The Neapolitan Novels

26.

Lila was lying on a cot, fully dressed. Gennaro was sleeping next to her. Come in, she said, I knew you’d come, give me a kiss. I kissed her on the cheeks, I sat on the empty bed that must be her son’s. How much time had passed since I’d last seen her? I found her even thinner, even paler, her eyes were red, the sides of her nose were cracked, her long hands were scarred by cuts. She continued almost without a pause, in a low voice so as not to wake the baby: I saw you in the newspapers, how well you look, your hair is lovely, I know everything about you, I know you’re getting married, he’s a professor, good for you, you’re going to live in Florence, I’m sorry I made you come at this hour, my mind’s no help to me, it’s coming unglued like wallpaper, luckily you’re here.

“What’s happening?” I asked, and moved to caress her hand.

That question, that gesture were enough. She opened her eyes wide, clenched her hand, abruptly pulled it away.

“I’m not well,” she said, “but wait, don’t be scared, I’ll calm down now.”

She became calm. She said softly, enunciating the words:

“I’ve disturbed you, Lenù, because you have to make me a promise, you’re the only person I trust: if something happens to me, if I end up in the hospital, if they take me to the insane asylum, if they can’t find me anymore, you have to take Gennaro, you have to keep him with you, bring him up in your house. Enzo is good, he’s smart, I trust him, but he can’t give the child the things you can.”

“Why are you talking like that? What’s wrong? If you don’t explain I can’t understand.”

“First promise.”

“All right.”

She became agitated again, alarming me.

“No, you mustn’t say all right; you must say here, now, that you’ll take the child. And if you need money, find Nino, tell him he has to help you. But promise: I will bring up the child.”

I looked at her uncertainly. But I promised. I promised and I sat and listened to her all night long.