The flight to Italy was a short one, but all in all, it tired Hilda out more than the agonizing stress did. Between her wedding, her pregnancy, and having to worry about Emilio's fate, it was too much on her shoulders—nevertheless, she knew he had to do the right thing. When the plane landed at Rome's airport, Ludwig and his daughter got off the plane, and as they were waiting for their luggage to come to them, a familiar, cheery voice was heard from a distance.
"Germany! Germany!" the voice said. Hilda looked over—it was none other than Feliciano. "Hilda, you came! Oh, sono felice puoi a venire a auitare Emilio. Ha bisogni di auito." Hilda nodded, looking at her old friend solemnly.
"Fu solo nel mio interesse migliore per aiutarlo a tornare in pista. Non potevo sopportare di vedere lo stesso andare giù il percorso sbagliato," Hilda responded, grabbing her suitcase from the conveyor belt. Ludwig grabbed his, and before long, Feliciano led them outside to his car, where he drove off to his own house.
The Italian was not as much a reckless driver as he was during his youth, but his driving skills were still shaky. At times during their ride to their destination, he went a bit too fast or a bit too slow, but once they reached the house, Hilda was glad he wasn't driving anymore. As she got out of the car, she looked the exterior of Feliciano's villa, which he had lived in since before the Second World War. It was made of beautiful stone and had lovely, exotic greenery growing along the cobblestone path to the door. Above the front door was a balcony with wrought-iron railing in front of a beautiful set of glass French doors. She smiled, taking her suitcase with her as the Italian led her inside.
The two were shown their guest rooms in which they would sleep in during their stay. Hilda particularly liked her room—it was a highly decorated room with two beautiful vases full of flowers, a short dresser with a mirror to check her reflection, and a queen-sized bed covered with a pretty pink bedspread, topped with two fluffy white pillows. Ludwig's room was a rather plain, but he didn't mind it because it was how his own lifestyle was like despite his wealth and influence. They settled in for about two hours in advance before Hilda and Feliciano went to Emilio's house. The Italian knocked on the door gently, and to it came Benedetta, who stared at the beautiful German girl in shock. Who is she, she thought as Feliciano greeted her with the usual kiss to the cheek and hug.
"Buon giorno! I brought a guest!" Feliciano said.
Benedetta stared at Hilda, studying her delicate, angelic features. Her great blue eyes looked at her in a friendly manner, and she couldn't have been more than five-feet, five inches. She was definitely taller than her, but Benedetta was not intimidated by her because of her innocent face—her large blue eyes, her soft blonde hair, her small nose and petite mouth. She smiled and greeted her accordingly using broken English laced with an Italian accent.
"Hello," she said. Her attention turned to Feliciano, looking at him curiously as she whispered: "Chi é questa bellezza bionda?" Hilda was flattered. She called me a 'blonde beauty', she thought happily, if this is Emilio's mother, she seems kind. I think I'll like my stay here.
"This is Hilda, Emilio's former…uh…well, let's just say they were together up until a little while ago. She came all the way from Germany to…uh…help us with his issue," Feliciano said, his voice turning to a whisper during the last words of his sentence used to state her purpose. Benedetta looked at her, her facial expression turning glum and sad.
"Do you…speak Italian, donna giovane?" she asked the young woman, who nodded in return.
"Si, parlo italiano, e capisco te perfettamente," Hilda told her in a flawlessly-spoken sentence. Benedetta smiled at the young woman, welcoming her into the home.
"Grazie per il tuo aiuto, signorina," Benedetta said with deep gratitude.
"Prego," Hilda said. "I could never bear to see Emilio hurt himself like he has been." Benedetta stopped and sat on the sofa, looking up at Hilda frightfully.
"Penso lui é nella cucina ma puoi vedere lui," she told her as Feliciano held her hand and led her slowly to the kitchen.
Benedetta's first impression of her son's whereabouts were correct—in the kitchen, Emilio was getting a drink ready for himself, but before he could take a sip, he saw his uncle come in with Hilda. His amber-brown eyes widened. Is she really here, he thought with disbelief as he marveled at her exquisite presence. It seemed like yesterday that Emilio felt hurt because she was friends with Hans, but now, she seemed like a stranger to him, as though all the alcohol he drank wiped his most important memories away.
"Ciao, Emilio," Hilda finally said, anticipating his reaction to seeing her there.
"Oh, ciao," he said casually, as if he had never spent eight years being in a relationship with her. He took a sip of whiskey from his glass and looked at his uncle in a bewildered daze—whiskey always made him violent.
"Quanti bibite hai bevuto, Emilio?" Feliciano asked, lifting the bottle of Jack Daniels to emphasize what he was saying. In response, the young man snatched the bottle out of his uncle's hand and slammed it on the table roughly, taking a deep breath before taking another sip of his whiskey.
"Non lo so," Emilio said, looking at Hilda soon after answering. "Che cavolo vuoi?"
"Io solamente voglio vedere te," Hilda answered sincerely. Emilio began laughing hysterically as if she were joking.
"Perché? You…you don't love me," he said belligerently—the whiskey was working, and Feliciano knew things were going to get ugly. That's right, I don't, she thought.
"Emilio, I think you should stop drinking now," he suggested. "Why not get some gelato instead?"
"No! Just…j…just get out!" Emilio growled, scaring Hilda to the point where she fled the room to join Benedetta in the other. Feliciano, however, stayed in the kitchen to monitor his nephew's actions.
"Basta bevendo, Emilio! You're going to be hung-over again!" he said, taking his bottle of whiskey and dumping it down the sink.
"No! Sei un cazzo!" he grunted, grabbing his uncle to try and prevent him from dumping his precious beverage down the drain.
However, he managed to grab the bottle, smashing the bottom off so it served as weapon for him to use against Feliciano. In the living room, Benedetta jumped from her seat and sprinted to the kitchen to see what was broken after hearing the shattering sound of the bottle breaking. Hilda was so scared she ran out of the house and back to find her father so he could break them up.
"Emilio? Che cosa stai facendo?" she asked with worry, watching as he was jabbing at Feliciano, who was trying to shield himself on the floor like the coward he was.
"No! Don't kill me! Please don't hurt me! I did nothing wrong! I only did it for your safety!" he screamed, trying to fend him off.
"That was my last bottle of whiskey, you asshole! Now I have to wait until papá gets back home from work to get a new bottle! That's five hours from now! Do you realize how long of a wait that is?!" Emilio shouted, continuing his attack on his cowering uncle. Benedetta ran in and clutched her son in her arms, pulling her away from her brother-in-law with all her might. Hilda, on the other hand, had just returned with Ludwig after finding him walking in the town square.
"Stop it!" Benedetta shouted. "Have you lost your mind?!"
"Let me go, mamma! I beg you! Let me go!" Emilio shouted. Meanwhile, Hilda took Feliciano up from the floor and took him into the other room. Ludwig looked at Emilio, and once the young man caught sight of the intimidating, tall, strong man standing in the doorway, he stopped struggling in his mother's arms, staring at him wide-eyed as though the German were a monster. Promptly, Benedetta let her son go, and once they were face-to-face with each other, she knew she had to do something about his actions.
"Vai via di qui. Adesso!" she hissed. "Non sei mio figlio! Non conosco te di piú." Emilio looked at his mother, giggling foolishly at her orders.
"Tu finalemente sta spedendo me via di qui," he responded, still laughing.
"Adesso, Emilio! ADESSO! Vai via di qui!" Benedetta shrieked, pointing toward the front door.
"Va bene," Emilio responded, walking toward the doorway past Ludwig. "You all don't care about me anyway. I'm a mess, mamma!"
He walked out of the kitchen and into the living room to get to the front door, but once he caught sight of Hilda checking for any wounds or scratches on his Uncle Feliciano, he stopped and watched her absent-mindedly. She checked him carefully on his hands, face, neck, or any other part which may have been exposed to Emilio's sharp, smashed bottle, but managed to find only one scratch across the man's cheek. It was very shallow, and looked as though it would heal up within a matter of days. Her great blue eyes burned with anger towards her former lover as she caught sight of him standing there.
"Mi molto dispiace, zio," Emilio said. Hilda sprung up from her seat next to Feliciano and approached him angrily. He's an entirely different person now, she thought, why waste my time getting on better terms with him?
"Mein gott, Emilio," she said with reluctance. "You know, I only came to help you stop being such a fuck to your family members. Now…I…" Tears began falling from her eyes—she knew she had to be careful otherwise she would lose the baby due to stress. "I don't know you anymore, either, Emilio. I'm sorry!"
"Why are you crying?" he asked with surprising calm as he walked to place his arms around her. Feliciano looked up at his nephew in shock, while in the kitchen doorway, Benedetta and Ludwig saw Emilio redeem himself with a kind, sober gesture toward Hilda. She rested her head against his chest—it just didn't feel the same as Hans' protective embraces.
"I'm very worried about you, Emilio. I know I may not love you anymore, but I still care about you," she wailed. Emilio heard what she said and sighed, feeling himself sober up again. It was a quick recovery from just a few sips of his violence-inducing tonic. As he held her, it sparked wonderful memories in his head, and he felt her glowing aura from the child slowly growing inside of her. She was still small, but she knew that she would get bigger by the next two or three months.
"You…you do?" he asked. "I thought you…you hurt me."
"I didn't hurt you, Emilio. You hurt me by thinking I hurt you. Don't you see? Hans and I were just friends, but because you left, I have to tell you the truth about what's been going on lately," Hilda told him, wiping her tears away. "Want to go for some gelato?"
"No, I'd like some more whiskey," Emilio said. "Or maybe to a bar."
"Nein, Emilio. No more drinking. You got yourself into bad habits. Look at your uncle!" she said, gesturing toward the couch where Feliciano sat. "You attacked him. You've been plagued by your addiction for too long now, and you have to stop it now. Please promise me!"
"Why? I don't even see you anymore, and we aren't together anymore. Why would it matter?" he wondered coldly. Suddenly, Feliciano got up and placed his hand on his nephew's shoulder, about to say something of important significance.
"Do you remember that night when you told me, 'I love her, and I don't want to hurt her with some stupid addiction?'" he stated.
Hilda's eyes widened as she looked up in Emilio's amber-brown eyes. His eyes wandered as the flashback played like a movie clip in his mind. He smiled down at Hilda, caressing her face gently, remembering the night he spent drinking with Feliciano. The words came clear to his memory, and before long, he broke out singing the same song he had sung when he made dinner that evening.
"Si è visto nei fiori e perlato rugiada di mattina;
Nel verde della terra ore e nel cielo di blu eterna.
Si è sentito in primavera quando luce e raggi di sole,
Caldi e gentile, su d'angelo ala portare amore e musica per la mente.
E dove voce, di così giovane,
Così bella e dolce come natura scelta,
Dove primavera e gli amanti si incontrano?
Amore vita oltre la tomba, e la terra, che svanisce come rugiada!
Amo le fond, i fedeli e il vero."
Hilda smiled at his flirtations, reminding her of when she was fourteen and they first met. Starting to laugh, she took the hands of both Feliciano and Emilio, taking them toward the front door.
"Let's get out of here. I'm dying for gelato," she said cheerfully.