Roxana

"Tomaso, chiama dei cantanti, delle ragazze e Rodrigo il figlio di puttana. Voglio fargli un'offerta che non può rifiutare./ Tomaso call some bands, some girls and Rodrigo the motherfucker. I want to make him an offer he can't refuse."

Stefano's voice is thundering through the hallway. He speaks much too fast for me to understand anything. I should try harder to learn this language else I am missing the interesting parts. Damn Italian and my lack of time.

I look at Marco and see up close how the smile on his face is vanishing and his expression is getting tense.

"Well, fuck..." He turns to me and brushes a loose hair strand off my face.

"My plan was to stay more but duty is calling. Well screaming..."

"Is he... umm... drunk?"

"And probably high and angry. I have to see to it before unrepairable damage occurs."

Smooth as today's spring breeze he brushes his lips against my forehead.

"Sleep tight, Pebbles. Till next time."

And in a few seconds, he is up and on the way to the door.

"Lock the door and don't exit under any circumstances, ok? I mean it."

I nod and stand up watching him disappear and sigh.

Turning the key into the lock I wonder what happened. It is probably best if I stay out of it but I can't help being curious.

My clothes come off, everything except underwear and the black shirt that I look at smirking.

Laying in bed, I call Kary and Dani again feeling pretty bad for not having done it during the day.

"Hey, Roxi. What's up?"

"Nothing, laying in bed. I wanted to check on you two."

"We are doing great. Had a fun day together. Right, Dani?"

"Listen. I will never be able to repay you for everything you did for us."

"Roxi, we are friends; you are actually my best friend. You were in a horrible situation and I hate it when stuff like this is happening to anyone. Now imagine how it feels seeing this happen to someone I care about. But are you okay? I mean, I know your father died and you are sad but you are never in bed at nine."

"Today I am. I felt a bit sick and I kind of got the day off forcefully."

Kary doesn't need to know how sick and why I was sick, as Dani also didn't need to know how exactly our father died.

"Okay, makes sense. But did Christian actually give you sick leave without complaining a lot? I mean you didn't take a sick day in two years, because yeah you are kind of stupid but also because he is stingy."

And here you have again the Kary that is questioning everything.

"No. Marco made him do it... Somehow."

"Marco? Is Marco the cute guy from the photo?"

"Mhm."

"Hmm. So did you two...?"

"What? No. I think I am friend-zoned but my crush is getting bigger and bigger. Anyway, no time for that. Let me talk to Dani."

"Will do, let me walk over to him. Bye! Kiss, kiss."

"Karyme Zulema bint Mohamad Abadi, I love you. Just making sure that you know that."

"Then never use my full name ever again. Here, talk to the kid. Love you too."

"Hey, Roxi! I had a great day with Kary today. We went to see the new Spiderman movie and the city is so beautiful. I really like it here and I like Kary; she is cool."

"I am happy to hear that. I wish I could be there with both of you. In a month or two I hope to quit this job and go stay with you. Just behave and don't annoy Kary."

"I try. We looked at schools and even found some that focus on musical studies and have English programs. Everything is fine, but I wish Dad was here too."

"I wish that too. I am sorry, Dani. I am really sorry." I can't hold my tears back.

We talk a bit longer and I feel better knowing he is safe and as happy as he can be given the situation.

After our conversation, I lay in the darkness for a while. There are muffled screams outside. What might Stefano be so upset about? I feel bad for Marco. He is most probably quite unpleasant when drunk and angry. He is not really pleasant when sober either.

Soon I fall asleep and wake up when the first sun rays seep through the window. It's just awesome to sleep in a real bed. I shower and get dressed. The pain in my shoulder is less intense and I feel kind of good. What a good night of sleep can do.

Soon after, there is a knock on the door. Tomaso and another gentleman, whom I am presented as Dr. Arturo Conti, step into the room. He seems nice. We chat while he injects the antibiotics and changes the bandage. He doesn't ask where I got the injuries from, nor any other possibly uncomfortable question, but mentions that the scars are likely going to remain.

That is not really surprising since it was Ivan's intention all along. Honestly, it's a small price to pay. I still feel embarrassed when I look at Tomaso. I acted very unprofessional yesterday. He probably couldn't do his job because he had to deal with Bernardo and call me a doctor. This precise a proper apology. I hope he doesn't hate me. 

After all that, I start my usual workday. Damian comes in while I am going through emails.

It would be quite amusing to explain to my brother from another mother what I did yesterday so I keep it short by having taken the day off after all.

He looks at me a bit skeptical but does not question further.

Besides that, the day goes by eventless. Still very tired, I end my work day around nine, shower, and plan to lay in bed learning Italian expressions until I fall asleep. Occhi scuri che ingoiano tutta la luce.../ Dark eyes that swallow all light. Okay, this language might have a certain something after all. 

I pour hot water over instant noodles because I have again very little left for food after paying my debt to Damian, rent and food for Dani, and the flight to Moldova.

Instant noodles are a guilty pleasure of mine though, so I don't really mind.

"Io sono Roxana. Io sono un ingegnere. Ho ventisette anni./ I am Roxana. I am an engineer. I am twenty-seven years old," I am repeating when I hear a knock.

There is no peephole on that door, nor a window close by, so it feels every time like opening a special kind of surprise egg, where big chances are you find crap inside not a toy.

Please don't be Stefano... I am low-key thinking, while opening, not bothering to get dressed in something else than pajamas. If it's him and he indeed bothered to come here, clothes will be the first to come off anyway, so why bother?

"Oh. Hi, Marco." Ok, I have to adjust the percentage of crap in the surprise egg.

"You don't seem delighted to see me. After two shirts? My goodness..." His tone is playful. It looks and sounds good on him.

"Quite the opposite, I am pleasantly surprised. All the other options were worse."

"What were you doing?"

"Practicing Italian and eating instant noodles. Want some? Come in."

He raises an eyebrow skeptically while entering.

"What? Did you never eat instant noodles?"

"Actually no. I ate all kinds of pasta but not these."

To my surprise, he crouches down to sit on the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"The chairs here are terribly uncomfortable. I don't know how Tomaso or you manage to sit on those for so long."

"I don't know about Tomaso but low standards are a practical thing. And that floor was walked on with muddy boots today so you are not doing yourself a favor." At the same time, my eyes wander to his clothes that are different this time, not a suit anymore but dark jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. "No suit today?"

"No, today I have to go to do my type of site work. Hence why I am here, to say goodbye and tell you to behave while I am gone."

"The noodles are ready." I sit down on the floor by his side and hand him a plastic container.

He looks at them suspiciously and pokes around with the fork a few times.

"Relax, they are not poisonous. Instantly at least."

"How is your Italian progressing?"

"Not much. I constantly fall asleep while studying."

I cannot help looking at him in sheer amusement, while he takes a cautious bite.

"So? How is it?" I ask and my voice harbors some expectation.

Meticulously he puts the cup down to the side and leans over in the shadows of the dimly lit room. His lips brush my cheek slightly and I freeze. I feel the goosebumps building up instantly. His lips reach my ear and I shudder a bit.

"Terribile. That's the word for well... terrible in Italian," he whispers in an utmost sensual way that nonetheless makes me laugh. But I press my lips together to not do so and turn my face to brush my cheek against his and whisper in his ear.

"What's the Italian word for snob?"

This time he can't help laughing and neither do I. Our cheeks brush against each other moving with the light chuckles that disturb the silence of the night.

For some seconds we look at each other and it feels like 'that moment' until a sudden gush of pain goes through my still inflamed shoulder, which I am apparently pressing really hard into the kitchen counter.

My damn luck, because he notices and leans back.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just my shoulder."

It feels as if he takes it as a sign to not go further.

"I have to go. Behave till I'm back and I will take you out for coffee and cake."

"And cake? Uuh..."

"Yeah. Am I not generous?"

"Indeed. Where are you going?"

"To America."

"America? Whatcha' doing there?"

"Talk to a business partner."

"Sounds important. Without Stefano?"

"Yes. Look, as an incentive for you to behave, I will bring you a present. So no overworking, take your medicine regularly, and stay out of trouble. I will be back in a few days. Ok?"

"Mkay..." I say smiling and swallowing hard while I look at his features in the dim evening light. I would really like to touch him but I feel suddenly shy.

Ah fuck it, Roxi, you only live once.

I brush his cheek with my fingertips and feel the light black stubble. It's nice.

He turns his face towards my hand and kisses the inside of my palm.

Should be innocent... I guess and still, I perceive it as incredibly sensual.

"I really have to go now. But we will continue where we left off. Okay, Roxi? Ah, the anticipation..." he says laughing and standing up from the floor.

Before he closes the door I manage to say
"Marco, thank you for everything, and take care of yourself, ok?"

"Sure," he answers with a confident smile.

I can't help but wonder if I am still friend-zoned or not. We didn't kiss after all even if it would have been a hell of a moment.

Ah, what am I doing here? I have so much stuff to do and worry about.

The next two days go by eventless. I take the pills the doctor gave me and the infection goes away slowly.

On Saturday I fly to Moldova to cancel my father's rent contract and finish my business in my birth country.

I feel sad and nostalgic. I was happy here most of the time, but also very, very, miserable.

Things go smoother than expected. I pack Dani's things, and a few of my parent's belongings and ship them to Switzerland. After that, I hand the key over and take a walk through the city. It feels odd to be here again. I feel my soul is ancient and the surroundings foreign and still very familiar.

There is the park where I was playing with my mother, the school I went to, and the lawn where my father taught me to ride the bike. It breathes and perspires nostalgia and sadness.

In the end, tired and more depressed than before, I pack their ashes in my backpack and head to the airport.

Weird right? I still haven't decided where to spread them. They didn't tell me; they only said they wanted to be together.

I will ask Dani next week when we will see each other and we can think about it together.

Music is blasting in my ears, but I am lost in thought.  My eyes swipe over the news headlines on one of the airport TVs and I gasp.

"Comisarul șef Alexandru Mareș a fost găsit mort împreună cu soția lui în casa lor din suburbiile Chișinăului. Se vehiculează că este vorba de o crimă pasională urmată de suicid./

Chief Commissioner Alexandru Mareș was found dead together with his wife in their house on the outskirts of Chișinău. It is presumed to have been a passion crime followed by suicide."

Passion crime my ass...