Aurora's Shadow

Chapter 1

From my bed, I look at the ceiling of my room, which has now become the weekend home. Like a bed and breakfast, with the difference that I don't have to pay. The bargaining chip is my health, whatever that means.

The sultry Saturday was identical to those of the last two months. The journey by car with my parents, both convinced that by coming to rescue me from the captivity to which they forced me, it helps to get closer; the breakfast I didn't want, the questions I would have avoided, their eyes unable to decipher the enigma, and the silent questions that emerge from their mind: "Why are you like that? How can you be the same child we held in our arms?".

Of all this story, the thing I find hard to digest is having to feel like an unwanted guest. They say that this isn't the case, but adults tend to fill their shortcomings, to atone for their sins, through compensatory acts. The creation of a happy family is their compromise, the prayers that the priest forces them to do to free their conscience. Second, in order of annoyance, is the fact that I have always liked summer. Living one step away from the beach, it was there that at night I went to listen to that sound that calmed me so much.

Now July is drawing to a close, and I haven't heard that sound for two months. Sure, I could go there on the weekend, but my parents decided not to lose sight of me for a moment. I can't even lock myself in the bathroom, let alone stay a few hours alone outside the home. It's humiliating, and I wonder how they don't understand it.

Even the ceiling I observe doesn't look the same. Before looking at it, I was looking for inspiration to write some diary pages, or I would show it the tears, certain that it would protect me. Now, on the other hand, I see only the apathetic white painting, just like that of the clinic. Yes, clinic, because although they persist in defining it as a center in which sincere relationships can be created, it's nothing more than a place in which to abandon an object. Like when you take a pair of shoes to a cobbler and go to get them when you're absolutely certain that they'll no longer cause damage to your feet. My parents sent me there because I was too uncomfortable, and they hope that I'll fit perfectly again, without hindering their steps towards a flat future, without any emotion or novelty.

I feel empty, not even the pain keeps me company.

The door handle slowly lowers. There she is, she came for the routine checkup. If I pretended to be asleep, I would avoid her return. If, on the other hand, I observed her, she would return on the next clock. The door opens, and I opt for the former. I hear my mother's footsteps approaching heavily, although she thinks she isn't making a noise. She brushes my forehead and I struggle not to move away. Then she whispers something incomprehensible, perhaps a prayer, and goes out just as she entered: secretly, afraid of having to observe me. I have to find a solution, I won't resist much longer.

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Here it is, the Sunday morning parade. The decorated table, the croissants from the nearby bar, the freshly squeezed juice, the glass glasses, and the inevitable coffee pot in the center, the undisputed queen of awakenings. My father and mother face each other at the head of the table, and I placed between them, wondering how much they expect me to eat.

«Hold Aurora. Do you also want some juice?»

My father asks, handing me a saucer with a croissant on it.

«No thanks, I prefer coffee.»

I don't even try to say that I have no appetite, I'm not allowed to fast. Three full meals a day, with no possibility of bargaining. If only I had more freedom...

«So, are you thinking about which school you would like to attend? You are missing a year now.»

There should have been two, but the professors, perhaps out of fear of retaliation, decided to grant me the fourth superior degree. I had tried to explain to my mother that I would be happy to repeat the year in a different school, but my idea wasn't even taken into consideration. As if leaving the scene in an ambulance wasn't enough, I also touched the figure of a "special girl", who doesn't need questions or enough votes to get through the year.

«Yes mom, I think I'll opt for the art school.»

«Do you want to go that far again?»

«Almost all the high schools are in the center of Messina. One goes the other.»

«You said well, almost. Nearby is the agricultural institute, all the children you grew up with go there.»

I was expecting this answer, but I don't know how to argue. I don't want to tell her the truth because she wouldn't like to hear it.

«I know it's more convenient, but maybe I've figured out what I'll want to do and I won't need agricultural materials.»

«Okay, we'll talk about it.»

«There isn't much to talk about. I want to go there.»

A disapproving look ensues, and I turn to my father to defuse the conflict.

«So dad, did you know if you're going to have to go on that business trip?»

Before answering, he turns to my mother, as if asking permission.

«I found I could avoid it. It concerns a refresher course, but it isn't the only one of the year. I'll be able to go in October when I think...» he stops. I hold back the annoyance, waiting for him to find the easiest way to get out of it.

«It'll certainly be a more comfortable journey. Moving in this heat isn't pleasant.»

I bite into the croissant to avoid answering. I lose the momentum almost immediately, suddenly placing the meal on the saucer. But when I regain composure, I realize that they're both watching me. I sip my coffee to save time, and also to help me swallow the unwanted bite. It's time for me to try to change, I'm tired of playing the role of lab rat.

«Is it that bad? Come on Aurora, try it.»

The encouragement of my father, in addition to increasing my anger, gives me yet another confirmation of what is the only way to escape from the spotlight: lies. I take another small bite, this time avoiding throwing the reflex croissant. I chew, chew, and chew my poison, knocking it down waiting for it to kill me. Another little bite, then one more and the next. Twenty minutes later, with my heart on fire, I finished breakfast.

«Would you like to take a walk this morning? It's such a beautiful day» says my mother, enthusiastic about my conquest. This is the first time in two months that I've succeeded, how to blame her.

«I'd like to look at something on the computer.»

«Come on Aurora, you have time for that during the week. I would come too, but I have to take care of some things» my father intervenes. This is why it's so important that I accept the proposal, they don't want to lose sight of me.

There comes a moment of rupture, an instant in which one must rebel against what isn't accepted. Up to now, I've indulged them and those who follow me, up to now I've accepted not to lie and to openly express my preferences. I only did it because I was asked to do so. But from my parents, I don't notice any changes, not even a minimum of dialogue. They believe that I'm crazy, that my beliefs are meaningless. They don't accept that I'm right, they don't ask themselves if what I claim is in turn supported by concrete facts. If they don't change, I don't see why I should. I've been thinking about it all night and my breaking point arrived this morning. From today I'll try in every way to be, for most of the time, the daughter they desire.

«Okay mom, walking is always good.»