I pick up my dress pumps and slide them on my feet. Funny, Laura didn’t mention any disturbances in the streets.
My phone buzzes; Micro is waiting with the car.
I grab my purse that has too many items in it and should be considered a health risk. I don’t have time to change it, so I head down the gorgeous staircase like I’m the woman of the house.
“Samira, good morning.”
She greets me. “Where are you going so early?”
“I have an interview at the hospital to work.”
“Work? Massimo takes care of you.”
“Yes, but I want something I can take pride in, and do something other than charity work, not that it’s bad, I just need to feel needed.” I choke back on tears that threaten to spill over my cheeks that my husband can be many things, but being a heartbreaker is his number one skill. Well, next to killing obviously.
Damn it... I love him so much my heart breaks that he can’t say it. Sure, he loves my body, but I’m more than a sex object.
“Well, good luck.”
“Thank you, I’ll see you in a few hours.”
She closes the door behind me.
It’s still raining, and Micro has an umbrella for me as he opens the car door.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” he says in Italian and gets in to drive me downtown. He gives me the approximate time it will take and I’m golden. Now if I can nail the interview, I should have a job helping kids.
Micro drives with patience, and if I wasn’t driven around most of my life it would be a bit annoying. Maybe it’s just that I’m in a pissy mood due to Massimo. I wonder what he had going on today.
Micro parks at the hospital and we enter, giving our identification and getting a pass in the form of a sticker on our shirt.
“I can’t remember what floor,” I flip through text from Massimo looking for the information.
“Third floor is children,” Micro hits the button.
“Thanks, how do I look?”
“Fantastic as usual.” He smiles.
We get off the elevator. “I’ll stand here, as the door is there,” he points down the hallway.
“Great. I really think I’m fine. Massimo is a stickler for security.”
“It’s good to be that way,” Micro agrees.
“Great, another soldier toeing the line.” I head towards the doorway for my meeting with, I look at the note in my phone, Mrs. Valeti.
When I get through the double wooden doors and see a handicap button to open them it makes me pause. This is a children’s wing. Why do they need handicap doors?
I push on through and I’m in the middle of a children’s play area. There are air hockey tables, an area for smaller kids with a pretend kitchen and floor games. It hits home that aside from living in my mansion that was a prison. These kids have their own prison, and it doesn’t resemble mine at all.
I’ve been so thoughtless all these years thinking about myself and what gala to go to that I’ve forgotten what real life is like for others. Others that aren’t healthy or wealthy.
These kids aren’t privileged, they have health issues, and this is their world. These are their four walls, just like my room in Sicily was my four walls.
“You must be Valentina.” A woman in her forties enters the room and shakes my hand I didn’t even put out.