𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐚 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐚 - Måneskin

Chapter 1 ◌ Rosa rossa

MARLENA

Rome, 2021

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

"Ughhhhhh per Dio!"

It's 11 o'clock. I open my eyes to the rut of life. A routine existing of nothing.

Today, I am going to search for something to thrive for. Today, I will get on my legs, get dressed, and go outside to dance in the sunbeams peeking through the pillars of a little pavilion in Villa Borghese.

That's what I used to do for a living: dancing, my soul passion. People used to applaud me, praise my elegance and presence. My audience made me feel like a blooming rose with petals, shining in the sunlight. I was a fresh bouquet like you bought me at the market at 9 o'clock when the farmers carefully picked me at 6. I smelled good, although my buds hadn't opened properly yet so that I could flourish for a couple more days. You could give me to your lover, my sole purpose caressing the eyes and spreading my perfume through the chambers of your house. Or you could give me to your mother, knowing she will love me and care for me, because I was a way of you to show her affection.

I felt like all that, so thankful for you cheering for my grace. I liked being this beautiful creature for you, I liked the way you secretly glanced at me when your wives stood next to you, while pulling your arms to walk away. I liked how the little girls tried to dance with me just like I did, like I was some example for the younger generation. And I loved it most when I was the one you brought fresh flowers from the market.

Rosa rosse, gigli bianchi.

But last year, the park had closed and everyone had to stay inside. The bustling city Rome always used to be, went to sleep. The colors of the park faded because of its emptiness. Where people used to walk, laugh, and eat, were only birds now. Grey pigeons.

For me, a hibernation started the day everything closed. The cheerful colors I always used to be surrounded with effloresced. Alternatively, grey clouds circle around my head, like a swarm of those stupid pigeons trying to steal my seeds. Now I only feel like a withered flower, gasping for light and water. I have lost all my petals.

I haven't touched my ballet pointe shoes ever since. I can barely stand on my feet so why would I even try to wear those tiny white shoes with ribbons that always squeezed my calves. I don't even remember where I threw them, they are probably catching dust somewhere just like the other furniture.

Musica, I think, always used to cheer me up. Maybe that could be the first baby step for me to get better. So I turn over in my bed and I put on the radio on an arbitrary radio station.

Il ballo della vita! - Il ballo di Marlena - Marlena sì vienimi a parlare- ti prego Marlena

A rasping voice comes out of the speakers, from my ears straight to my heart. Like a needle stinging through my chest.

I sigh, hearing his voice hurts more than I had expected. I know their success had become enormous in the last couple of weeks, I know they are taking over the world with their canzoni and their unique image. They are young, new and fresh and everyone loves that. I feel bad that I'm a little envious, I rather kept them for myself. Okay, they had grown by coming so far in X-Factor, and with their previous album but at that time I was still with them. I just hope they haven't forgotten about me. I know this may sound like a big thing to say for me, but the tiniest part of their success is because of me. And the world doesn't know in which way, they only know my name but not the sentiment behind the genius lyrics of their songs.

Because I was there with my old friends, and you all weren't. I was the first one to know the lyrics because I sat next to him when he was writing them. I know every riff and every solo because they played them for the first for me, and then we danced, laughed and we're happy together. 

We used to be side by side all the time.

Reading that they won San Remo and then Eurovision overjoyed me with pride, I remember these moments very lively, because it had been a long time since some light and bliss had entered my life. I was so proud, I love to read about them in the newspapers, see their faces on the covers of every popular magazine. I follow them everywhere from the inside of my cocoon, all alone.

Yet those emotions are complicated because they came together with the lingering feeling I miss them so much, and I want to be together with them to celebrate their life-changing experiences. They make me feel blue, I used to know them but at this moment they all feel so far away.

I miss the friends I had for such a long time, but mostly I miss him.

My Damiano, now I have to share him with the whole world. My Dami, singing my name on the radio. Like he is begging me or giving me a sign. I want to feel his lips again, softly brushing against my ear: "Marlena," in the way only he could say it, with his warm timbre touching me into my core. Melancholy shoved all my other feelings away. I realize I don't even remember the last time he did that.

Maybe today is not the day.

I turn the radio off, shutting down Damiano's voice. I go back into my silence and crawl back under my warm bedsheets. I wish I could turn my thoughts off, but my fuzzy blanket gives me some comfort. There used to be a time that he was the one comforting me, caressing me.

But that day is not today because my blanket can't take such liability.