TE22 Potpourri

Antonella Lattanzi

This Looming Day

stared blankly at her mother, father and her newborn baby sister. Since then, she had become the General to Francesca and Massimo. She never wanted to see The Aristocats again. “It’s an old cartoon, Mom,” she decided sententiously, crossing her arms over her belly.

Francesca looked closer and noticed that there were no curtains in any of the windows. You could look into all of those apartments. From a distance they looked neat, perfect, with people moving inside like virtual models of a fine architect’s project. Francesca shifted her eyes from the buildings. Only then did she notice that the courtyard was teeming with children. Only then did she hear the playful shrieks, the laughter, the scuffling of footsteps and running. A beautiful feeling came over her. In the background, under the last pair of buildings, the youngest kids swarmed around a red and yellow plastic slide and a red swing. Farther down, at the edge of the courtyard, a brand new lemon-yellow hut. All those colors were a harbinger of spring shining under a sun that could have been summer. “Hey. Can you help me?” Massimo shook Francesca gently. She came to herself and felt like leaving everything and hugging him. But she couldn’t because Massimo had his hands full with the bags and was already holding out a wheel-suitcase for her. With Emma on one arm, the wheel suitcase in the other hand, Francescawalked towardstaircaseB.Massimodisappeared into the doorway. “Mom?” Angela called out to her, and Francesca turned around. A small stone hit her forehead. She saw stars and almost dropped Emma. “What the…” “Excuse me, Signora!” A boy of about sixteen came up to her, tall, thin, 197

Whereas now she seemed reborn.

Massimo and the doorman were talking to each other, but Francesca couldn’t hear. She looked into the courtyard with Emma now calm in her arms.

*

There were six blue buildings. Very clean. They faced each other, in groups of three, on opposite sides of the courtyard. Each building had five floors plus a terrace at the top. Some houses had balconies, the wrought iron painted the same red as the gate. The balconies overflowed with flowers and vases – camellias, cyclamens, mandarins, jasmine, mimosas, even a small banana tree – as if the tenants were in competition with each other. Massimo had a degree in biology, and by now Francesca also knew all the names of the plants. A scent of flowers and greenery spread everywhere. The French doors and apartment windows were all wide open. 196