A Promessa

Muta

Alessio has a gift for his daughter.

To clarify, Giulia is mute, but not hearing-impaired.

—*—

At six years old, Giulia did not speak. No matter how much Alessio, Pietro, or anyone pointed at an object and repeated its name, she would not say a word. She would stare intently and touch it, however. At first, they thought she might be hearing-empaired, but her reaction to noises thankfully proved them wrong. Alessio took her to different doctors, but no one could find a medical explanation for her muteness. Part of him was sad at the outcome. He'd thought that Giulia might have gotten Bianca's beautiful singing voice.

Despite her disability, Giulia always found ways to express herself—pulling on people's pants to call their attention, bringing her father a storybook when she wanted a bedtime story, or writing down on paper. No matter how small, every gesture or action was a clue as to what she was feeling. It's just a matter of paying attention.

A little hand tugged on his pants, prompting Alessio to look down. He smiled.

"What's up, bambina? Can't sleep?" Giulia shook her head, prompting Alessio to pull her into his lap. "I guess you're excited about your birthday, aren't you? It's not every day that you turn six, after all. How are your lessons with Quint going, by the way?"

Recently, Giulia's been learning sign language from Quint as a clearer way of communicating without depending on pen and paper, prompting the rest of the family to study some of it too. His daughter made some gestures and signs with her hands before pointing at his bedside table. Alessio followed her arm with his gaze and realized she was pointing at Bianca's photo.

"You want to hear another story about your mamma?" he inquired, to which Giulia nodded eagerly. Alessio smiled and ruffled his daughter's dark curls. "Have I ever told you how I met your mother?"

Giula shook her head.

"A few years ago, I went to the Òpera with Crimson. I'd never been fond of it up to that point, but it's part of my job to accompany the boss in social gatherings and ensure he doesn't get hurt. Usually, I wouldn't pay much attention to the performance because I was always looking for potential threats. That time, however...."

Alessio glanced at one of the frames on the wall. Rather than a portrait, it had a poster of Tosca. Bianca, holding a white rose, was painted in the center. His mind returned to that day as he narrated the story to his daughter. How a beautiful, almost heavenly voice had caught his attention. How his curiosity got the better of him, and he looked at the singer. How, that first time he saw Bianca, he thought he was looking at a fallen angel in all of her splendor.

"...I swear, I couldn't take my eyes off her the entire time she was on stage. And her voice... I just... I don't know how to explain it, but... It almost felt like she sang for me even though we'd never met."

Giulia opened her mouth, but only a raspy, barely audible sound came out of her throat. She tried again, but nothing changed as hard as she tried. The sight broke his heart.

"Hey, hey, stop that. Bambina," Alessio lifted his daughter's chin to look into her eyes. "Don't push yourself too hard. You heard the doctor: you'll speak at your own time."

Giula looked down, sniffling.

Alessio thought for a moment. Would it be okay if he gave it to her now...? Oh, what the hell. It's just a few hours until her birthday.

"I got something for you, bambina." After placing Giulia on the bed, Alessio went to the wardrobe and looked for an old box. He ran a forlorn hand on the lid before bringing it back to his daughter.

Giulia inched closer as he removed the lid. Inside was a round white seashell with small holes on the top.

"Your mamma left it for you. I was going to give it to you when you were a bit older, but...." Alessio carefully slipped the shell flute out of the box. "This is an ancient seashell that her mother gave her long ago." Smiling, he handed it over to his daughter. "If you hold it to your ear and listen carefully, you'll hear the song of the sea."

Giulia examined the shell and raised it to her ear. Her face lit up.

"Oh, you heard it? I never could." Alessio chuckled as he picked Giulia up. "Well, bambina, it's time to go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow."

Giulia snuggled into his embrace, hugging the shell all the way to her room. He almost didn't want to tuck her in. She was hugging the shell as if it were a stuffed bear.

Alessio leaned down and kissed his daughter's forehead. "Sogni d'oro, amore mio."

Quietly, he left the room, glancing one last time to see his daughter closing her eyes with a smile.