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Enrico
I've just arrived in Seattle and became anxious as I glanced at my wristwatch. It had been hours since I received any news about my father, which was extremely concerning given the current circumstances. I got a call from the administrator of the nursing home where my father was staying, and it put me in a delicate situation, prompting me to travel immediately to the United States.
According to the administrator, my father hadn't spoken to anyone for three days. He remained silent, avoiding conversations even with his friends in the facility and refusing to eat. The situation left me uneasy, thinking about the other side of the Atlantic, where my father, already elderly and in fragile health, faced this alarming situation.
I asked Mrs. Sanchez to keep me informed about his behavior and hastily organized my emergency trip to Seattle. I still had no idea what could be happening, causing him to act this way, but I was determined to find out. Despite everything we had been through, I only wished the best for him.
After renting a car at the airport, the first thing I did before turning on the engine was to call Mrs. Sanchez. I needed to know if there had been any improvement since I was flying from London to Seattle. Unfortunately, things remained the same. My father persisted in his hunger strike and silence, something very disconcerting, with no clue as to what motivated him.
However, trying to see the positive side, despite the three days of fasting, he seemed not to have serious health problems, although we were concerned about his dehydration after such a long time without food.
When I arrived at the nursing home, I parked the car and hurried toward the reception entrance. I was promptly greeted, as everyone knew me there, and I was directed to Mrs. Sanchez's office. She had asked to meet me before I visited my father.
"Hello, Mrs. Sanchez," I greeted. "I came as fast as I could."
Violet Sanchez was a woman in her fifties, but quite lively and vibrant, always wearing cheerful clothes and bright colors that perfectly matched her extravagant personality.
"I'm glad you could make it, Mr. Bianchi," she thanked, shaking my hand firmly and securely. "Please, have a seat."
I complied with Mrs. Sanchez's indication, even though I wished to go immediately to see my father and understand what was happening to him.
"What happened, Mrs. Sanchez?"
I ask the question that has been nagging at me since the moment she called.
“I am quite concerned about your father, I must confess, Mr. Bianchi,” she says, leaving me even more apprehensive “As you know, at your father's age, he can't simply refrain from eating and be okay. There are consequences, and I fear they might happen in the next few hours.”
“But I don't understand, Mrs. Sanchez” I insist “I was here just a few days ago, and Joseph seemed to be doing very well.”
The woman sighs, as if she has something difficult to say, but is afraid of my reaction, quite understandable considering I am not the most patient person in the world. Far from it.
“Mr. Bianchi began to appear quite sad since you left, after your last visit” she clarifies.
“That's quite strange, considering my father doesn't care whether I come to see him or not.”
“Well, I would say it's exactly the opposite” She contradicts me “It turns out that after visibly becoming sad about your return to London, the next day he refused to eat or talk to anyone in this house.”
I found the information quite intriguing and would say she was completely mistaken in thinking that way if I hadn't so rushed to see my father.
For this reason, I just nodded to end that unnecessary conversation, considering she had already given me the same information over the phone before I arrived in Seattle.
“I would like to see my father, Mrs. Sanchez,” I say, showing urgency in my words and already standing up in front of her desk in a broad manner.
“All right, Mr. Bianchi” she agrees, standing up “I'll take you to him.”
Instead of taking me to the communal area of the nursing home, Mrs. Sanchez, who today doesn't seem at all like the same cheerful woman I saw every other time I was there, leads me to my father's private room.
That fact alone told me a lot, as at this time, it was still four o'clock in the afternoon, Joseph was usually interacting with his friends, and today I found out he was alone in his room.
Mrs. Sanchez knocked quickly on the wood, and even without hearing any permission to enter, she opened the door and turned on the light switch next to the room's entrance.
“Hello!?” I greeted the man visibly lost in thought, sitting in front of the window, gazing at the distant horizon “Dad?”
Upon hearing the call, Joseph seemed to snap out of his reverie, and I saw a smile, albeit quite shy, form on his time-worn face.
“Enrico?” He said, surprising us greatly “What are you doing here!?”
Despite the question, his tone was genuinely joyful, and I felt a strange emotion take hold of my chest.
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