“I promise. Now get over here with that candy.”
Mario and Franco gradually approached Luca’s bed. Mario dumped out the candy, and each boy grabbed the things he liked best. Luca asked about their gym teacher—was she still bending over so everyone could see her boobs? Was Bernardo still being mean to them in the schoolyard? What movies were playing at the Nazionale in Rondello? Nonna promised to take him when he got better, and they could come too. Had they been to the Castle and heard from Orlando? Did he have any new missions for them?
They were talking and stuffing their mouths with candy when Nurse Vocelli entered the room. As soon as they saw her, Mario and Franco jumped off the bed and backed up against the curtain.
“Don’t worry, ragazzi, I don’t bite, provided I can have one of those gummy bears,” she said, winking at Luca. “I’m going to have to steal your friend for a while so he can get his treatment. He won’t be too long.”
As the nurse led Luca out, Franco kept nodding in the direction of the container of witch’s brew on the bed, trying to get Luca’s attention. Now that he saw the purple mark on her face for himself, Franco was more convinced than ever that the nurse was evil, even if she’d fooled Luca into trusting her. She needed to be eliminated before she made all their hair fall out.
“They’re afraid of you,” said Luca as they arrived at the infusion center on the second floor, a small room with four reclining chairs and a TV on the wall.
“They’d better be,” Nurse Vocelli said, baring her teeth.
Luca laughed.
“But because they’re your friends”—she patted him on the shoulder—“I promise to show mercy.”
One of the nurses waved them over to a chair by the window where she’d already set up Luca’s treatment bag. “Have a seat here, young man,” she said.
Luca shook his head no. He had nothing against the nurse—in fact, she had a kind, old face that reminded him of his grandmother—but ever since they’d become friends, Nurse Vocelli was the only person he trusted.
“I’ll take care of this,” Nina said to the nurse. “Lie down and put your arm on the sidebar, Signore Taviano,” she told Luca with a smile. Nina rolled up his sleeve and placed a light tourniquet above his elbow. She patted the skin on his hand and, as gently as possible, slid the needle through the skin and into the vein. “How’s that?”
“Didn’t feel a thing,” he said nonchalantly, looking at the TV on the wall. The news was on, broadcasting the latest from Sicily. The police had made several arrests in the Falcone case. All were tied to organized crime. There was hope that the head of the Sicilian Mafia, Totò Riina, would soon be brought to justice.
“Do you know anything about this?” asked Nina.
Luca felt a tingling under his skin as Nina turned on the IV and yellowish fluid started flowing through the tubing into his arm. Not pain exactly, but it didn’t feel good either. He tried focusing on the TV, the photo of the elusive mafioso boss, a short, stocky man with a square face and beady eyes. “He looks pretty scary.”
“He’s a bad man,” agreed Nina. “He killed two very brave judges, and I hope he pays for it. I’m sure your friend Orlando would agree.”
Luca nodded. “Orlando always punishes bad people. Like Bernardo, the bully at school who picks on the smaller kids. Orlando made him trip one day in gym while he was showing off in front of the girls. Served him right.”
“Is that so?” Dr. Crespi entered the room with a wide smile on his face. His white coat was newly pressed, his hair slicked back, tie perfectly done. “Buongiorno, ragazzo. How is my favorite patient doing?”
Luca gave him the thumbs-up sign.
“Glad to hear. This is the strong stuff you’re getting today, isn’t that right, Nurse Vocelli?”
Nina adjusted the IV, pretending she didn’t hear him.
“You remember what I told you about this medicine?” Though he was talking to Luca, Crespi kept looking over at Nina.
“Yeah, I remember. It kills the bad blood cells, which are bad because they grow too fast and make it difficult for the other cells to do their jobs. That’s why I was getting the fever and bruising. But the medicine can also kill the good cells in my body and make me feel sick, especially my stomach.”
“That’s exactly right.” Crespi applauded him. “Our patient is a smart one, don’t you agree, Nurse Vocelli?”
Luca smelled a strong, lemony scent in the air. It seemed to be coming from Dr. Crespi. “Are you wearing perfume?” he asked the doctor. The smell reminded him of Nonna when they went out to eat at a restaurant.
“Men don’t wear perfume, Luca, they wear cologne. They wear it to impress the girls.” He winked. “I’ll bring you some the next time I come.”
The minute Crespi left, Nina stopped fidgeting with the IV pole and sat down next to Luca. He could tell she was relieved. He smiled naughtily, then tapped the side of his nose with his finger.
“You’re very funny, you know that?”
“Dr. Crespi is too, and he doesn’t even try.”
Nina laughed. “He’s right about you being one smart kid, though,” she said, patting him on the back. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” he answered, though he was starting to feel queasy. The first time he had the treatment, he felt so sick he vomited. Nonna had been with him and gotten scared. She tried to pretend otherwise, but Luca knew better. He hated seeing Nonna so upset and vowed that the next time, he’d be stronger.
“I’m fine,” he repeated. “Tell Nonna it was much better today.”
10
As May turned into June and June into July, what used to be Matteo Crespi’s favorite time of the year—when he would ride his bike through the countryside, drive with the top of his convertible down, take his coffee outside at the café in the central piazza—was becoming an uphill slog. Until now, Matteo had sailed through life with neither hitch nor adversity. He was an only child to upper-middle-class parents from Turin, and his mother and father had doted on him. He’d been handsome and athletic and well liked since grade school, a good student at university who graduated with high honors from medical school. Although Santa Cristina was a small, rural hospital, he was the chairman of his department.
Lately, though, it seemed his luck had changed for the worse. Maria had been a thoughtful, beautiful girl when they first met, with deep-black eyes that he’d wanted to dive into and never resurface from. But over the years, his wife had transformed into a cold, self-absorbed prima donna he hardly recognized. Nothing was good enough—the backwater town they lived in, the too-small house, the vacations that doubled as medical conferences. He was not good enough.
Matteo never imagined falling for a woman with a port-wine stain. Yet Nina’s birthmark intrigued him, the way its color shifted with her mood and pulsed with life, hiding the right side of her face, her gently sloping nose and full, rounded lips. He’d come to think of the mark as a mask that she allowed only him, and no one else, to peer beneath—a secret of sorts, their secret. Nina was young, fun, and passionate; he could do things with her that he could never do with his wife. Only now, after he’d caved in to the chief’s demands without a fight and then rushed off that foolish letter, Nina no longer seemed to notice him, no matter what he did to get her attention.