A cat named Gino

The first thing I see, opening my eyes, are my puppets lined up in nice order on the beech shelves: the teddy bear that slept with me when I was a little girl, the slightly frayed Lenci cloth doll, the stuffed cloth giraffe given to me by a now-dead aunt, Donald Duck sitting with his orange feet stretched forward, a funny stuffed dog with very long ears and his tongue hanging out. I turn my gaze to the next wall: from the old poster of my a dole scenza a very young Johnny Depp gives me a familiar look. I'm sorry, Johnny, right now I'm too depressed to reciprocate.
- Very good, - whispers a voice - right in front of the bed, huh?
I turn around and see him. I feel trembling in the muscles of my face an overwhelming need to smile.
- Emmanuel.
- Antonia.
He leans tenderly over me and gives me a kiss on the forehead. I cannot hide my joy: I am in that mood of dreamy sincerity of someone who feels estranged from the world. I reach out a hand to caress his head:
- You were caught in the rain, I see. But what have you done to your hair?
- I got rid of it. 
- You look good like that too, but why did you do that? Your hair was beautiful. And then these clothes...
- But let's not talk about me. How are you doing?
- Better, but I still feel very weak. I lost a lot of blood.
- You are pale: your eyelids are almost transparent.
- I'm horrible, aren't I?
- You are as beautiful as ever.
He takes my hand and squeezes it.
- I was so afraid.
- Now the worst is over.
- Michele told me everything went well - he adds in an almost questioning tone that hides his anxiety.
I hesitate a few seconds too long.
- What is it? Are you hiding something from me?
I smile at him.
- Don't be a hypochondriac. It's just that maybe I won't be able to have children. 
- Maybe? So it is not safe?
- It is not certain, but unfortunately it is likely. I will have to take hormone treatments, discontinue the pill, undergo several checkups.
- Does my brother know?
- Of course. He is concerned, although he doesn't want to show it. He cares a lot about having children.
- The usual selfish.
- No Emmanuel, don't be unfair: it is a perfectly legitimate desire, we have already talked about it. 
- The only thing he should care about now is that you are alive and well. Nothing else.
- He cares, in fact. And then I'm also very sorry that I can't have children. But let's not think about that now. Can you pass me the robe?
- Here it is. - He hands it to me and helps me put it on. - Your mother made you dinner, the soup must be great: I helped her a little too. 
- Really?
- Really: you know I'm good with vegetables, we peeled a lot of potatoes together. Come on, get up and come to the kitchen and eat.
- I'm not hungry.
- If you don't eat by yourself, I'll feed you.
- I'll eat in the living room, sitting on the sofa: the kitchen chairs are uncomfortable. So we are together alone for a while.
He helps me up and takes me under his arm, accompanying me to the living room.
- How do you like my mom? - I ask him - An insufferable chatterbox, isn't she?
- She is very nice instead. I'll go tell her that you eat in the living room.
He walks away. As I sit on the couch I notice a soot-colored thing rolled up in a basket at my feet. It is love at first sight.
- How wonderful is this kitten! Where does he come from? - I ask Emmanuel on his way back from the kitchen. He smiles.
- I found him on the street, in the rain, and I didn't feel like leaving him there.
- You did well, it's absolutely lovely.
I take him in my hands and kiss him on the nose. Emmanuel caresses him:
- I read somewhere that one's life cat is always met on a rainy day.
- Not only the cat - I let it slip out.
- Do you want to keep him, Antonia?
- I would love to, but I don't know if my mom will agree.
- I think she will be, she likes the kitten. Don't you, ma'am?
My mother is coming with a tray; she lays it on my lap and mumbles that you can't keep animals in the apartment building, however there is the precedent of the parrot of the one on the fifth floor who called all his wife's lovers by name, not to mention the first-floor neighbor who raised a hen on the balcony until it fell off and ended up in the mouth of a passing dog. The truth is that right now she would not have the courage to deny me anything: she got very scared, poor mom.
- Let her eat, huh - she recommends to Emmanuel before returning to the kitchen.
- Trust me, she will eat everything.
Emmanuel sits beside me and watches me eat; at times he feeds me with the seriousness of a conscientious mother. Eventually he picks up the tray and takes it to the kitchen, showing my mother the empty plates with a smile; she thanks him and sets about washing the dishes. Meanwhile, the kitten has fallen asleep and is humming soundly. Everything seems absolutely perfect to me; I feel in heaven.
- Tomorrow I ask my mother to buy a flea preventer suitable for a puppy. 
- Oh no, - he exclaims - I will have a coat pocket full of fleas.
- Have Teresa wash it as soon as you get home.
The TV set in front of the couch broadcasts the usual evening quiz show.
- Come on, let's see who gets the most answers right - Emmanuel says loudly so that my mother hears him.
- Good, - she replies from the kitchen - so you keep yourselves in training.
He turns up the volume to cover our voices.
- You look good, you know? - I whisper to him, looking at his short hair and sober white ribbed sweater. I see he no longer wears his left earlobe earring.
- Yes, I am really better - he confirms, and it is clear that he is not alluding to physical appearance.
- Are you training to become the young career manager your parents always wanted?
- How not.
- The prerequisites are there: a British haircut and sober, elegant clothing. 
- With these assumptions, one cannot help but become a career manager.
- I can already see you looking dapper in a suit and tie, with a freshly shaved beard, chatting with your friends while smoking a cigarette.
- Why not the pipe?
- No, the pipe is not for you. You will be irresistible, your friends will be afraid to introduce you to their wives: they will fall at your feet like flies. I meanwhile will have become a quiet, wrinkle-obsessed upper middle-class lady who takes tea and plays bridge with her friends.
- An exciting prospect.
- I'll sit back with a brat in my arms admiring that handsome young man who sits in front of me and smiles at someone else.
- Are you quoting Sappho?
- Yeah. It seems like a century ago.
- Even more than a century.
- I won't be able to get over the fact that that gorgeous young manager was my funny little boy with the long hair, ripped jeans and sneakers. 
- Won't it bother you to remember what was between us?
- Probably yes, it will bother me a lot. When you lean over me to kiss me good night, I'll have a certain effect of smelling your aftershave and tobacco.
- And won't you be tempted to experiment with what I've learned to do in the meantime?
- That may be so, but I will cherish my respectability, not to mention that I will be full of wrinkles.
- Yeah, it's true: I might not like a lady full of wrinkles. However, I will be a very loving uncle to your children. Between parties, if my schedule allows, I will take you shopping downtown, but only if you are tidy, well-dressed and well made up, because I will be used to being seen around with gorgeous females and I don't want you to make me look bad.
- What's next? Go on, it amuses me.
- Then, as I am driving you home, my car will have a sudden breakdown in the open country.
- Don't talk nonsense.
- You have said so much so far.
I hold back his hand that tries to caress my cheek, turning toward the kitchen: the back of the sofa would not cover his gesture, my mother might see us. 
- Who is winning? - she asks from the kitchen.
- Me, Mom. 
- But only by two points, ma'am: I can still make up for it.
- Good, my daughter is too cocky.
She goes back to washing dishes.
Emmanuel looks at me with an intensity that hurts and lowers his tone of voice:
- I will never do it again, I swear.
- What?
- To hurt you. Never again.
- You never hurt me.
- Oh yes, I did.
I don't have the strength to lie again; I completely forget about my mother and let him caress my face.
- You must promise me one thing, Antonia.
- If I can. What?
- That when you are better you will spend three days alone with me.
- Where?
- Far away from here. By the sea, in the country, in the mountains, wherever.
- By the sea: I love the sea. But you have your high school graduation exam.
- Don't worry, I'm studying. Will you promise me?
- All right, I promise.
He impulsively kisses me on the mouth: I block him just in time.
- Stop, are you crazy?
I turn back to the kitchen: my mother shows no sign of having noticed.
There is a commercial, and the little family from the White Mill has appeared on the screen: they are sitting at a table in the open countryside; the husband, a young businessman in a suit and tie, is making a series of unconscious statements as he gets up to go to work; the children are watching him, understandably wary; the wife is smiling at her heebie-jeebies spouse, passively suffering his kiss, and watching him move away gesturing in the disturbing effects of the shortbread he has soaked in his latte.
Emmanuel looks at me puzzled:
- Seriously you want me to be reduced like this?
I laugh in spite of myself.
He lingers another half hour, then notices that I am a little tired. He gets up, lifts the kitten by the front paws and looks him in the eyes.
- Message received.
- What did he tell you?
- He said his name is Gino.
He lays it in my lap, caresses it once more and goes to greet my mother; she accompanies him to the door. On the threshold she turns to wave to me, smiles with a sweetness that pierces my heart and disappears.
My mother closes the door and waits a few seconds to make sure he has gone away; then she turns and stands looking at me without saying anything.
Embarrassed, I break the silence:
- Good boy, right?
- Yeah, good. Polite. And handsome.
- He is very fond of me.
- Yes, very much. I saw.
I start playing with the kitten to feel a little less uncomfortable, but she doesn't move away and keeps looking at me. At one point she says:
- Antonia.
- Yes, mother?
- Look at my face.
- What?
She stares at me with folded arms.
- May I know what kind of trouble you are getting into?