Читать книгу Clouds Of Smoke… The Story - Gianluigi Ciaramellari - Страница 16

The new electronic cigarette’s battery was still hot, when Sonia put it down on the nightstand next to her bed. She was glad to have been able to smoke, oops!... “Vape” as Damien said, even in her room, without filling the air with that disgusting scent of tar.

She had inhaled a good dose of nicotine for that Saturday night, following a tasty pizza she had delivered to her home, which she had eaten in the company of her favourite TV show: Columbo.

Once she turned off the TV, she checked her bookmark, which indicated that she had another twenty pages to finish the novel she was reading; She shook her head undecidedly, trying to choose between reading or sleeping, took another look at the electronic cigarette, thinking that she could still vape while reading, without having to worry about shaking the ash or not falling asleep with a lit cigarette. Finally she gave up and decided that it would be better to turn off the light, close her eyes and let herself fall sleep without the anxiety of the ringing of the alarm clock. The next day was Sunday; she had already planned a bike ride with Giorgio, her boyfriend.

For almost a year now, Sonia lived alone in a two-roomed apartment that her parents had bought her with the savings of a lifetime, even though that meant they would be separated from their only daughter, who had chosen to live in the city of Florence, which she preferred to Turin, where she was born and raised. She got out of the bed and, as she did every night, she walked through the sixty square meters of her apartment. Every single night, she had to make sure that she had closed the front door, leaving the key in the door, half in and half out, as she had read in a police warning.

She then proceeded to control the windows and the shutters, and finally, with the adrenaline of a scared child who has to cross a dark hallway, she always checked the closet, which required opening the built-in wardrobes to see if anyone was hiding inside it, waiting to jump out in the middle night to attack her as she slept.

She never stopped to wonder, however, what she would do, if she had ever really found someone in the closet.

After carrying out her ritual control, she locked herself in her room. She climbed back into bed and turned off the bedside lamp.

She never fully shut her bedroom window shutter. Sonia always left a few gaps through which the light of the street lamps could pass through. Living on the second floor of an apartment building, the light coming through was enough to reassure her. She didn’t like to sleep in complete darkness.

From the upstairs apartment, or from the one below, came voices and music that she had never heard before. Maybe someone was throwing a party. After all it was Saturday night, some preferred to read a good book in peace and others chose to celebrate in their home, inviting their friends. All in all, that noise in the background kept her company and she fell asleep, feeling a little less lonely.

Before she closed her eyes, she saw streaks of light cast from the open gaps of the shutter, shining on the medical records that she had left open on the dresser opposite the bed. The headlights of a car bounced their light onto the windowpanes, (she never quite understood this phenomenon), and the play of reflections it created was sometimes curious, sometimes entertaining. This time, it was ghastly...

She turned the lamp back on, got out of bed and closed the folders, went back to bed and, when she saw the electronic cigarette on the nightstand, she remembered that she had to put it in charge by connecting the battery to its appropriate charger, as Damien had taught her.

Again she turned off her bedside lamp, the LED of the battery charger flashed three times in a bluish colour, then became solid red. To Sonia it seemed like a greeting: “bye, bye, see you tomorrow!”

And goodnight.

The air had cooled, the woollen blanket that the nurse had tucked in tightly under the mattress, was not warm enough. The door opened onto the hallway of the oncology department, in addition to the cold light of neon, let in the voices of the nurses who were joking with each other.

Sonia wished one of them would come into her room, so she could ask for another blanket. Furthermore, a sudden severe chest pain forced her to pull herself up, but she had to be careful not to pull out the needles of the drips in both her arms.

She leaning back on the two pillows behind her, and tried to take some deep breaths, slowly, to see if the pain would subside.

A shadow cast over her bed, it was that of a tall, strong man, wearing a lab coat. He stood in the threshold of the door with the light behind him, and she could not see his face.

She strained to call him, trying to guess his role:

“Doctor?”

She found she had a weak voice, almost feeble, her mouth was dry, her lips glued.

The dark silhouette of the man didn’t move. He looked like a mannequin.

“Doctor?”

A cough and a muscle spasm in her chest made Sonia blink her eyes and the menacing figure disappeared.

But then she felt a hand touching her face and she saw the same man near her, who, after stroking her cheek, began to adjust the flow of the IV.

“Don’t worry, Sonia. - Said the doctor or nurse, whoever he was - It's all right, it's all under control.”

The voice was fatherly and reassuring. His touch was light and gentle. She felt the warmth of that touch on her face and it cheered her up. The man gently helped her lie down again, arranged the pillows behind her head and when he bent down to wet her lips with a damp cloth, she saw his eyes.

A lightning followed by thunder and in that light his eyes were those of a cat in the dark.

Sonia woke up. She was in her room, she recognized it from the light coming in through the window shutters.

The electronic cigarette LED was green.

“Hi, I'm ready!”