Page 62 of Just for a Taste

I was led by Signora Rafia to Signore Urbino, to Signora Carbone, to Lucia, and finally, Doctor Ntumba in the clinic. She sat me down squarely, already prepared with her wound-care supplies.

Zeno had been mostly incorrect in his assessment of my wound. It was a thin yet deceptively deep cut from the right corner of my mouth to the middle of my chin. I had landed on a chipped piece of tile, which had unfortunately shattered and lodged into the muscle of my chin, but fortunately not into the bone. After a lidocaine shot and quick extraction of the pieces, Doctor Ntumba informed me the rest would be easy.

“How did you know I got hurt?” I asked as she flushed the laceration on my chin with saline.

Doctor Ntumba did not look up from what she was doing and moved on to washing the skin around the cut. “Zeno told me,” she answered curtly. “He said that the night went poorly, and you fell and hit the ground.” She leaned back and tilted my head to the side. “Hmm. We’ll try some butterfly bandages. It will likely still scar.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” I said to her back as she dug the bandages out of her bag.

Doctor Ntumba returned and pinched my jaw between her fingers. “Hold still.”

“But—”

“Stay still and I’ll tell you.”

I did as she said, but it was difficult to steady myself when I was shaking so much. A few minutes and two butterfly bandages later, however, she was successful.

“Now,” Doctor Ntumba finally said, taking off her gloves, “I can tell you what I know.”

I folded my hands in my lap and nodded eagerly, urging her to continue.

“Zeno did not tell me very much, truthfully. He stated you were injured and that I should expect you in a number of hours, but that he would not return until Monday.”

“Where is he? And what will he be doing for two days?”

Doctor Ntumba sighed and slumped ever so slightly. “That, I do not know. I could likely track down his precise location with ease, as I’m sure he is aware. He is still nearby, I assume. Doing what, however, is a mystery I do not wish to know the answer to.”

She quickly gathered up the remnants of the kit, then extended the step from the base of the exam table, a clear signal it was time for me to leave.

I tightened my jaw so much that the pain broke through the steadily decreasing numbness. “What am I supposed to do, then? Just sit around and wait for him to explain what the hell is going on?”

With the kit fully packed up, Doctor Ntumba tossed it over her shoulder and started for the exit. “It’s late, Cora. Get some sleep for tonight,” she replied somberly, hand on the doorknob.

She gave me a small smile and shut the door softly. I remained in that room for a long time, and for once the chill felt comfortable.

∞∞∞

When I staggered to the dining hall the following evening, I wondered if I would find breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I quickly discovered my meal to be a hybrid of the former two. My stomach gurgled at the sight, and with nobody around, I was free to scarf it down. Nobody met me for my bath.

Nobody but Lucia spoke to me at all.

Signora Carbone worked twice as fast as usual and busied herself with cleaning every inch of the house. Signore Urbino became utterly infatuated with specks of dirt on the wall or took far too long with a basic task whenever I entered the room and was constantly off doing “duties.” Doctor Ntumba didn’t show up for tea and had seemingly disappeared from the abbey. Lucia attempted to converse with me as usual, but any time she thought I couldn’t see, she would gaze at me sadly from a distance. Even Leonore treated me differently, her coos ever so slightly somber, her movements more delicate.

That night, I heard the low voices of Zeno and Doctor Ntumba coming from his room, intense and snipped and far too soft to decipher. But I never heard music.

Chapter 31: Nel cor più non mi sento

Years of practicing compartmentalization had come in handy, it seemed. I could dismiss that entire night as some distant nightmare. But with each passing hour, once-fleeting thoughts finally amalgamated in my stream of consciousness.

What’s going on? Why won’t anyone talk to me like before? Why haven’t I seen Zeno? Does he hate me now? Will he leave the abbey? Will they kick me out?

Midway through the second day, it became clear distraction was my only option.

It was strange to see the hill during the day. The way the afternoon sun peeked through the leaves and cast askew shadows made it almost an entirely different landscape. I chuckled as I first emerged into the clearing. Only in this strange country would flowers be in full bloom in late November, and only in this strange country would I reminisce on rainy days in London.

After trying and failing to find a patch of plantless dirt, I patted down the yellow sea of fennel and set my blanket down.

After plopping down, I laughed for the second time in a while—with the grass up to my nose, it was impossible to see the pond I had gone all this way to sketch. I tossed my sketchpad aside and stretched out onto the blanket. If I couldn’t draw, I could at least soak in the sun.

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