Pietro maintained his speed. An estate car moved in front of them and he passed it. He let go of Viola’s hand and grasped the steering wheel. Passed another car and accelerated toward the bridge.
In the house of the pomegranate trees Luca held up the old man’s arm. He massaged it where there was still a bit of flesh. ‘Mr Pietro looks like you.’ The old man’s voice was a death rattle. ‘You must be proud of your father.’
Luca massaged the arm for the last time, a caress, then said, ‘My father died five years ago.’
Ahead the lights of the barriers indicated the location of the broken guard rail. Pietro slowed down and the SUV started across the bridge. At the same moment Luca removed the cap from the syringe and the old man took hold of his own trembling arm. ‘God bless you, Doctor.’ Luca pierced the skin and as he lowered the plunger he stared at the tired father.
Pietro stared at Viola collapsed against the car window. The SUV moved to the left lane. The lights of the barriers came through the fog. There began the bank of the river and there Pietro turned the wheel. The SUV struck the temporary rail and broke through.
The old man died gazing at his son. Pietro with the words of Celeste. The past is in this letter, a past thirty years long. Yes, it’s me, and I’m about to die. I don’t want to take the biggest secret with me.
His name is Luca. He’s our son.
That night in the sea, Pietro. That night a witch once again became a mother and chose silence. That’s how I tried to protect you. The truth is that I was only protecting myself. Forgive me.
Luca is the future we never had, but he is us. He lives with his wife, Viola, and their little girl, on the second floor of a condominium that’s looking for a new concierge. If you want, you could be that concierge. And this is the last thing I leave to chance in my life.
Call the person whose name I’ll write at the end of this letter. He’s a friend and the condominium administrator. I asked him to send you this letter. Take care of Luca. Watch over our son. He’s a boy on the ball.
Pietro, I’ve never stopped feeling like you were with me. Never. I wanted to tell you with this flesh while it lasts. It’s an honest love, and I’ll take it with me where I go. And wherever I am, witch or ballerina, I’ll be ready. First with the heel, then with the toe.