One Step to You (The Rome Novels #1)(41)
Without thinking, Step started racing. He left old memories behind him, accelerating to outrun them. Eighty kilometers per hour, ninety. Faster and faster. The chilly air pricked at his face, and that new source of suffering seemed to provide some relief. Ninety-five, a hundred. Faster and faster still.
With his turn indicator blinking, he went racing between two cars side by side. He almost brushed against them as his half-open eyes looked elsewhere. Happy images of that woman filled his tangled mind.
A hundred five, a hundred ten, a gentle rise and the motorcycle practically flew through an intersection. A stoplight that had just turned red. The cars on the left honked their horns, stopping short just after starting up at their green. Obeying the dictates of that arrogant, bullying motorcycle, as fast and dangerous as a navy-blue chrome-plated bullet.
A hundred ten, a hundred twenty-five. The wind was whistling. The road, its sides blurry now, merged at the center. Another intersection. A distant stoplight. The green vanished. The yellow appeared. Step pressed his thumb down on the small button on the right, marked in English as the HORN. The horn sounded its voice in the night like the scream of a wounded wild animal, galloping to its death. Step shouted into the darkness, like an ambulance siren, piercing as the shout of the wounded man it was carrying. His scream came out loud and deep, a suffering mirror of what he was feeling.
Closer and closer now. The traffic light changed again. Red light.
Babi started pounding her fists against his back. “Stop, stop.”
At the intersection, the cars started up. A wall of metal, dozens of colorful, expensive bricks, was suddenly erected, loud, in their path. It drew closer and closer, dangerous and insurmountable.
“Stop!” That last scream, that cry for life. Step suddenly seemed to snap out of it. The throttle, suddenly released, quickly dropped to zero. The engine downshifted under his domineering foot.
Fourth gear, third, second. His left hand clenched down hard on the steel brake handle, practically bending it. The motorcycle shook as it braked to a halt, as the RPMs dropped dizzyingly, in a rivalry with the speedometer to drop to zero. The tires left two deep, straight stripes on the asphalt. The smell of burning rubber swirled around the smoking pistons. Motionless.
The cars went rolling past just inches from the motorcycle’s front wheel, just beyond the white stripe, the limit line. None of the drivers had noticed a thing.
Only then did Step remember Babi. He turned around. She’d dismounted. He saw her there, leaning against a wall at the side of the road.
He put the bike on the kickstand and got off, crossing the street to join her. Fragile cries were emerging from her chest, unrestrained like the tiny tears that streaked her pale face. Step didn’t know what to do now. Standing there, facing her with his arms spread, fearful even of touching her, afraid of the idea that those faint nervous hiccups might be transformed by his mere touch into an unstoppable wave of sobbing.
Nevertheless, he dared to touch her. But her reaction was unexpected. Babi pushed his hand away forcefully, and her words came pouring out in something approaching a shout, broken by her cries.
“Why? Why are you like this? Are you insane? What made you think you needed to drive like that? So reckless, so crazy?”
Step didn’t know what to say to her. He looked at those eyes, so big and glistening, bathed in tears.
How could he explain it to her? How could he tell her what lay behind this? His heart tightened into a silent vise grip.
Babi looked at him. Her suffering, inquiring blue eyes sought an answer in him, a tranquil beach where it was possible to lie comfortably in satisfied peace.
Step shook his head. I can’t, he seemed to be repeating deep inside. I just can’t.
Babi sniffed loudly and then, as if gathering her strength, launched into it again. “Who was that woman? Why did you change all of a sudden? Step, you have to tell me. What was there between you two?”
And that last phrase, that huge mistake, that unthinkable misunderstanding seemed to hit him full on. In an instant, all his defenses collapsed. The constant, powerful guard he always kept up, trained by an enduring silence, day after day, suddenly fell. His heart let go, for the first time unafraid and tranquil.
He smiled at that naive young woman. “So you want to know who that woman was?”
Babi nodded.
“That was my mother.”
Chapter 15
Just two years earlier, Step was pacing back and forth in the privacy of his room as he tried to go over his chemistry lesson. He leafed back through his notebook full of notes. It was no good. Those formulas just didn’t want to enter into his head.
He let himself fall back into his chair and went on studying, with both elbows braced against the table, fists driven into his forehead, determined to do well on that exam. It was his last year of high school at Villa Flaminia.
Suddenly, from the top floor of the building across the way, loud music started up. It was Lucio Battisti, singing loud and clear, You come back into my thoughts, sweet as you are…
Step looked up. Lucky you, he thought. Nothing comes back into my thoughts, and I hate chemistry.
Then, seeing that they were really determined to make him listen to the whole album, he lost his temper. They’re out of their minds! He slammed both hands down on the table. That’s the last thing I needed.
He stood up and looked out the window. Nothing. In the building across the way, there was no sign of anyone.