Gianluca Ginoble and I

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Gianluca was wet too, and he pulled me tightly against him and rushed back to the house with me, saying my name over and over, but I was too tired to even open my eyes.

He brought me inside, where it was blindingly bright, and laid me on the floor in the kitchen, covering my face in kisses.

The floor was cold and hard, but I was wet and dirty and the couch wouldn’t be appropriate, though I pined for its comfort and warmth.

“Piero, get some towels!” Gianluca ordered.

“There’s some in the dryer right now!” he called, rushing away.

“Ignazio, call the parents!”

          “But what do I tell them?”

“I don’t know! I…I guess we’ll have to ask Naomi!”

He knelt next to me and leaned into me, his arm on my shoulder, shaking me. I tried to tell him to stop, but no words came out.

“Naomi, what happened? Who hurt you!?”

I didn’t answer.

He pulled me up to lean against him.

“Come on, Naomi, what happened?”

“Oh, Gianluca, can you please just let me sleep?” I begged, finding my voice.

He rejoiced in hearing my voice, and pressed my head against his chest.

“Just tell me if you’re okay!”

I forced myself to answer.

“I think so. It was the mountain.”

“The mountain? Naomi, what happened?”

I didn’t answer.

“Come on, Naomi,” Ignazio encouraged, crouching down next to me. “We need to know.”

“Just tell me if you need us to take you to the hospital,” Gianluca said.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m kind of…numb…and cold…Just let me sleep, guys, please…”

Piero came in with towels fresh from the dryer, and Gianluca took one and began to wipe the mud and water off my face with it. It was soft and fluffy and warm, and it felt good.

I was shivering, and I was so exhausted…

“What do I tell them?” Ignazio asked again.

Feeling obliged to answer, I whispered, “Tell them that I came home on my own and I’m okay, but not to come yet because I can’t bear to do anything but sleep, and they’ll freak out if they see me looking like this.”

“Should I say that?” Ignazio asked Gianluca.

“Yes, I guess so,” Gianluca said. “But be as gentle and reassuring as possible! Tell them to go out and eat or something, and that we’ll take care of her and get her to tell us the full story. Tell them she’s safe now.”

He kept wiping me off, and I felt like one of those rejected newborn kittens that you have to rub to get it to respond.

“It’s no use, Gianluca,” Piero interjected. “She needs a warm bath and dry clothes, and so do you.”

That sounded wonderful, but I was too tired to bathe.

“Here, take her,” Gianluca said, and I was transferred to Piero, who held me as tight as Gianluca had. He took the towel and kept wiping off my face and hair.