Past imperfect - страница 13

“Please keep your voice down, signorina! Judging by the ears pricked up around us, we risk triggering the fire alarm tonight," Giuseppe laughed.

“Totally secret, signor!” Lera said in a stage whisper, "So that's it! The ashes of the paper must be thrown into a glass of champagne…"

“Champagne?!” Giuseppe snorted in contempt. "Madonna mia! Drinking this French mockery isn't easy even without ashes!"

“Okay! Let's have prosecco, as long as it’s sparkling”, Lera got her bearings, "So! You need to stir the ashes and drink it all up before the last chime of the clock."

"Will that help?" The man arched an eyebrow doubtfully.

"I don't know," Lera smiled, "I haven't tried it, but that's reason to try, isn't it?"

The waiter brought a paper and pencil and stood by, intrigued as much as his boss. Lera ripped the notebook page into pieces and gave one to Giuseppe, who immediately scribbled something in small handwriting.

Lera took a pencil too and held it over the paper, but suddenly froze in confusion. Nothing coming to mind and the pencil hovering over the page without moving. She painfully tried to imagine what she wanted.

Now, sitting in the restaurant in the Eternal city, drinking wine and having fun, she felt like she had everything. Her favourite job, great apartment, good friends. But what else did she need? Giuseppe's words about a knight's heart touched her mind, but then they disappeared.

And suddenly, white packets of pills floated before her mind's eye. Lera hated the colour white because it reminded her of those damned boxes. They were a symbol of distrust, disbelief, and neglect. They were a symbol of Lera's constant fear. The fear that has not left Lera for twelve years.

For the first time in twelve years, that fear receded as she found herself in Rome. It seemed to Lera that in moving away from everything familiar and close to her, she had run away from her fear, and it was a great feeling. She felt a sense of lightness, confidence, and fun. Did all people feel that way all the time?

For the first time in years, Lera looked around with joy and curiosity, instead of suspiciously searching for who-knows-what. Lera resolutely lowered her pen and wrote in sharp handwriting, almost tearing through the page:

"I want to stop being afraid!"

“What now, mia bella signorina?” Giuseppe asked when they both were finished.

“That's it, signor! We are waiting for the last moments of the year, lighting the fire, drinking. If we don't do this before the clock strikes midnight, nothing will happen!” Lera said, quickly folding the paper in half.

“Then we need to hurry!” Giuseppe laughed.

Lera took out a thermocup from her bag, which had been filled with tea until recently, poured the rest of her spumante into it. After doing this, she grabbed a basket of food and a box of matches from the table and headed towards the exit.

"Happy New Year!" She shouted across the now empty room.

“And to you, Signorina! And you too! Please come again! You are always welcome here!” Giuseppe shouted, waving goodbye to her.

Smiling, Lera pulled on her coat and hurried to the bank of the Tiber. There, at the beautiful Fabricio Bridge, with her back to the Marcellus Theatre and her face to the Basilica of Saint Bartolomeo, she fought through the crowds of people. She wanted to get closer to the river.