looking daggers.
Still silence.
“Considering that we live under the same roof, didn’t it come into your head to discuss the job offer together with me, before giving your word? Don’t you remember that before we started living together we promised each other that we would decide everything by common agreement?” Francesca pressed on, without showing any sign of calming down.
“But can’t you manage to understand my desire for a better life and job? You don’t want to move for your own reasons!”
“I didn’t say that I would have forced you to refuse, for you, I would have accepted this and more! You, instead, didn’t have the courage to confront me, for fear that I might have hampered you in this dream.
It seems to me that it is more important to you than our plan for a life together”
“Instead, to spend the rest of my days with you has always been my greatest desire, but evidently you don’t understand it, otherwise you wouldn’t make these accusations!”
“But do you realise that you’re only putting the blame onto my shoulders? You’re just a coward, I can’t find any other word for it”.
“Well, if you think I'm a coward, then goodbye”, Marco replied, his pride hurt by this unacceptable term.
Having said that, he turned around and marched off into their bedroom upstairs, angrily grabbed his clothes from the wardrobe and put them quickly into a black leather suitcase.
“Don’t be crazy” implored his fiancée, who in the meantime had joined him. “Come on, put your clothes back away and snap out of it.”
“Well, isn’t this what you wanted?” replied Marco, provocatively, going down the stairs.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you know I didn’t mean to chase you away.”
“It’s too late now”, he concluded, turning a final angry glare in the direction of Francesca, who looked impotently as her fiancé angrily put on his overcoat and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone, in tears over the unexpected break-up.
And so, still thinking with incredulity about the quarrel with his ex-partner, Marco drove fast towards the home of his mother, who still did not know of the imminent departure of her son and the end of his relationship with Francesca.
After a few minutes, he arrived at the complex of town houses and parked in front of number 16, where he had lived until a year ago.
Then he got out of the car and opened the gate with his copy of the keys and knocked on the entrance door.
“Who is it?” asked his mother.
“It’s Marco. Did you think a burglar would have knocked on the door to come in?” replied her son, irritated by her far-fetched caution.
Reassured, she opened the door for Marco, who came into the house.
Lucia was a fifty-five-year-old woman of average height and looking well-cared for.
She had died blond hair, always kept perfectly in order, and a pleasantly shaped face, but at the same time lined with evident wrinkles, reflecting the atrocious suffering that had afflicted her over the course of her life, among which there stands out the premature death of her husband, struck down many years earlier by a merciless cancer.
“You look upset. Has something happened?”
He really wasn’t capable of hiding his emotions.
“Yes. Now let me explain everything, without bombarding me with questions” he begged her, fearing that his plea would not be listened to. “I must talk about a very serious matter, and I’m asking you to stay and listen to what I have to say without interrupting. When I’ve finished, you will be free to express your opinion.”
“As you prefer”, she agreed, sitting down on the sofa, waiting for her son to start talking.
“Some months ago, I received from the United States an offer of an unmissable job opportunity and today I told Mr. Russo that I would be leaving soon” Marco declared drily, taking the weight off his shoulders by the disclosure.
Although it was evident that Lucia had received the blow like a stab in the heart, she managed to maintain her usual well-known cslm and objected: “But - what will happen to Francesca? Have you already given her the news?”
“She will no longer be part of my life, that’s all. That’s not a problem.”
“What’s happened between you two?” asked his mother. “If I’m allowed to know, obviously”, she quickly clarified, struck by her son’s hint of irritation.
“When I told her that I had accepted a job in New York and that I would have to move she didn't take it well, because, according to her, I should have waited to check if she was prepared to come with me.
Therefore, she accused me of being a coward, and for that reason I decided to leave her”, replied Marco drily.
“She must have exaggerated using such heavy words, but don’t you think she was right? Effectively, given that you live together, she had good reason to want to be actively involved in such an important decision.
In fact, deciding to leave your own country and the people you love is very difficult, and requires a careful evaluation of all the pros and cons”, Lucia replied wisely, but the look of furious disapproval that Marco gave her persuaded her to stop.
“I, instead, think that the irrepressible Francesca” he accused her with clenched teeth, “she could equally understand that opportunities of that kind arise only once in your life and any hesitation would have run the serious risk of pushing the firm in question to turn to a different candidate, who would have been given the job that I had the good sense to not miss out on.”
Gathering that there was no room for discussion, Lucia opted opportunely to give in, knowing the resolve of her son.
“When do you intend to leave?” she asked in a more agreeable tone.
“As soon as possible. I will share this experience only with my colleagues and my boss, therefore I don’t see any reason to delay my departure”.
Having said that, he put an end to the conversation and went to the bedroom in which he had slept since adolescence, its wall still plastered with posters of Juventus footballers, the team closest to his heart.
For some minutes, sitting at the desk in front of the computer, he was busy searching for a flight that would soon take him to JW Corporation, thousands of miles away.
Finally, he found a flight scheduled for 11.30 the next day, leaving from Milan-Linate airport, and booked an expensive first-class ticket, aware of the increased financial resources he would soon have available.
Then he entered the telephone number of a Milan taxi firm on his smartphone and called them.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, I would like to book a taxi from Castrezzato to Linate.”
“I should advise you that it
