MEET YOU AGAIN, MY MAFIA

THE MISSING WATCH

FIORELLA BIANCHI

Due to the break-in last night, I decided not to go to work, just in case something happens while I am at work. I called in to explain my absence, but I am pretty much sure that I am going to have to explain again to my boss when I return because when I called, she was not happy at all, but I promised to deliver my work via email before the end of the day.

Right now, I am looking around for anything that might look suspicious. I feel like the police did not search my place enough last night. The search for the culprit is still on, but that does not mean it won’t happen again. It can happen to anyone, and now every single mother living with only their little kids around here is worried sick about their safety. This new landlord must do something about it.

I notice that something is missing from my watchbox. A watch that values so much to me is gone.

“Massimo, come here, please!” I call him into my bedroom from the lounge.

“Sì, mama,” He responds. My Italian son. Benjamin was born here in Italy, but he moved to Germany at age eleven when his mother got married to his German father.

When he comes in, I sit him down on the bed and hold his hand.

“Simo, can you tell mommy if you have seen daddy’s watch?” I still keep Benjamin’s watch for my son to have it one day when he grows up. It was Benjamin’s first expensive watch he ever bought. I am sure he would have loved it if our son had it someday.

I tell my son everything about his father. I even showed him his photos sometimes and make up a sweet fairy tale story for him about how his father went to heaven. I do not think that any child would want to hear how horribly their parents died, but I know that one day when Massimo is older, he will want to know the truth about how his father went to heaven.

“Mommy, the bad man took it,” He starts crying, looking down.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. But you have to tell mommy what he did so that the police can find him and lock him away. Did he touch you?”

He shakes his head.

“Did you see his face?”

“No. He showed me a knife and told me to be quiet, but I screamed because I was scared,”

“You did well, my baby. I am so sorry, okay,” I put him on my lap and lay his head against my chest.

A knock comes through, and I lay him on the bed and tell him to stay in the room until I come back.

I get to the door and slowly open it before peeping with my head. The shoes get my attention first because they look so formal and expensive. These are the men’s shoes, and what would a man with expensive Florsheim’s be doing on my doorstep?

The wind blows with his cologne, lingering in my nose as I raise my head and meet the man’s eyes. I gasp in shock, and he does the same as if he did not expect to see me, but he quickly recovered.

I feel my heart beating so fast, my palms sweating, and I feel uneasy not knowing what to do.

“Ciao,” He says, with a smile.

Unable to mutter a word, I open the door wider and clear my throat.

“Hi, uh… what brings you here? How did you know that I live here?”

He chortles, shaking his head.

“May I come in, signorina?”

I want to say no because he is a stranger and, after last night’s incident, I don’t trust anyone, but here am I, welcoming him into my private space. What if he followed me last night and was probably the one who broke into my apartment?

“What brings you here, signore?” I ask, beckoning him to sit on the couch.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ms. I did not know that you owned this apartment, and secondly, the security gave me your address because apparently someone broke into your apartment last night. I am actually here about that matter, so that is what's bringing me here,”

I swallow a little harder, feeling embarrassed. This is the man that helped me with my car yesterday, and now he is here again to ask about the break-in. Why is he always at my rescue?

“Oh, but how does that involve you here?” I mean, the police are already handling it, and the new landlord should be coming to make sure that my apartment is okay, and I am okay, not him.

“So, you’ve never attended the meetings that have been happening here lately?” He asks.

“Unfortunately not, signore. I have been so caught up with some personal matters, but my sister has been attending. Do you perhaps also live in one of the apartments?”

“So, you do not know who I am, ma'am?” He tilts his head, furrowing his brows.

I look at him in confusion, shaking my head.

“I don’t understand.” I take a seat next to him, but not too close. “What do you mean; am I supposed to know you? Are you somewhat an important person I should be concerned about?”

“Fair question. My name is Gabriele Ferrari, the new landlord,” He stretches his hand for a handshake. I bite my lower lip, feeling a little ashamed, and I look down at my feet.

AWKWARD!

“Ooh, so you are the guy that got my married sister sleepless at night, huh?” I pull my lip between my teeth, covering the awkwardness. He laughs, and again, his laugh just keeps poking the spark I thought I had buried years ago, and it just feels so good it makes me want to cry, but I won’t. There is something about this man that makes me want to invite him inside and have some wine with him.

“Is that so, signorina?”

I shrug.

“What can I say, you charmed her,”

“And what do you think; do I charm you?” He grins. Realising that my hand is still in his, I quickly retract it, clearing my throat.

“Signore, I am sorry, but you did not strike me as our new landlord. I guess I must be used to our old man here,”

“I guess so. Uhm, I am actually here to ask about the damages from the break-in last. Also, I want to let you know that I have hired professional guards and they will work in pairs. Every floor will be positioned with two of them and they will take shifts between night and day, but that is something we will talk about in our next meeting which I hope you will be able to attend this time,”

“Uhm, there are eight blocks, and each building has five floors. From my calculations, you have hired one hundred and sixty guards because eighty of them would be working throughout the day while the other eighty are coming at night. Won’t that affect our bill here? To be honest with you, sir, and not to be rude, I cannot afford to pay more than what I am already paying here,”

“Don’t worry about that, signora. We will talk about it in our next meeting,” He goes quiet and his eyes land on my coffee table. He grabs the estate agent magazine, reads with his eyes, and then looks at me.

Gosh, I did not even offer him a seat.

“Searching for a house?” He asks.

“Uhm,” I shyly look away.

“Don’t be shy; it is a good thing to settle sometimes, and you don’t have to feel bad about it. I totally understand, but you do know that you will have to give me a three months notice before you move out, right?”

“Yes, I understand that. Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?” I ask, turning on my heels to the kitchen, but I stop on my track when he speaks.

“Actually, I am on my way out now, but I would like some bottled water if you have any. I am so thirsty,"

Luckily, I do have bottled water in my fridge. I buy them mostly for my son to carry to school.

“Coming right up,” I rush to the kitchen and come back with the water.

“Grazie signora,” (Thank you,) Upon taking the water, his hand brushes against my skin, sending shivers all over my body.

“Before you leave, sir, my window needs to be repaired and I think we need burglar proofs installed on our windows and doors because it was so simple for someone to remove my window to come in to steal my watch,”

“They stole too?”

“Yes. A brown leather Fossil Men’s watch,”

“I am so sorry about that. I will look into it, I promise,”

I nod.

“Mommy!” Oh, my son! I quickly run to my bedroom, leaving Gabriele standing in the lounge.

“Yes, Simo, what is it? Are you okay?” I look around the room to see if anyone has come in or what.

“Food, mommy,”

Oh, God. I am being paranoid. I exhale in relief and nod my head.

“Okay, my pumpkin. Let’s go,” I carry him out of the room, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck.

I find Gabriele waiting at the door.

“I’m sorry about that,” I apologise, opening the door for him.

“It’s okay. Your son?”

“Yes,” I proudly smile, kissing Massimo on his head. He probably won’t raise his head up because of what happened yesterday. “He is still shaken by what happened last night. His scream for me is what alerted me about the intruder, so I have been jumpy every time he called,"

“Understandable, and I am sorry about that. We will find the intruder, I promise,”

“Thank you.”

He stared at me for a while, making it uncomfortable for me to keep up with his gaze, so I looked down.

“Thanks for your time. See you, signorina,”

“Thank you. Goodbye, signore.”

Just a few seconds after he leaves my house, Violeta crashes in like someone was chasing her, almost frightening me.

“Cazzo, Violeta!” (f**k, Violeta!) I Scream at her, forgetting about my son, which I hope he did not hear or understand what "cazzo" means.

“Language, Fiorella!” She shouts.

“Massimo is still traumatised by last night’s events, you should be more careful about how you get in here,” I reprimand her, placing Massimo on top of the kitchen counter.

“Oh, yeah, I apologise about that, but I want to ask you why you didn’t call me when the handsome landlord came! I bumped into him right now, but he was too busy to even notice me,” She rolls her eyes.

“Maybe it is because he does not know that you even exist, plus you are married, remember? But it is my turn now to ask why you didn’t tell me that he is the man who helped me with my car yesterday?” I squeal.

“What? How was I even supposed to know he was the one because I was not even there!? You did not even know his name. Anyway, did he ask you out?” She asks, wiggling her brows.

“What for… no! He came here to check on our wellbeing, that’s it,”

“If you say so. What are you making?”

“Fries and Fish fingers for Simo. Would you like some?”

“Yes, of course,”

I shake my head, not surprised at all. After lunch, I am going to need to get back and finish my work while Violeta is still here to look after Massimo.

***

It is now night, and the police officers are back on watching over my apartment. I also told them about the missing watch, and they promised to let the detective know about it. I sent them pictures of the watch and its details. I really hope that they find it because it hurts me that I lost it.

Massimo is peacefully sleeping on my bed, so I pull out a box from my ottoman and walk out quietly to the kitchen, and I place the box on the kitchen counter before I sit on the barstool. I already have a glass of wine set on the counter to keep busy.

I open the box, taking out a photo album of Benjamin and Jasmine. I no longer consider myself Jasmine. Jasmine Roche died with Benjamin; I am now Fiorella Bianchi.

I open the album and the first page is written in bold Italic fonts: TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN, MY LOVE. I page through the album, looking at every picture in it.

“I miss you so much, Ben. I am trying so hard to be strong for our son, it’s just so hard. With everyone around me, I still feel alone and lost in a foreign country without you. We have a son, but I am sure you already know that because I tell you about him all the time. He is turning four in about two months. He grew up too fast, didn’t he, and it is the more he looks like you. When I look into his green eyes, all I see is you. I wish you were still here, but I know that you are in a better place. Til’ we meet again, my love.” I close the album, drinking my wine with my tears falling down.

I cannot help but think about Benjamin's mother. That woman was so sweet. I wonder if she got the closure because I am struggling to find peace. I really miss Benjamin, and it is so hard to go a day without crying to put myself to sleep because I still long for him.