Coma. Federico Betti
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than one meter and eighty.
When he bows towards me he moves a hand as to say: “Hey, I’m here. What are you doing sitting there?”
I can’t react in any way. I stay still watching this person in the shape of a shadow that kept making some hand signals to me.
He closes the hand in a fist and moves it close to me, as if I was really in a car and he (now I have decided that he’s a man, I don’t know why) was trying to knock on the car window.
“I have a headache”, I say, “could you give me a painkiller? Or look for it somewhere?”
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he goes away, leaving me all alone in the darkness.
Who was he? What he wanted from me? Was he looking for something? What was going on?
With all these questions swirling in my aching mind I stay here waiting for some answers.
xxi
The rehabilitation that Luigi had to do expected some gymnastics exercises studied specifically to rehabilitate his body to the every day life, after being motionless in a pharmacological coma for two weeks.
He started in the hospital, in a specially-made gym, then he continued in a specialized centre after he was dismissed.
“Finally out of this place”, started his brother Mario the morning that the doctors gave him the authorization to leave the hospital, “are you happy?”, he asked, thinking about the decision they took just before: they would have live together for a certain period, until Luigi’s full recovery.
“Sure, it means that I’m way better.”
“The head physician left me a paper where it’s specified your rehabilitation program. He said that you’ve healed, reacting well at everything.”
“And what about my memory problem?”
“He says that, even though this lack results a quite unusual phenomenon, your memory will come back soon”
“Good”
“Unluckily I can’t help you remember: when I knew about the accident, you were already urgently brought to the emergency room and, honestly, I didn’t worry too much of the dynamics. I was too worried about your health conditions.” Explained Mario.
“I see.” Replied Luigi.
“Maybe in the next few days I’ll go to the traffic police to have detailed information.” Proposed the brother.
“Okay.”
Soon I will know who did this to me…
Arrive at home in Arno street, in Bologna’s suburbs, Mario suggested to his brother to relax on the couch in the living room, while he would have made something for lunch.
They ate something simple, pasta with tomato sauce and a beef steak, then they got back to the conversation that they left unfinished before.
“I checked the prices of some cruises on the Norwegian fiords”, started Mario, “They cost a little more than a thousand euros each but, considering the location, I think that it would be worth it. We can afford them once in a while, can’t we?”
“Well, I’d say we can”, nodded Luigi, “I’d really like to, and besides it’s a really long time we didn’t go on a holiday like this together.”
“So, this year will be the good one. We’ll book as soon as possible. I’ve seen that there’s a travel agency not far from here. I’ll go.” Said Mario, excited.
“Good” nodded Luigi.
“Now, if you feel tired, rest. Otherwise, you could watch the one p.m. news with me”
“I’ll rest after the news”, decided Luigi.
And so he did.
xxii
I’m driving, I don’t know where to, but I’m driving.
In this moment, I’m stuck here, and I realize that I’m not alone: it seems that there are other vehicles behind me, maybe a couple.
It’s dark and I have a bad headache that almost obfuscates my sights; it pulses so much in my temples that I need to close my eyes hoping that it could help to make its intensity decrease.
This attempt doesn’t have the hoped conclusion: the headache stays as it was, so strong to make me lose my orientation; I can’t understand anything, I don’t know where I am, nor I can remember the reason.
I see a few vehicles passing in front of me, as if they were overstepping an obstacle, then a shadow comes close.
Finally someone who might help me, I’m sick, it’s like a truck passed over me.
The shadow is next to me, on the other side of the window.
It’s of a quite dark grey tone, but that you can distinguish in the total black around me; I can’t really see who it is, but I can more or less understand his dimensions and that the hypothetical eyes are two small shiny lights (maybe it’s a sign that indicate that they are of a light shade?)
“Excuse me, do you have a painkiller?”, I ask, “I want this awful headache to go away.”
The shadow gesticulates with his hands, moving them to the right and to the left, he stares at me for a while with the two lights that he has in place of his eyes, then, without answering to me, he goes away leaving me alone and without any chance to take away from me the dizziness due to the headache.
I feel powerless in this situation, with the headache that never goes away and, instead, it seems to increase, giving up more and more. I don’t react, I look like an unarmed fighter.
What can I do?
Far away, behind me, I see some small fires, maybe six or seven, like candles. What do they mean? I don’t even have the energy to make up hypothesis.
Other vehicles pass by me, walking pace, I see them without being able to distinguish them, they appear to me like masses of metal sheets and light. Why?
This scene goes on like this for a while, I spend the time distractedly watching all that’s happening around me and realising that I’m bystander grown apart, shot down by the strong migraine.
xxiii
The morning after, Luigi showed up at the gym that was suggested by the doctors to start the long rehabilitation procedure.
“Come, mister Mazza”, a twenty-five years old girl greeted him, “I’ll introduce you the person that will follow you all the time.”
They started walking towards a specifically furnished room, where a guy in his tracksuit was organizing the gymnastic equipment.
“Here, he’s Massimo,” said the girl, “I introduce you mister Luigi Mazza.”
The two greeted and, after a few moments, they were alone in the gym and the rehabilitation sessions started.
xxiv
Mario Mazza found the phone number of the traffic police that was the nearest possible to the house and, after getting informed about office hours, he went there in person to ask for some information about the accident that got his brother involved.
He was received by a lady in her fifty that, as soon as she saw him coming in, she put the sandwich she was eating down and said: “Hello, can I help you?”
“I hope so”, he replied, “I’m looking for some information”
“Tell me”
“Maybe you could help me. About two or three weeks ago, on Bologna’s orbital road took place a car accident. I would like to know more about it.”
“Mm… are you a journalist?”
Mario smiled