Chapter 18
Vico
Hands buried in my pockets, I shift from one foot to the other. It's been ten minutes since Hanna left me alone up here to talk to her Florian.
I wonder what they're discussing. It must be something I'm not meant to hear. I saw it in her expression and her hurried movements when she practically ran away from me to take the call.
Since she's been gone, the tightness in my chest keeps increasing. It's as if the old walls, with their dampness, are suffocating me. I'd rather run away right now. Go bungee jumping or walk a highline. Anything to drown out this feeling that's making it hard to breathe.
But I can't leave Hanna alone here. Yesterday, my father reminded me how crucial it is that the purchase goes through. He looked at me with so much desperation that I couldn't help but promise him I'd do my best.
I wander along the hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking dangerously loud under my feet. The movement helps; it's better than standing still and letting memories take over my mind.
Too quickly, I reach the window at the end of the corridor, giving a view of the overgrown olive grove. The individual trees are barely visible, hidden beneath the tall weeds. There's no sign of Mother's oleander bushes.
Did Father get rid of them because they reminded him too much of her? Or did he just leave them, like everything else here, to their fate, including himself?
Whatever it was, I can't dwell on it. I shake the questions from my mind and turn away. At that moment, I notice that the door to my parents' former bedroom is ajar. I step closer and tap the warped wooden door with its carved ornaments. It squeaks open, and I immediately regret giving it a push.
The other rooms in the house have either been cleared out or roughly taken care of. But here, everything remains as it was.
The simple double bed with its tall leather headboard. The fur rug. The closets with the mirrored fronts.
A spider scurries across the blue-gray painted wall. The dresser is covered in thick dust. And right where the breeze from the drafty windows gently stirs it up, I spot our family album. Even though it's covered in cobwebs and dust, I instantly recognize it.
My stomach tightens, but I still approach the dresser. Ever since our conversation at Spiaggia bianche, something has changed within me as well. The way she spoke to me about the value of family lingers in my mind. And especially the way she looked at me while doing so.
I take the album into my hands and touch the leather cover with my fingertips. Dust rises and fills my lungs. La famiglia Olivetta is embossed in golden letters on the front.
La famiglia Olivetta doesn't exist anymore.
I told Hanna that, and it's the truth. Wishing for something else wouldn't make any sense.
Opening the album now and looking at the pictures from long-gone happy times wouldn't change anything either. In fact, it would only make things worse. I should put the album back. That's the best thing to do.
"What did you find?" That's Hanna. She sounds so close, as if she's standing right behind me and could easily reach out to see for herself what I'm holding so tightly.
"Nothing." There's a cold detachment in my voice. Quickly, I place the album back and turn around. "Did you manage to sort everything out?"
She tilts her head and looks at me curiously. Then she nods timidly.
"Good, let's continue." I want this to be over as quickly as possible so we can leave.
To a place where we feel free. Where it's just the two of us.
Her gaze briefly flickers to the album, and then she smiles faintly. "Sure."
Together, we leave the room, and I close the door behind us. I check multiple times to make sure it's really closed even though I feel a bit ridiculous doing so. I'm acting as if the album could come alive and haunt me in my sleep if I don't lock it away.
"May I ask you something?" Hanna wants to know as I turn to leave. She's kneading her fingers as if she's nervous.
I would prefer to decline because I can imagine what she wants. She saw the album. And who knows how long she's been standing behind me, observing my reaction to that stupid thing.
"As a graphic designer, you must have a good eye for perspective," she says, even though I didn't ask to. She can barely look at me. Instead, she quickens her pace. When I nod, she lets out a long breath. "Could you help me take beautiful photos of the landscape? The ones I've taken so far are unusable." An apologetic smile forms on her lips, her eyes filled with sadness.
Ah, so that's what she talked to her boyfriend about earlier. "Did this Florian say that?" I blurt out even though it shouldn't matter to me at all.
"We both think so," she says, raising her hands in a placating gesture.
Despite her casual demeanor, something about her expression is downcast. She seems hurt, and there's only one explanation for that. He's to blame.
"Let me see, I'm sure they're beautiful." I reach out my hand to her.
Immediately, she shakes her head. "They're bad. Seriously."
She sounds convinced. However, I'm sure this opinion didn't come from her. If it did, she would have asked for my help much earlier. Surely, Florian convinced her of this. And she let herself be convinced.
What kind of relationship are they in, anyway?
Until today, she hasn't mentioned him at all. And when she talked about him earlier, she seemed quite detached. It's strange. What binds them together? Could it even be love?
"So will you help me?" Hanna nudges me from the side.
I thoughtfully push my hair back. Helping her also means helping this Florian. It should be irrelevant to me, but everything in me resists.
Hanna's expectant gaze disappears, and she lowers her eyelids. "It was a dumb idea. I'm sorry."
"No," I suddenly hear myself croak, "I'll help you, of course." My voice fails, and I have to clear my throat several times. "That's no problem at all." Why am I doing this, dammit?
"Thank you," she breathes out in relief. "Can we start in Val D'Orcia tomorrow morning? It's supposed to be picturesque there." A faint smile appears on her face, and at that moment, I feel as if I'm looking at the rising sun.
My goodness, what is happening to me?
The estate. The memories. And now Hanna with her talk about family. All of it is slowly driving me crazy.
It has to stop now. "Sure. Do we continue here or call it a day?" I ask hastily, clapping my hands to dispel these absurd feelings even though I already sense that won't help either.