Chapter 9 #2
Within ten minutes, I arrived at his dental office, located in a five-story building.
I made my way to the fourth floor and approached the door that read “Dr. Elio Bernardi.” I pressed the buzzer, and upon hearing the chime, I pushed the door open to enter a small waiting area furnished with four chairs, pale yellow walls, and a brochure stand.
“Hi, Luna! Great to see you,” greeted my dad’s assistant with a warm smile as she came to check who had entered. She looked to be in her thirties, with green eyes and golden hair. Her slender frame matched her soft voice, but her beaming smile revealed perfectly aligned teeth.
“Hi,” I replied, returning her smile. “I'll wait here.” I settled into one of the chairs.
“You can actually wait in his office; Dr. Bernardi is just wrapping up with his last patient,” she suggested. I nodded in agreement.
I followed her through a narrow corridor, the same soft yellow hue lining the walls.
To the left, there was a small room with a dental chair, followed by a bathroom door, and at the end, two more rooms where my dad was working.
I decided not to check on him, afraid to disturb him, and turned right into his office.
Inside, I found a polished reddish wooden desk accompanied by a black leather office chair and two other chairs facing it.
A small window behind the desk offered a view of the public garden below, a pleasant sight from the fourth floor.
The shelves were lined with dental textbooks, denture molds, and various brochures.
Family photos adorned the shelves in black frames, capturing moments from my childhood—one taken when I was about three, others at ages five and thirteen. On his desk was a wedding portrait of my parents. I picked it up, gazing at my mom in her stunning white gown with a long veil, while my
dad looked dapper in a black tuxedo. He was beaming, just as she was, both radiating joy on what was undoubtedly one of the happiest days of their lives.
“Luna.” I startled at the sound of my dad’s voice calling me from the doorway.
A picture frame I had been holding slipped through my fingers and crashed to the ground, shattering into countless pieces.
I sank to my knees, desperately trying to gather the fragments as if I could piece them back together.
“Oh, no, no, no!” I cried, tears streaming down my face as I leaned over the wreckage. My emotions spiraled out of control. Again.
My dad hurried to my side.
“Oh, Luna, it's alright. Don't fret,” he said, trying to soothe me with a gentle rub on my back.
“No, it's not alright! It was there for so many years, and now it's broken!” My voice trembled as my vision became a blur of tears.
“I'll get you a new one. It's really not a big deal,” he replied, his expression a mix of concern and confusion at my reaction.
“But it won't be the same!” I looked into his kind, bewildered eyes, tears cascading down my cheeks. He wrapped his arms around me.
“Shhh, everything will be okay. Whatever you're facing will eventually pass,” he whispered softly, stroking my hair. We sat there on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass that would never be whole again. “Shall we head home?” he suggested softly.
“I'd love to,” I replied as we both stood up to help each other. We gathered our belongings and stepped outside, leaving his assistant to finish tidying up the studio.
“How about I whip up some pasta for us?” he proposed, a smile brightening his face as we approached the house.
“Sounds great, Dad.”
“Oh look, your mom's back!” he exclaimed cheerfully, and a chill ran down my spine at the sight of her car parked in the driveway. My dad was so eager that he leaped from the car and hurried inside. I followed more slowly, unsure of how my emotions might betray me.
“Luna!” she greeted, enveloping me in a warm embrace as I crossed the threshold. I stood still, not returning the hug.
“Hi, Mom,” I managed to say with a slight grin. She quickly retreated to the kitchen, where something was simmering on the stove.
“I've missed you both so much! I'm making cheese ravioli with white sauce and spinach,” she called out from the kitchen.
“Oh, and Marco stopped by about thirty minutes ago. I invited him for dinner too,” she added. I remained silent while Dad headed upstairs to shower. The table was already set, waiting for our meal.
“When did you get back?” I finally asked, moving closer.
“About an hour ago, I think. Why do you ask?” she replied, smiling. I didn't answer; instead, I posed another question.
“When are you leaving again?”
“I have a photoshoot scheduled for tomorrow at the studio here; it was planned months ago, so I'm here for a couple of days.” She paused, glancing at me with concern, as if trying to read my mood.
“Is everything alright? Did you have a rough day?” she asked, concerned.
“Something like that,” I said, circling the kitchen table.
“Here, take the salad and set it on the table. Also, grab some wine from the fridge,” she instructed.
“Sure,” I responded curtly.
I then headed upstairs to drop off my backpack in my room.
I longed for a long, soothing bath, but with only two showers and no tub, that wasn't an option.
There wasn't time now for a shower either; dinner was nearly ready.
I heard Dad coming down the stairs and decided to follow.
I caught him wrapping his arms around my mom from behind, planting a kiss on her cheek that made her smile.
Just then, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Marco standing there, grinning as he pulled me into a hug—no kiss in front of my parents.
“Perfect, everyone's here! Let's sit down and enjoy a lovely meal,” Dad said, motioning for us to take our seats. “I missed you. I texted you, but you never replied, so I came over, and your mom opened the door,” Marco whispered once we were seated.
“Sorry about that. I was with my dad,” I said, glancing at him before shifting my focus to my mom.
“Can we talk later?” he asked.
“Of course,” I smiled at him, resting my hand on his knee.
“Here we go! I made plenty, so help yourselves. Parmesan is right here if you want some on top,” my mom announced, setting a large plate of ravioli in the center of the table.
“It's so lovely to have us all together,” Dad said, his voice filled with genuine happiness.
“So, how's school treating you, kids?” my mom inquired, her eyes darting curiously between Marco and me.
“It's going great, actually,” Marco replied, flashing a smile.
“Have you thought about your next steps? Any universities on your radar?”
“Yes, I have. I'm considering Milan; they offer an excellent biomedical engineering program.”
“That sounds really exciting,” my mom replied, clearly impressed, before redirecting her attention to me.
“And what about you, Luna? Are you planning to head to Rome for fashion design?”
“I've never liked Rome,” I shot back, my tone sharper than intended.
“Really? When was the last time you visited? We should plan a trip to see the university,” she suggested, continuing to enjoy her meal.
I had just been there today and saw you kissing another man a few hours ago.
But I couldn't voice that in front of my dad.
Was it still lying if I kept the truth hidden?
“I was actually considering Milan too,” I replied instead. My mom’s jaw dropped slightly, and her onyx eyes fixed on me. I could tell she disapproved, thinking my choice was swayed by Marco’s decision.
“Well, that's interesting, sweetheart. You should explore all your options. We could even take a family trip to check out some universities if you'd like,” my dad suggested, somewhat taken aback. My mom remained silent, especially because of our guest. I noticed a flicker of hope in Marco’s expression, hinting at the possibility of us being in the same city next year.
“What's wrong with Milan?” I asked, irritation crept into my voice.
“Nothing at all; we just want to ensure you're choosing for the right reasons,” my dad replied, trying to keep his tone gentle. My frustration bubbled beneath the surface.
“It's fine; she still has time to think it over. I'm sure this isn't her final choice,” my mom chimed in, almost dismissively, as if I were just joking.
“Ravioli is fantastic, Mrs. Bernardi. Thank you for dinner,” Marco said, attempting to lighten the mood.
“I've told you, just call me Julia,” my mom smiled back. He nodded in agreement.
“Anyone up for coffee?” my dad asked as he stood. When no one answered, he began making a cup just for himself.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said as I rose from my seat.
“Leave your plates; I'll handle it,” she insisted as I collected both mine and Marco’s.
“I should get going; it's getting late,” Marco said, pausing at the door.
“But you mentioned wanting to talk?” I said, feeling let down.
“We can chat another time.”
“Are you certain? Just five minutes?” I pleaded.
“I promise I'll make it up to you. How about dinner for just the two of us? And maybe a movie if you're nice,” he teased playfully.
“Now we are talking,” I grinned and leaned in to kiss him by the wall, so nobody would see, briefly forgetting my reality.
“Good night! Love you!” he called as he opened the door.
“Me too. Good night!” I replied.
As I stood beneath the scalding shower, I wished I could erase the images that haunted my mind.
Ignorance had been bliss, but now it felt like a heavy chain around my neck.
Was this really what life entailed: a tapestry of secrets, falsehoods, conflicts, and illusions?
A world I once envisioned flickered like a faulty projection, revealing a grim truth I wasn't sure I was ready to face.
Wrapping myself in my bathrobe and returning to my room, I shuffled over to my backpack to swap out the books for the next day. Suddenly, a crimson envelope slipped from among the pages and tumbled to the floor. I crouched down, curiosity piqued.
There were no markings on the outside, yet I could sense something was tucked away inside. I flipped it over and slowly opened it, my breath catching in my throat as a wave of shock washed over me, leaving me momentarily paralyzed.