It started as a light drizzle when he came to a certain realization: crime in Naples was rampant.
Therefore, if he took a bribe from one of thousands of crooks, the likelihood of being face-to-face with his consequences was close to zero.
But fate had plans, or perhaps wanted to mock him.
All those many lonely nights after his parents were gone, with no other family to take him in, little Leone would dream of a future where he was a police officer — one day promoted to detective — with the respect of the entire department and community.
For eleven years, he ignored the many news reports and tales from his classmates. Once there, his eyes slowly opened to the truth, and he coped by joining the norm despite his heart screaming at him to stop.
Maybe it was the heavy drinking, the many hookups, or a combination of the two. Regardless, he didn't listen to his instincts when pointing his gun at the head of the pimp, too distracted by the feeling that his entire life was crashing down.
And with one gunshot, the crash was brutal.
The downpour became heavy.
One year later, a changed man by many, many regards, he sat alone in the darkness of his apartment in the very early morning.
Abbacchio deserved to live in solitude, resigning himself to that fate as he laid on his couch. His hands were shaking, desperately wanting to grab a bottle of wine and drink all the contents in a matter of seconds.
After everything he did, Abbacchio was entitled to nothing except shame and loneliness.
His legs, too long for any couch, dangled off the armrest. One leg dropped to the floor, where his foot hit a soft object. For a brief moment, his state of dejection was swayed. With a raised eyebrow, he lifted his head and saw his foot sitting atop a plush lamb.
Wait, Abbacchio wasn't alone. His daughter, his precious Liliana, was sleeping peacefully in their bedroom.
The small moments of happiness in his melancholy life took place during work, where the gloominess of his face was temporarily erased with cheerful determination. His calculating, thought-provoking mind could spin its gears once Bucciarati gave a command.
But then the day ended, he wallowed himself in his small apartment, and the misery painted itself on again. It was an apt fate.
That wasn't correct, however, because when he opened the door and entered his home, there was Liliana. Bright smiles and never-ending giggles, she turned his dreary demeanor into one of playfulness.
Abbacchio would entertain her with toys and give in to her nonsensical games simply because it made her happy. He would tickle her senseless, kiss her cheeks, and wipe away her tears.
Any moment with Liliana gave him purpose, and he didn't deserve that.
The continuous contentment was not belonging to a man who shed so much blood, whose corruption directly resulted in the death of an innocent, good-hearted man.
Abbacchio didn't deserve to live. Lampone should be in his place.
Life for Abbacchio was meant to be nothing but spending his days in a depressive state, drinking himself to death while no one spared him pity. He was a disgusting, spineless, weak excuse of a man that-
There was a wail echoing through the apartment. Abbacchio lifted his head, eyes squinting to see the baby monitor. The blurry camera depicted his little girl, heavy tears falling down her cheeks as she screamed.
"Lili!"
In the past month, Liliana developed a new type of crying. Her teeth, like all babies, were growing in one at a time. The baby books stated that the process of teething was extremely painful, and her screams definitely confirmed it.
Abbacchio opened the door to reveal Liliana sitting up in her crib, hand in her mouth as heavy tears streamed down her cheeks. She heard the door open, looking up at her father with a sniffle.
As much as Abbacchio wanted to focus on his sorrow and curl up into a ball and cry, there was someone more important.
"Oh, principessa," Abbacchio said in pity, approaching the crib and kneeling level to Liliana. "Looks like we're both having a rough night."
The baby continued her sobs, blinking at her father before expanding her arms with another heartbreaking wail.
"I'm sorry, Lili," he said while lifting her from the crib, rubbing her small back as she curled up on his frame while tiny hands gripped onto his shirt. "I know it hurts. Shush, papa's got you. Where are your rings?"
Occasionally, he considered it strange the speed in which he attended to Liliana's needs. Whenever a new problem arose, he would panic, mind ablaze, as he worried that he was failing as a parent. But once he found a solution, Abbacchio would tend to his daughter with ease. Even now, he didn't wince as she put the collar of his shirt in her mouth.
With her, there was no sorrow, no drinking himself to death, no going about the day and night in a drunken haze. Despite her loud cries and fussiness, every moment with her was comforting, worthwhile.
And, most importantly, she helped him forget his depressing past.
Abbacchio reached into her toy box for a teething ring. Best to use the ring so she would not slobber on and chew holes into his clothes.
"Alright, here you go, Lili," cooed Abbacchio to the baby, still desperately crying. "Shhh, the pain will go away if you take this. That's right, baby girl, that's right. Everything will be okay."
Liliana's cries subsided, though tears continued to fall down her face as she chewed on the ring. She sniffled pitifully, laying her head on Abbacchio's shoulder for comfort. It was quite the devastating sight, enhanced by the gentle light of the lamp highlighting her tears. Those tears, no matter the cause, could only be wiped away by him. He was the source of comfort she always wanted, needed.
Wait…
"You… you need me," Abbacchio realized. "You need me, that's why I'm happy more and more. A lot happier, actually. You gave me a new purpose that isn't a distraction like Passione. Every moment with you, it's so fulfilling."
Liliana wrapped her dainty arm around his neck as he sat on the couch, as if she was flattered by his words. If she were truly appreciative, however, she wouldn't let her drool fall onto Abbacchio's clothes as she continued chewing.
"I mean, you always did give me purpose the moment your mother told me about you. My life was just a collection of me fucking up everything. I'm awful, I deserve it, but you don't. You didn't ask for me to be your father. I do my best to give you unconditional love because that's my duty. You don't have to love me, I still don't think that, given all these fuckups I've done, I deserve it. Yet you give it to me genuinely, without thought."
His daughter bounced in his arms, releasing an excited sequel. She dropped her ring on his pants; he visibly grimaced, distracted from the warm emotions and now disgusted by the prospect of spit staining his clothes.
Two tiny, adorable arms enclosed around his neck with a loud giggle. A loud noise next to his ear would have earned a groan and profanity-filled complaint, but this sound was akin to a lullaby. Everything about Liliana was charming. Truly an amazement.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is, it feels nice to be needed," Abbacchio said, embracing her back and laughing with her.
As much as he wished he could hide forever, drink all his feelings away, he couldn't. There was a little girl who woke up everyday crying for her papa, the only family she had.
He gave several gentle kisses to her forehead. To his surprise, Liliana responded with a kiss of her own. Incredibly forced and slobbery, the feel of drool sliding down his cheek was worth a shudder. But Abbacchio merely shrugged, rubbing away the slobber with his sleeve, smiling wider as his daughter babbled at him.
"I'm glad that you agree."
Eventually, the rods of the umbrella would snap. Before then, he would enjoy the security.
Abbacchio never considered himself a morning person. If Liliana was awake, then so was he. But mornings were spent inside the apartment or at Libeccio's where his body slowly woke up. He typically never attempted to casually go outside before noon; too many people going to work or school. Waking up earlier was an option, but no sane person was awake at the crack of dawn, so neither was he.
Yet the probability of his former coworkers visiting Lampone's grave was high. They would ridicule him, feigning that they were humble and never accepted bribes; however, their corruption never directly caused the death of a fellow officer.
It was best to visit early in the morning to lessen the risk of a public mocking and his former coworkers learning about Liliana. Yes, he loved her more than anything and was undoubtably proud of her unlimited happiness, but circumstances meant she had to be shielded from certain eyes.
The officers would laugh at Abbacchio for seemingly worsening his life than what they thought possible. Being dishonorably discharged at eighteen, falling into a drunken depression, and becoming a father a year later would be comedic in their views. They would ignore his small improvements and the unconditional love for his daughter who had no choice in her parentage.
Liliana was already a shy little girl, hiding her cherubic face in the crook of her father's neck when approached by a stranger, cuddling him tightly when he returned home from work. He didn't want to imagine her tears in response to scorning.
The silence of early morning deafened his senses as he stared at Lampone's grave.
"Hey, Lampone," he greeted, kneeling down to be face-to-face to his grave. "I… I'm…"
Shit, how was he supposed to address him after all this time?
Was he to brag about his contentment with his life, the constant joy he felt with his daughter? To say all that in front of the innocent man whose death he caused because of his convoluted morals, Abbacchio might as well stomp on the flowers right there.
And what did he have to show a year later? His job as a mafioso, a criminal . Going down such a path after taking a vow to enforce justice was another slap in the face.
"I'm sorry," he finally muttered. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this. This shouldn't have been the end for you, but I was so fucking stupid."
Abbacchio felt a tiny hand pat his cheek where tears fell. Liliana was staring at him with wide eyes, sniffling and whimpering as she attempted to wipe his tears.
"Shit, sorry, Lili," he said as he cuddled her close, stroking her hair and bouncing her to stop any distress.
Liliana continued to look up at him like she was trying to determine what was upsetting him. Despite always feeling comforted by her presence, he hated the guilt that consumed him for her having such a delicate father like him, even if Bucciarati had assured him that he was improving.
He was growing, albeit slowly and would never be the person he once was.
And maybe Lampone would appreciate that.
At the station, he was always quick to reassure Abbacchio that he was doing good work. On the verge of a panic attack, he would ask if he could give him a hug or pat on the back, telling him that despite the world looking grim, that all efforts were for naught, everything would eventually be okay.
He was somewhat right. Not everything was perfect. Most days, there were hours of time when he wanted to curl into a corner and cry. But Liliana would eventually cry and not stop until he got up and helped her.
Liliana, in all her innocence, made life worth living.
"So, Lampone, a lot has happened since the funeral," Abbacchio redirected his attention to the grave. "A lot of bad, but there has been some good stuff. The first improvement was my new job. Technically, it is criminal activity, but I am actively helping people, so that's nice. The second is this little lady right here."
Liliana was quickly and meticulously propped against his back, giggling and kicking her legs in response.
"This is Liliana," he continued, stroking his daughter's wavy hair. "She's my little girl. She wasn't planned, but she's a welcome addition to my life. Gives me motivation to get out of bed in the morning. And I think I'm doing a pretty good job. She is so happy all the time, and she can be pretty clingy, so she does like me."
To prove his point, Liliana tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. Abbacchio kissed her forehead to settle her. Even at the most somber locations, she was adorable.
"So yeah, my life is improving little by little. Maybe you'd be proud of me. I don't think I deserve it. Before I leave, I just want to say sorry again. No apologies can make up what I did to you."
He turned on his feet to leave. The sun had fully risen. He would not stay long enough for his former coworkers to visit.
Exiting the cemetery, Abbacchio noticed that cars now occupied the streets, people were walking on sidewalks. Everyone was minding their business, but it was not the peace and quiet Abbacchio wanted.
They were judging him. Mocking him to celebrate the first anniversary of Lampone's death due to his corruption. They would never let me forget. As long as he was in Naples, discernment was at every corner, and rightfully so.
In his arms, Liliana whimpered. She tugged on the collar of his jacket with a lovable pout. Abbacchio instinctively lifted her onto his shoulder, patting her back to prevent tears from falling.
"Shhhh," he whispered. "You're alright, principessa. It's just a rough day for me. None of it is your fault at all."
Staying in Naples for the day would certainly lead to a panic attack. Abbacchio did not wish to subject himself to such mental distress with Liliana around. He was all she had, and she didn't deserve to watch her only parent go through peril.
They had to leave.
In theory, it was a smart idea.
Ever since he was little, he imagined that a train ride to Salerno would contain beautiful sights. After graduating from high school, he escaped to Naples via bus. Abbacchio never had the opportunity to experience the relaxing ride on a train he dreamed of. Just him alone in a compartment, doing nothing but staring at the views of the window.
The alone part of the plan, however, was skewed
by the addition of a little bundle. But surely that would not hinder the moment.
As the station crowded, Abbacchio watched Liliana slept in her stroller, internally praying that she would continue napping. More people entered, chatting away with one another, their voices echoing.
His worst fears came true as Liliana started to whimper, her tiny frame shaking.
"No no no," Abbacchio whispered, moving the stroller back and forth to create a rocking motion. "Please don't do this now. Just sleep through this. Please."
Her response was a loud whine.
Abbacchio hastily lifted her into his hold, wincing as several people started to stare at him.
"Oh no. J-just… just calm down, Lili. I know it's loud, but w-we're getting a lot of looks. They're gonna think… think that I'm a bad and inadequate father… and maybe they're right..."
Another whine.
While she batted her hands against his chest, Abbacchio bounced her and looked around frantically. A woman glared at father and daughter, turning to whisper to her friend without breaking eye contact with them.
"He looks rather young doesn't he?"
Goddammit.
"Shit, shit, shit," he stammered. "Oh god. Please, Liliana, just calm down. Papa is right here. Please don't make me panic."
"STAND CLEAR!"
The voice on the speaker was forcibly commanding. If Abbacchio was not so panicked, he would have laughed silently to himself, conjuring an image of the man behind the mic swiftly leaning back into his seat with a tired sigh the moment the speaker was turned off.
His mind was instead focused on relief. He would rush inside the train as soon as the doors opened, choosing a compartment, and locking it shut.
Like music to his ears, the doors opened with a subdued "thud". He ran away from the crowd and onto the train without a thought, hurriedly apologizing to those whose paths he intercepted.
Liliana's cries echoed in the compartment. Abbacchio had grown accustomed to her loud wails, regarding them with gentle shushes and reassurances. His mind was much more relaxed now, no longer panicking at the possibility of complaints from the other passengers. Realistically, they were glaring at him and his daughter as they entered the train, but he wouldn't notice, nor did he care at the time. This compartment was akin to their own, temporary world.
"It's okay now, Liliana," Abbacchio comforted while reaching forward, grabbing a pacifier from the diaper bag. "It's just you and me. No crowds or loud noises to bother us. Well, the train horn may go off once we get moving, but that shouldn't be too noisy."
Liliana reduced her distress to whimpers as the pacifier was placed in her mouth. As Abbacchio wiped her tears, she lazily placed her head on his broad chest, her hand taking hold of his shirt.
"There we go."
The duo sat silently for the next few minutes, Abbacchio gently stroking her wavy hair and Liliana gazing out the window with wide, curious eyes. She bounced in his lap as a train arrived next to them. Abbacchio should not have been surprised by her variety of reactions, as she was in a new place with many unfamiliar senses. Now, he was simply glad that her latest discoveries were followed by feelings of wonder rather than fear.
With the hoot of a horn, the train began its journey. Abbacchio was relieved that no one entered his compartment. It made sense, as people likely were not interested in sharing a space with a potentially crying baby and a goth.
Another allevation was that Liliana was not startled by the horn. She lifted her head to look at Abbacchio, her grip on his shirt tightening. The crowded station did interrupt her nap, so perhaps her drowsiness overcame her frights. Ideally, she would fall asleep, as a delay in her nap would make her quite fussy, and Abbacchio did not want to manage that in a public setting.
"The ride should be smoothing enough for you to fall asleep," Abbacchio soothed – Liliana was always easily swayed to sleep by his voice, even as he spoke the most mundane statements. "Just you, me, and the rocking of the train. It's nice, isn't… huh?"
Liliana released an excited squeal, mumbled by her pacifier, and pointed to the window. Right there was the landscape of Naples and its sea coast. The compartment was on the side of the coast, and in their sight were no buildings, honking cars, or clueless tourists, but rather fresh ocean waves crashing against the empty beach with eager, friendly vendors selling their homemade goods on the boardwalk. Winter was swiftly approaching, so it was much too cold for people to relax on the sand, unless they desired to feel the chill of the sea carried by the breeze. Residents and tourists coexisted on the boardwalk, the former gazing at the vendors for any good catching their eyes, while the latter eagerly spent their money – they never knew if they would ever return, best to purchase all they could now.
It was rather strange how Abbacchio, born and raised in Salerno, felt a rising sentiment as he looked out the window. Disregarding the tourists, the coast of Naples was a reminder of his former home. He would never return to living there – too much pain and trauma was scattered across the city – but a glimpse into the happier moments of his childhood was refreshing, a welcome change to the constant thoughts of suffering.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Abbacchio asked his daughter, her earlier excitement waning as her heavy eyes fluttered, and her body was growing limp in his hold. "I always wanted to see the view from here to Salerno, and I'm glad to experience this with you."
Liliana, not wanting to succumb to slumber, lazily fussed. She was quelled with a gentle kiss to her forehead and her father's baritone, soothing voice whispering, "I'll be here when you wake up. I'll always be here."
Abbacchio treated himself to an early lunch at a coffee shop. He sat at a table and gazed out the window, familiarizing with the scenery of Salerno, while moving Liliana's stroller back and forth. The waitress was kind, telling Abbacchio that his daughter was cute before putting down his plate.
The streets were beginning to crowd, people temporarily leaving work to find somewhere to eat lunch. There was less urgency in their movements compared to those of Naples; much less of a risk of encountering confused tourists or criminal activities. Some walked along the boardwalk, where vendors sold a mixture of everyday items and specialty made clothes or goods. Others took a stroll on the sands of the beach, closing their eyes whenever the cool, gentle breeze caressed their faces.
The lunch was standard: pasta with a pesto sauce and an espresso for a drink. He could get a similar meal at Libeccio's, but he was not looking to eat anything special.
After his stomach was full, he paid his bill and left. He decided to spend the next few hours walking along the boardwalk and visiting any shops that caught his interest. Liliana would, of course, wake up at some point and demand her needs be tended to.
He would probably have to handle a double attack of a diaper change and feeding, but finding a secluded spot in Salerno was simple.
"Leone? Is that you?" a voice shouted.
"Are you sure, Pompelmo?" asked another voice who entered the scene. "The white hair is really the only thing that is like Leone."
Who the hell were these people? Randomly calling out his name like they were friendly with him when he didn't have any friends. He would have considered it an enemy wanting to declare themselves as a threat, and the name Pompelmo was a familiar tune. Passion had its characters, but these two strangers lacked venom in their voices, so he and Liliana were safe.
"What the hell are you calling me for?" Abbacchio said with the grit of his teeth while turning to face the strangers, tightly clutching the handles of the stroller. "Stop acting like you kno– Pompelmo and Uva?"
People from high school? He never thought he would see any of his fellow graduates ever again.
"I fucking knew it!" yelled Pompelmo, approaching Abbacchio with a cheeky smile. "There's no one else I know that is as freakishly tall as you."
Pompelmo was an acquaintance. They shared similar tastes in music, though Pompelmo never engaged with other aspects of goth culture. He was rather loud for Abbacchio to handle on a daily basis, so communication between the two was limited.
"I'm 188 centimeters," Abbacchio grumbled. "I'm tall, but not that tall."
"Just because your family is short, Pompelmo, doesn't mean everyone taller than you is a giant," Uva said while approaching the two. "You look good, Leone."
A few years ago, Uva was considered as close of a friend as one could be. She was a very relaxed person, being the voice of irony in whatever group she was in. She occasionally helped Abbacchio escape his gloomy demeanour with her jokes. Despite her serene tone, she was not bothered by loud noises or people.
"Uh, thanks," he responded while scratching the back of his head, standing in front of the stroller so they wouldn't see Liliana. "A lot of things happened."
"Where the hell did you go, dude?" probed Pompelmo, his volume not lowering. "You just left after graduation. Your family came asking around too. Wait till they see how much you're changed."
"I mean, it's been two years… Wait, what do you mean my family was looking for me? I haven't seen them in thirteen years."
The family who abandoned him without a goodbye when his parents died? The family who could not bother to raise him? The family that never visited his lonely self in the orphanage? That didn't sound right. More than a decade later they decided to care?
"They were asking around and everything," Pompelmo answered. "You really haven't seen them in that long? They acted like they've known you forever."
"They're lying," he said through gritted teeth. "I can't believe it."
"Is this part of the reason for your change in appearance?" asked Uva, her head gesturing to the baby obliviously to the turmoil occurring in front of her.
Pompelmo finally shut up. He looked at the stroller with wide eyes before looking back at Abbacchio. Words failed to escape his lips. What a rare sight to see him in a state of shock.
"What's his name?" spoke Uva.
" Her name is Liliana," Abbacchio corrected. "I wanted to take her around my hometown for the day."
"Shit, this means everyone lost the bet," Pompelmo said when he finally found his voice.
"Bet? What bet?"
"Oh… well… me and the guys bet on who in the graduating class would become a parent first, and no one picked you."
"Are you fucking kinding me?" Uva said with disbelief. "You are so immature."
"Wait, is she why you left Salerno?"
"No, I just couldn't be here anymore," Abbacchio answered honestly. "Too many painful memories. I wanted to start somewhere fresh. And please, don't tell my family about Liliana. I don't want them knowing about her."
After going away from Naples for the day to forget the recent past, he did not want to face his lengthy past. Pompelmo and Uva didn't need to know about his failure of a police career. Their presence didn't necessite to know about Liliana either, but hiding her while she was with him was impossible.
The least he could do to reassure her safety is to assure that his family was unaware of her existence.
"Yeah, we can definitely do that, right Pompelmo?" Uva reassured, directing a glare toward Pompelmo.
"Uh, yeah, definitely," he meekly answered. "By the way, Leone, your kid is pretty cute."
"Thanks, I really mean it," Abbacchio said with a rare smile which quickly flattered when familiar whines entered his ears. "Speak of the devil."
Abbacchio unbuckled his squirming daughter from her stroller and lifted her into his arms. He felt a weight on the lower side of her body. Well, that was not going to be fun to deal with.
"Wow, Leone," Pompelmo spoke up again, leaning forward to get a better look at Liliana. "I didn't know you were into Brown chicks."
"Pompelmo!"
In his second year of high school, Abbacchio befriended a foreign-exchange student from the United States. One day, while smoking cigarettes on the boardwalk, he commented on how different the school structure was in Italty – primarily that it was too complicated and how he didn't realize he was in a classics school until the first day – but one remark stuck out.
"Italians tend to be very blatant with their racism."
At the time, he shrugged it off. He had some openly bigoted classmates, but he always paid them no mind.
But to hear such words from someone he was once friendly with to describe his infant daughter was beyond unexpectable. Abbacchio could feel his face going red.
"You know what, Pompelmo? You can forget you ever saw me."
Abbacchio refused to make eye contact with his former colleagues. A wheel of the stroller ran over Pompelmo's foot, making in yelp in pain. Good. He deserved that.
"Leone, wait!" Uva called after him.
"I need to take care of my daughter,"Abbacchio yelled back, rubbing Liliana's back to distract her from the loudness. "I hope you both have fulfilling lives."
There was a park nearby that was mostly empty. Some were walking the paths to get some exercise before their lunch breaks ended. Patches of grass were unoccupied, perfect for father and daughter.
"Shit, Lili, I'm really sorry about that," he comforted once her diaper was changed, wiping her stray tears to fully calm her. "You don't deserve that. I can't believe he said that…"
He held his daughter in a tight embrace as tears uncontrollably fell down his face. She looked up at him so innocently, unaware of how difficult her life may be."
"I'm so sorry. You'll have to deal with jerks like that for your entire life. I wish I could stop them. You don't deserve this."
Sometimes he wished that Elisabetta was co-parenting with him. She could accurately explain the experience of being part of a minority for Liliana and properly prepare her for situations she may encounter because of it.
But she wasn't here. Abbacchio knew that he was capable of explaining the intricacies of race and ethinicity to his daughter, but not now. He had to prepare himself for the inevitable conversation.
Liliana put her head in her mouth. Right, she was a six-month-old with no concept of prejudice. The day her pure innocence went away would be heartbreaking. Abbacchio would preserve that for as long as possible.
For now, Liliana was focused on her hunger. Once she was fed, she would be changed into a dress and give a visit to those she would never have the chance of meeting.
The cemetery was the same as it was when they first visited three months ago. This time, however, Abbacchio had a more homely set up. Liliana was now able to sit up without any assistance, so Abbacchio decided to bring a blanket for them to sit on.
"Liliana," Abbacchio said to get her attention while adjusting the bow in her hair. "You probably don't remember the last time we were here, so let me remind you. These graves belong to my parents, your grandparents."
The baby stared at the graves and then directed her gaze to her father. She grabbed his pants with her chubby fists and tugged.
"It's alright, principessa," he lightly rustled her hair to make her giggle. "I don't remember much of them, but I know they were nice. And I think…"
His trauma repressed the memories of his parents. Sometimes, he could smell the intricate spices of his mother's cooking, then placed himself on standing up on a chair to watch her make the most delicious meals. His father's warm laughter entered the scene, lifting his son into a hug. Mama would tell the boys to quiet down as the tickling sensation of Papa's mustache increased his feverish giggling.
Whether there were fights, fits of anger, or ignorant opinions were unknown. Fondness was the only feeling left behind.
"I know they would have loved you," he finally finished. "They would definitely be disappointed in me and maybe would have had mixed feelings about your arrival, but if they saw you after you were born, they would have fallen in love I'm sure of it."
Liliana bounced from her spot on the blanket, pointing at the headstones and babbling.
"Are you ready to talk to them? Alright."
Abbacchio stroked her back to settle her excitement. It was disappointing that she would never receive such affection from her nonno and nonna, but if he could preserve what little memories he had and let Liliana peak in, then she could have a seblemence of what they were.
"Mama, Papa, sorry for waiting three months to come back. I've been really busy with Lili. Speaking of her, I finally got her full name documented! Liliana Violetta Brunella Abbacchio. I know it's quite long, but she'll grow into it once she gets older. Oh! She learned to sit up all by herself recently. She can throw her toys too…"
It was a one-sided conversation in reality. To Abbacchio, it was reconnecting to the jewels among the rubble.
Translation Notes
Lampone - Strawberry
Pompelmo - Grapefruit
Uva - Grape
Coffee shops in Italy are referred to as "bars". I don't think many people know this, and since Abbacchio is a recovering alcoholic, I thought it would make him look like a terrible father if he brought his daughter to what readers would think is a bar.