A Familiar Fragrance
Enrico
Seeing with my own eyes the worrying state of my father, I could confirm that Mrs. Sanchez wasn't exaggerating when she called to tell me that my father was on a hunger strike. It was very evident to anyone how debilitated and weak he was.
“What's happening, Dad?” was my first question to the man in front of me.
The director of the nursing home had left the room, leaving us alone, and I pulled up a chair, placing it next to him where he was now seated.
"Why are you here, Enrico?" He didn't respond to my question. "Shouldn't you be driving some Formula One car? Doing what is the most important thing in your life?"
The man I was accustomed to and had always been around was back, and the gleam I had identified in his eyes upon seeing me had vanished, replaced by the ironic look that always accompanied him, at least when he was in my presence.
"I chose to take a flight and come here," I said honestly. "I needed to know what happened, why you haven't been eating or talking for days."
"That old gossipmonger," he said, showing dissatisfaction with the information. "Shouldn't have gone spreading rumors about me."
"She wasn't gossiping, Dad," I tried to maintain patience. "Mrs. Sanchez was concerned about you. Why don't you want to eat?"
That question remained unanswered, and my father continued his complaints about Mrs. Sanchez and those he labeled as "accomplice gossip," while I listened in silence, trying to understand what was happening without him giving me any clues.
Unable to comprehend what was going on, I took advantage of my father's presence and tried to get him to eat something. However, when they brought the food I ordered, he only played with it on the plate and didn't eat. Nothing I said made him change his mind. I became even more worried when I heard what the director had personally told me when I arrived in her office.
"I'm tired," my father said, and I quickly understood that he wanted to rest.
"I'll help you lie down," I offered, even though I knew he wanted to be alone.
In reality, he was weak from not having eaten anything in the past few days, but I had already talked to him several times and it didn't help, so I decided I needed to be patient with him.
"I don't need help," he refused, as I imagined he would. "I just need to be alone."
Even resisting his request, I ended up feeling undecided about what action to take. I eventually agreed, though not very enthusiastically. After a brief farewell, I left Joseph's room, almost pushed out.
Once outside the nursing home, I got into the rented car and sat there for a few minutes, contemplating what to do in this complicated situation. My father's health was at stake, but I didn't want to force him to do something against his will. On the other hand, I couldn't simply stand by and watch his deterioration, even if it seemed to be what he wanted.
As I pondered, my phone began to ring insistently. However, at that moment, I didn't feel capable of talking to anyone. I ignored the call without even checking who was calling. I let my head hang over the steering wheel and thought about the irony of the situation. After all, I shouldn't care so much about someone who had always brought me down throughout his life, but against my will, I did.
"Enrico Bianchi?" a female voice sounded near me.
I sighed resignedly. For a moment, I considered pretending to be asleep and not answering at that inconvenient moment. However, I realized I couldn't do that. I raised my face and faced a former schoolmate with whom I had shared many years of study and a close friendship. After all, she lived on the same street where my father resided.
"Hannah Beckett?" I questioned, still somewhat incredulous, seeking confirmation if she was the person I thought.
"Yes, it's me!" she confirmed, smiling.
With the confirmation, I felt it was my duty to get out of the car and greet her with a warm hug, recalling the strong bonds of friendship we had when we were just teenagers.
"What brings you here? I thought you were a famous Formula One driver," she joked.
I explained to Hannah the reason for my presence in that place, and she shared with me that her grandmother had also moved to the nursing home and was now living there, having moved in the day before.
We ended up making plans to meet for dinner that night and catch up. Given that she hadn't lived in Seattle for years, having moved to Houston, she was staying at a hotel downtown.
When the appointed time came, I went to the hotel lobby to meet Hannah. While I was at the reception desk, I was surprised by a familiar fragrance, but I didn't even need to look back, as I was sure that the owner of that perfume wasn't in Seattle.
There was no need to go to Hannah's room, as she was soon by my side, smiling and visibly happy to see me.
"We can go, Enrico," she said, pointing to the exit of the small but cozy hotel lobby.
I cast a glance at the discreet and elegant dress Hannah was wearing. Once again, I remembered how a certain girl, in the same situation, would have chosen an outfit opposite to that of my childhood friend. However, I immediately dismissed any thoughts related to the cold and calculating woman who didn't deserve even a space in my mind.
"Sure," I agreed, indicating that she should go ahead.
We walked out of the hotel together, enveloped in an atmosphere of nostalgia and anticipation. When we arrived at our destination, a small café by the side of the road, we chose a table outside, enjoying the gentle evening breeze. The cozy, relaxed atmosphere created the perfect setting for reminiscing about old times.
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