Chantal came back to the present, pulled a tissue from her bag and dabbed at her eyes. She glanced over at her father and couldn't help but cry. She raised a hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss.
"Good luck, Papà. I just came to say bye," she whispered.
But she feared it was more than just goodbye:
"Farewell, Dad."
She took a couple of steps away, then turned around and looked back through the glass wall of her father's room:
"I love you. I've always loved you."
CHAPTER 9
Chantal's computer flickered into life.
This was it. Decision time. The job she'd been offered would give her a fresh start. Hopefully, it would be a change for the better.
Could hardly be any worse than the previous year, she told herself.
She manoeuvred her mouse over the mouse mat, clicked on the smiley face and watched as the chat window opened and displayed her most recent messages.
She had no problem finding the right words this time. They came pouring out effortlessly, and she was so sure of herself that she hit 'send' without even bothering to re-read what she'd typed.
06/02/2016
SadChantal 17.43
Hi Alfredo. I've thought about your offer and have decided to accept it. Just let me know when I can start! Have a nice evening.
No sooner had she sent the message, she couldn't wait for her new adventure to begin. She got up and located her cigarettes. If her mother had been there, she'd no doubt have chastised her for restricting herself to tinned tuna and cheap pasta so she could afford to buy fags. On four hundred euros a month, she couldn't have her cake and eat it.
She felt a bit stupid, but she couldn't suppress her desire to smoke.
She lit up and inhaled greedily. As she blew out a cloud of smoke, she chewed nervously at a hangnail on her thumb.
She took another drag and looked around the room, searching for something else to make her forget her current plight.
She looked right, then left, but nothing she saw managed to distract her.
Until she glanced over at the shelf next to the stereo. A photo showed her striking a pose in her swimming costume as she lay on a brilliant-white beach. She could remember the exact moment the snap had been taken.
The exact moment he had taken it.
It was only just over a year ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.
That was the last time she had gone to the beach and smelt the sea air.
She'd forgotten the smell itself,
but she knew it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever smelt.
She smiled as she thought of spending the rest of her life by the seaside. That would be her ideal scenario. By the sea, she felt only joy; no anger or bitterness. By the sea, she felt only calm; no sudden bouts of anxiety.
Whatever the problem, the sea could resolve it. At least that's what she'd thought until that last holiday, the one immortalised in the photo she was now staring at.
They'd decided to go to Mauritius.
As they'd flicked through the holiday brochures, they'd fallen in love with the views, which were seemingly from another world. They'd hoped that the trip would repair the cracks that had started to appear in their relationship after months of fighting. An eight-year relationship.
Eight years of being Chantal and Giulio.
They were so happy in Mauritius: swimming in the sea; walks on the beach; candlelit dinners; sex morning, noon and night. So much sex.
Before jetting off, they'd decided they would make a baby right there in that paradise on earth. They'd certainly tried hard enough, but Chantal had her period when they got back to Italy. They kept trying, but there was no sign of her falling pregnant so they went to see Dr Cresti, a gynaecologist, who referred them for tests.
They waited for ten long days for the results.
There was no problem with Giulio's sperm, but Chantal's ovaries were considerably swelled by cysts, which were preventing fertilisation.
She went under the knife, and the operation was a success, but she still couldn't get pregnant. They subjected her to more tests, which revealed she would not be able to have children. Chantal had cried for a whole week, and just as the tears had finally begun to dry, she'd caught Giulio in bed with another woman.
"It would never have lasted anyway," he'd told her in an attempt to justify his infidelity. "I'd never have stayed with a woman who couldn't give me a child."
His words had cut like a knife. And her scars would never heal.
On the very same day, she'd packed a case and headed back to her childhood home. Not that it felt like her childhood home anymore. First her mamma had died of stomach cancer, and then her grief-stricken papà, Giancarlo, had been forced into rehab after descending into a spiral of drinking.
Chantal snapped out of her daydream and opened her eyes.
The Mauritius photo was still there in front of her.
She stared at the horizon, the fine line between the sky and sea. Between two things that were similar but entirely different.
Sky and sea: identical yet opposite.
Just like the two monosyllabic words that had been going round her head ever since Alfredo had offered her the B&B job.
Yes, no. Yes, no. Yes, no. Yes, no…
Chantal told herself that sooner or later she had to get back on her feet. She'd had a torrid year, but life had to go on.
She took a deep breath and sat back down in front of the PC.
Her heart jumped into her throat. The smiley face. A message.
THE DEPARTURE
La canzone rimasta nel vento
le sorprese che fa il firmamento
ed i primi che mangiano tutto
e gli ultimi pagano tutto quel conto…
(La linea sottile, or The Fine Line - Luciano Ligabue)
CHAPTER 10
Chantal loaded her case into the car and closed the boot
before going back inside to pick out a few last things. She grabbed her pack of Philip Morris from the shelf, chose her best handbag, transferred everything
