When the Night by Cristina Comencini Read Free Book Online

you!”
    What have I done? Mario mustn’t know.
    “Don’t console him, let him cry. It’s better if he cries. And you, stop crying! You’re not a child!”
    Bastard.
    “Did he hit his head?”
    Don’t tell him anything, Marina. Be careful. I mutter, “He climbed up onto the table and slipped, taking the bottles with him.”
    “Where did he hit his head?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Where were you?”
    The fool, why does she look down? “I said, don’t move him! Let him cry, it’s good for him. Caress him, but without moving him. Where were you?”
    “In the bathroom. I only left him for an instant.”
    Why did I say that? I should have said I was there but didn’t make it in time to stop him.
    She’s lying. Why was she sitting behind the door instead of with the child, holding him in her arms?
    “You could have put him in his crib.”
    “He climbs out of it. He was playing nicely with his cars, so I thought I’d have enough time to go to the bathroom.”
    “Why were you behind the door instead of with him?”
    Bastard. I won’t answer.
    “Stop crying, we’re here. Take him in, and I’ll park.”
    A driveway, patches of light on a lawn, flowers, empty benches. Emergency room entrance. Two nurses come out to meet us.
    I must repeat the same thing to everyone: he climbed up on the table and slipped, bringing down the bottles with him. He hit his head hard.
    The nurses open the door.
    “What happened?”
    “He climbed on the kitchen table and slipped, taking the bottles down with him. He hit his head hard.”
    “We’ll take him in for observation.”
    “Can I come? He’ll get scared if he doesn’t see me.”
    “No, we’ll call you.”
    He begins to scream. They take him from me. I want to die.
    I FOLLOW THEM until they disappear behind a glass door. The waiting room is empty except for a mother with her newborn. It’s clean, with pictures of happy children on the walls.
    I sit down to keep from crumpling to the floor. The mother stares at me. I look away, but I know she will ask me.
    “Did he fall?”
    “Yes.”
    She smiles. “With my firstborn, I was always at the emergency room. Boys never stop moving.”
    What have I done? I feel like I’m about to start screaming. Stop, Marina. No one knows what happened. They’ll be ableto fix him. He’ll be scared without me. I should have gone with him, held him. What harm would it have done? Maybe he won’t want me to hold him anymore.
    Mamma, go away!
    I cry, and everything grows cloudy: the waiting room, the empty chairs, the pictures of happy children.
    “Don’t cry. Children are strong.”
    What does she know? What does anyone know about me? No one knows. The bastard suspects something. Where did he go? I have to get rid of him. If he comes back I’ll thank him and tell him to go home. I can manage on my own. The only thing that matters is that the baby is OK and no one knows. Mario. My mother. Otherwise, they’ll take him away. And if they take him, I’ll kill myself. There he is.
    “Where is the boy?”
    “They took him inside.”
    I get up, so he gets the message.
    “Thank you for everything. I’m going to stay here with him, but you should go home.”
    Now she plays the grande dame, but she won’t get rid of me that easily.
    “Let’s see how he’s doing first. The police will want to talk to me.”
    My legs are shaking. I’d better sit.
    This man hates me. He wants me dead. I must be stronger, and more clever. Marina, get a hold of yourself, think things through, stop crying. Act like an adult. You must protect your baby and get rid of this bastard.
    I smile at him. My eyes are still moist; maybe he’ll feel sorry for me.
    “I’m sorry about how I behaved before. I was confused. I saw him lying on the floor, bloody, with his eyes closed, and I was terribly afraid, so I hid behind the door like a child.”
    The woman with the newborn interrupts.
    “It happens. When my son used to fall I would cover my face so as not to see