lemons.
Things he’d never imagined she might wear yet once he’d seen them, he somehow couldn’t imagine her not.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, touching Simone’s hand, which was reassuringly alive with warmth. The last time he’d touched his mother her hand had begun to cool. He shuddered.
Simone looked down at his hand over hers. She shrugged. ‘Fine, all things considered.’
Simone didn’t look it. Her skin was pale and she had dark shadows under her eyes. She’d said that people kept waking her up through the night, every night, asking her questions and checking her vitals.
‘Good. Photographers are still at the front door. Our car will be coming around back to avoid them.’
‘Photographers? That’s ridiculous.’
‘I agree.’ He knew what they wanted. To take photographs of any bruising that remained on her face and down her arm where she’d fallen.
She was so lucky not to have broken anything.
The marks were already fading and were at the stage of green and yellow now.
They’d been gone within two weeks he’d been told.
But it was still an awful reminder that things could have been so much worse.
There’d been warnings about the effects of a head injury, given her period of unconsciousness and post traumatic confusion.
Irritability, disinhibition, tiredness and so many more.
Simone had seemed lucky to have been spared most of them. Not everyone would have been.
‘Can you imagine what they’d say of me now? They wouldn’t be as charitable as calling me Plain Jane.’
The heat that rose to his gut was instant and volcanic.
‘Anything they say about your appearance, other than you are a beautiful woman still recovering from a serious injury, would be unwarranted and they will be punished.’
Her eyes widened. ‘How would you punish them?’
It had been another failing of his. He’d believed that most of the uncharitable commentary about Simone’s appearance was an aberration that would die down if they simply ignored it long enough. No longer.
‘I’ll stop providing information or access to those who don’t co-operate.’
His press releases were usually distributed equitably. Now, he’d cut off anyone who persisted in writing negatively about her. Circolo’s media department wouldn’t be happy, but he didn’t give a damn.
A knock sounded at the door and it opened. An orderly walked in with a wheelchair.
‘Is this necessary?’ Simone asked. ‘I can walk.’
A nurse followed behind carrying some papers. ‘Since you’ve had dizziness, si. It’s policy. Just to be sure.’
Simone nodded then stopped. Shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked in pain and it was yet another reminder that he hadn’t looked after her when he should have. When he’d promised to. After a few moments she raised her head.
‘Did you manage to bring my sunglasses?’
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair he’d found. He handed them to her and she slipped them on. They covered most of the visible bruising. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, then looked around the room.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.’