The Neapolitan Novels

26.

As soon as I was back in the neighborhood I rang Lila’s bell. I found her listless, absent, but now it was typical of her and I wasn’t worried. I told her in detail what Nino had said and only at the end did I report that threatening phrase that concerned her. I asked:

“Seriously, can Nadia hurt you?”

She assumed a look of nonchalance.

“You can be hurt only if you love someone. But I don’t love anyone.”

“And Rino?”

“Rino’s gone.”

I immediately thought of Dede and her intentions. I was frightened.

“Where?”

She took a piece of paper from the table, she handed it to me, muttering:

“He wrote so well as a child and now look, he’s illiterate.”

I read the note. Rino, very laboriously, said he was tired of everything, insulted Enzo heavily, announced that he had gone to Bologna to a friend he had met during his military service. Six lines in all. No mention of Dede. My heart was pounding in my chest. That writing, that spelling, that syntax, what did they have to do with my daughter? Even his mother considered him a failed promise, a defeat, perhaps even a prophecy: look what would have happened to Tina if they hadn’t taken her.

“He left by himself?” I asked.

“Who would he have left with?”

I shook my head uncertainly. She read in my eyes the reason for my concern, she smiled:

“You’re afraid he left with Dede?”