Chapter 5 Loretta
L ORETTA
Alberto groans and flutters his eyelids open. Loretta flies out of her seat to be at his side.
He looks at her from under his heavy lids and smiles a weak smile. ‘Loretta.’ His voice is raspy. ‘Ho sete.’ I’m thirsty.
The nurse, a woman called Oriana, who looks young enough to still be in high school and has long peroxided hair pulled into a severe ponytail, is already standing on the other side of his bed, filling up his glass with water. ‘Signore, are you comfortable?’
‘What’s this for?’ He tugs irritably at the nasal prongs.
‘Oxygen. Don’t touch it,’ Oriana replies as she checks his temperature. ‘Are you comfortable?’
‘No.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Her baby face is full of concern.
‘I want to go home.’ He directs this at Loretta.
‘Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?’ Oriana rests her hand on his shoulder.
He coughs. ‘Yes, let me go home.’
‘I can’t do that, signore. I’m paging Dottore Falcone to let him know you’re awake again.’
Alberto waves his arms about. ‘I already told the other doctor before, I’m not having any surgery.’ He turns to Loretta. ‘Tell them, cara. Tell them there’s nothing wrong with me. I fainted, that’s all.’
‘Nothing wrong with you?’ Loretta shakes her head. ‘You nearly died today. Your heart stopped!’
The curtains are pulled open and the cardiologist who took over on the ward a few minutes ago, Luca Falcone, walks in. Luca is the son of one of Loretta’s oldest friend’s, Pia. She’s known him since the day he was born.
‘Buonasera, Zio, Zia.’ He gives them a small smile and consults the clipboard at the foot of the bed. ‘Zio, my colleagues tell me you’re refusing to have the defibrillator inserted. Care to tell me why?’
‘It’s not natural having a machine in my heart. Besides, I’m fine now. Look at me, I’ve never been better. I can even sing, listen.’ He breaks into the chorus of ‘O Sole Mio’ at full volume.
‘ Shh. ’ Loretta slaps his arm. ‘You’re in the intensive care unit. Cretino.’
‘Just because you can sing doesn’t mean you won’t have another cardiac arrest,’ Luca says.
‘I don’t want to end up like Alfonzo Buccaletti,’ Alberto replies. ‘He went to Milan and let the fanciest heart specialist in Italy operate on him, and what happened? Boom, dead! No, thank you, no boom dead for me.’
Luca pulls up a plastic chair and sits next to Loretta. The chair barely contains his long, athletic limbs; Luca is well over six foot tall. He’s always been handsome, no less so now that he’s middle-aged. His dark hair, just beginning to be speckled with grey, is held in a bun and he has a nicely cropped beard.
‘I heard about Signore Buccaletti,’ Luca says, ‘but you’re not in the same situation as he was. He was a very sick man needing extremely risky surgery – that’s why he had to go to Milan. The surgery you need is simple. I’ve performed hundreds of them. And I’ll tell you something. Considering you’re a heavy smoker, your arteries are in surprisingly good shape. The only reason you had the cardiac arrest is because your heartbeat isn’t well regulated. It beats too fast. If we put the defibrillator in, the problem’s fixed. You’ll live till you’re a hundred – as long as you give up smoking.’
Alberto waves dismissively at him. ‘My heart beat a bit too fast one time, so what? It won’t happen again.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Luca argues. ‘It’s very likely to happen again, and if you have another cardiac arrest you might not be so lucky next time.’
‘Listen to Luca,’ Loretta says. ‘You need the operation, Alberto.’
Alberto juts his jaw out. ‘No.’
She has to stop herself from slapping his arm again.
Luca turns to her. ‘Have you tried to convince him, Zia?’
‘I have.’ She narrows her eyes at Alberto. ‘And you just missed Rocco and Marina here. They both tried too. None of us can get it through his skull made of concrete.’
Luca stands. ‘Give it some more thought, per favore. I’ll come back to check on you soon.’
When Luca leaves, Oriana occupies herself with Alberto’s bedside chart. Loretta’s about to give Alberto a strong talking to, but he reaches out for her hand and clutches it tightly.
‘I’m scared, Loretta,’ he whispers.
Her anger at his stubbornness evaporates. He looks so small. ‘What are you scared of?’
‘Dying in the operation like Alfonzo.’
‘But you heard what Luca said. It’s different.’
‘Still.’
‘I’m more scared about losing you if you don’t have it.’
‘You won’t lose me,’ he says. ‘Do you want me to sing again so you can see how strong I am now?’
‘I beg you, no.’
He laughs and then lets out a long sigh and shuts his eyes, keeping them closed.
Soon he’s breathing deeply and she’s left alone with her thoughts. Shamefully, instead of those thoughts remaining on Alberto, she goes back to obsessing over Flavia, whose surprise reappearance has stolen her mind ever since she saw her standing in the lobby.
It’s not that she doesn’t love Alberto, it’s just that he’s no competition when it comes to her love for the nun.