For the children

    Jenna considered herself the best mom of all of her neighborhood. As a matter of fact, her children had given her various “awards” throughout the years with the labels “best mom”, “greatest mommy” and others. She had left her career in real estate to say at home and take care of her children but when her Andy reached the age of five, she decided it was time to go back to work, at least part time.

 Her boss asked her repeatedly if she was certain about it and she always said she was very sure of it. Every morning, she would take her two children Andy and Veronica (who was three years old) to the daycare center. Then, she would work until the clock hit two o’clock. She would pick up her children at that time and would normally take them for food shortly afterwards.

 The meal of choice was always fast food. It did not matter if it was hamburgers, chicken nuggets, chili fries, subs or, sometimes, ice cream. Her mother thought she spoiled them too much but she did not think so. To be honest, she took them to those places for them to be happy, as every time she picked them up, they would be rather sad. She had no idea why and didn’t have time to wonder why.

 Jenna’s husband worked in a multinational company, selling various electronic devices to retailers all around the world. This meant he was rarely at home and almost had no chance to spend time with his wife. To be honest, Jenna had not had any sex with her husband since she had been pregnant with Veronica. That was a long time to spend without a kiss or a caress. But she was no saint…

 Sometimes she would be late to pick up her children, for reasons no one but her knew. Jenna would always compensate her absentmindedness by buying candy and more food and toys to her children. And they seemed to like it so there was no real harm in it. Besides being late, she would sometimes scream and them. She would never hit them or anything but she had to let out some steam somehow, especially when her husband called her to say he would be staying two more weeks in some country she didn’t even knew.

 That was Jenna’s life: she did what she thought was right, trying desperately to mend a life that had turned against her, or so she felt. One day she cried especially hard because she realized something that hurt her and no, it wasn’t that her husband was cheating. That she had known for many years and was the main reason she refused to be touched by him. What she realized was that she didn’t like her children. They made her feel trapped in a life that wasn’t he one she had thought for herself all those years ago, when she was and felt young.

 However, in her office, she worked with a man called Vincent. He was a very clean man, very thorough with every assignment he did. He didn’t like Jenna very much. To be honest, he didn’t really like anyone in the office. It wasn’t that he didn’t like people; he just didn’t like them. He had many friends out of work and enjoyed spending time with them although some conversations with them proved to be difficult. With time they got easier but there was always some kind of “awkward factor”.

 When he was younger, Vincent had to be sent to psychologist because his behavior was “strange”, according to his father. According to him, his son had never been with a woman and he was already twenty-two years old. He even went on to say that if he were gay, it would have happened earlier but nothing. Vincent and the doctor had many sessions until he realized he was asexual, which meant he didn’t feel any sexual desire for any gender.

 This revelation was obviously hard on his parents but was even harder to accept by Vincent. He knew it beforehand but the appearance of a word that describe who he was, made him think a lot of other things: would he ever have a family, for example? Was love always linked to sexual desire? The doctor had said he could have meaningful romantic relationships with whomever he wanted but now that seemed just a nice phrase to make him feel better.

 By the time he had gotten the job in the real estate office, he had realized that the doctor had been right. A year into his arrival at the job he had met a very nice woman called Rita. She was beautiful and brave and funny. She was simply everything he loved about people but summed up in a single person. They would spend many nights together, talking about various subjects that interested both of them. Their first kiss was difficult but he was able to overcome it.

 She knew about him being asexual and assured him she was fine with it. But after marrying and living together, they both felt they lacked something and that was a child. They couldn’t have him naturally for obvious reasons and when doing tests to make an “in vitro” fertilization, doctors informed Rita she was infertile. That came as a big blow to them, feeling unlucky and sad.

 They finally decided to adopt and discovered how difficult it could be. The agency they went to go through all of their history included their medical records. When asking about the psychologist sessions he had in his youth, Vincent told the agency he was asexual and that settled the matter for them. They told them they had a strong religious consciousness and couldn’t give children to people that “defied the model of what a family and a person should be”.

 Naturally, the couple was destroyed by this decision. They left the agency without speaking and knowing their relationship had encountered a large hurdle. Before they left, they saw a child playing in the gardens, maybe around ten years old. They smiled at him and then left on their car, never to come back again.

 That child’s name was Anthony. He had been under the care of the orphanage for a long time, since he was maybe four or five. He didn’t know all the details but he knew his mother was deemed unsuitable to have any children with her, so they took him away. He didn’t know if he had any brothers or sisters, he didn’t know if his mother was alive or his father had ever cared to find him but after so much time, the answer to that question was rather obvious.

 After playing in the garden with a bucket and a plastic shovel, he decided to go back inside, as dinner was only two hours away. He loved food and he loved to see how they did it. The ladies at the kitchens were very nice, although normally no child was let inside. They did exceptions all the time for Anthony, who loved to see how his favorite stew was made. He also loved the sounds of the machines, the chopping of vegetables and the gorgeous scents that filled the place.

 When he lay down in bed at night, in a room with at least five other kids, he often thought of food first and then he daydreamed about a family that would someday come for him. The older ones in the orphanage teased him sometimes, and told him he was already too old to be considered for adoption, as couple always preferred small children who they could raise for themselves.

 Anthony knew this was true because he had seen many of the young ones leave but he rarely saw an older kid do the same. But nevertheless, he was full of hope. Maybe his mother didn’t love him enough to keep him or maybe he was better off without her. That wasn’t important. But he knew he would love someone to teach him how to cook, to take him to school and to play with every day.

 Adults were strange all over, that much he knew. But he also thought that some of them were very nice, like the kitchen ladies. So every night he would dream about the family that would come for him. He always saw two people in his dreams but they never had defined faces or traits. They were just there, loving him in his dreams, been warm and making Anthony feel that, at last, he had a home. And that he was loved and was important to them.

Wasteland

   They had been walking for at least two hours, without taking a break or dropping the rhythm of their movement. They were only four people, all dirty on the faces, their clothes a bit ragged, their shoes all broken. The group kept on walking until they reached a group of large rocks, enough for them to hide from anyone coming from any direction. Inside the rock group there was sort of a clearing and a soft surface. They finally stopped walking, dropping their bodies hard against the rock.

They were two men, both around thirty years old, a woman of the same age and a child about ten years old. They all rested, laying down like starfish on the hard surface. It was late in the afternoon, so the shadow made by the rocks was perfect to avoid being toasted by the sunlight. One the men opened a backpack he had being holding. He extracted a water bottle and took a sip. He gave it to the others, who drank hastily, as if thy knew they wouldn’t have the chance to drink any liquids again

No one spoke, maybe because they wanted to keep their few energies to use them on something more worth it or maybe because there was nothing to be talking about. The truth was both reasons were accurate. What could you say when you’ve seen so many people killed, when you’ve escaped death by nothing more than a few seconds? Nothing, that’s what. The group lay down and didn’t move until it was almost night. It was the two men who got out of the small clearing, into the terrain outside.

It was clear they were in a desert or at least near one. The rocky surface on which they stood was covered, in some parts, by a thin layer of sand and other bright particles. One of the men, the taller one, went to the edge of the rock formation and stared at the horizon: he couldn’t see any light except the first stars appearing on the sky. He sighed in relief as that meant no one had followed them. The reason was of no interest; as long as they were safe the reasons could wait to be known.

The other man, some centimeters shorter, climbed the rocks steadily but making a sort of a grin as he did it. It was clear he was in pain, as with each step he let some air out. When he reached the top of that smooth hill, he was suddenly victim of a cough attack, in part because of what he had seen. He hit his chest a bit to clear his throat as he raises his head and so a never-ending desert past the hill. It wasn’t far at all and seemed to be larger than any ocean that the man had ever seen. This was good and bad, as it was a safe escape route but only because they exchanged a few dangers for other ones.

He turned around and joined the taller man. As he neared him, he realized the other one was crying. He wasn’t bothering to swipe the tears out of his face. He just crouched in the spot and cried in silence, staring at the horizon, which was now pitch black. The shorter one kneeled besides him and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Again, they didn’t say a word. This time too it was highly unnecessary to talk as everything they had gone through was beyond any word invented by men.

Some time afterwards, they penetrated the big boulders and found the woman and child sleeping. They looked at each other once and decided to join the others in the floor for a sleep. It took them almost an hour to feel the drowsy and to finally fall asleep. When they woke up the next morning, it seemed to be early still, as a cold wind blew over them. The shorter man stepped out of the boulders and took another look at their surroundings. Then, the first words spoken in that place for many years were heard:

Hunter! TO THE DESERT!

It took them only a couple of seconds to wake up and run out. They all stared at the horizon, were a cloud of dust could be seen, nearing the rocky hill they were standing in. It was clear their pursuers were still after them, restless. The shorter man turned around and walked uphill. They all followed fast. When they reached the top, they had to run down the other side. This had to be careful as many small rocks covered the hill. The woman actually fell and was helped up fast.

Once they reached the sandy bottom of the hill, they started to run, straight to the heart of the desert. It was difficult to run on sand, as it didn’t allow them to progress a lot. Nevertheless, they did it as if their lives depended on it and, actually, that was precisely true. As they ran more and more into the desert, they were all thinking exactly the same: they knew the hunters had no intention of entering that place as they knew people always died in there, never coming out on any side of the gigantic sea of sand.

But that was precisely the advantage they thought they had over the hunters. They were too busy hunting easier targets and chasing someone through a desert was not really worth it if they thought the desert and its lack of everything could kill them faster than they could. So when an hour had passed and the small group was already exhausted, they looked back for a moment: the hunters were at the edge of the desert, on a jeep, and appeared to be thinking what to do. Then, they did something no one thought they would ever do: they got out a missile launcher and pointed in their direction. Now, it was the tall guy who yelled:

RUN! RUN!

And they did but the missile had already been launched. It hit the soft desert surface and blew sand everywhere, forming a small storm in the spot. They were all thrown forward, over some small dunes and hitting the sand hard. The jeep turned around and the hunters left, as the small group began to regroup. The short guy had been spared of any injury but as he ran to the tall one, he realized he had been lucky. The other man lied in the ground, panting. His right arm had been burned, from elbow to shoulder.

The kid was crying, not far. He looked good, not injured besides some scratches. But it was the woman that did not seem very well. She was panting too but wasn’t sitting or standing up. She coughed and the kid screamed. The short guy neared him and realized the woman was very badly injured: one arm and one leg were broken. Her face had been badly burned and, as they look at her, she stopped breathing. The kid had stopped his crying but resumed it once he realized what had happened. The thing here was she wasn’t his mother but had acted like one for many days.

The tall guy had crawled next to them, just as the other one had closed the woman’s eyes. Again, he spoke very softly, as if he didn’t want to disturb the woman’s peace.

We have to bury her beneath the sand. Vultures won’t be long.

And he was right because, as they excavated the sand and put the body in there, several shadows began to circle them from above. When they finished, the birds landed close by, as if they needed to verify if there was a dead body among them. They had covered her in a lot of sand and hoped no storm would uncover the body. They didn’t mind the birds as they started walking through the desert, now slower than before.

When night fell, they sat close from one another and tried to light a fire with a lighter and some paper they had on the backpack but they weren’t successful at all. The cold was awful and only the kid fell asleep fast, surely because he was so tired. The short man decided to clean the other’s wound with a bit of water and told him, whispering to his ear, that he would need to get the burnt skin scraped of to let new skin grow. He agreed and stood up instantly. The kid didn’t felt as they walked away, behind a dune. The short guy moistened the paper he had tried to set on fire and advised the tall guy to bite something. He took of a shoe and put it in his mouth.

The screams could have woken a whole town, or so it seemed. But no one was near to hear it. The kid woke up but didn’t move, deciding to stare at the stars and remembering his family and all that had happened before then. As he heard the disheartening screams, he realized he didn’t remember his mother nor is father or any other relatives. He felt he had been running for years but realized that couldn’t be true. He fell asleep realizing he heard nothing anymore and feeling alone and hopeless.

Behind the dune, the two men were hugging. The arm had been properly scraped and it bled a bit. The man held it high as he had his nose in the other man’s hair. Then, in a raspy and sad voice, he said:

What are we going to do? – He sighed. Tears filling his eyes – I’m tired…

The other one gave him a gentle kiss on the lips and cleaned his eyes of tears.

We’ll keep living. They won’t finish us. We’re not dead yet.

And then they hugged tighter and the pain on the man’s arm wasn’t as strong as the one in his heart and soul.

Signore Mazzanti

Fyodor Mazzanti, was born to an odd couple: an italian father and a russian mother. He was born in Kazan in 1916, but a year after his family fled to the west. They eventually came back to his father's hometown, Laurenzana, locate in southern Italy.

The kid, born between communism and fascism, grew up with a lot of love around: his mother, an only child, gave him all that she could, including a younger brother. His father always came from work with candies or toys.

Lorenzo, his brother, and him, grew up happy. That was the most important. But their parents suddenly became enthralled by the governing party in the country. Soon enough, they were attending rallies and supporting causes they did not fully understand.

When he turned eighteen, he had the chance to leave the country to study and their parents wanted him to go to Berlin. They said the german language was the future and that he and Lorenzo should know all about it.
But Fyodor felt his place was in Italy, as his love for this country, his adoptive one, grew exponentially since he was a little boy. He wanted to study history or art. His parents finally accepted his decision and he went on to live alone in small flat above a bakery in Rome, in the Trastevere district.

Lorenzo turned eighteen the same year Italy entered the war against the Allies and he didn't let his parents say a word: he went to Sicily and boarded a ship from there, on to New York. Fyodor would only know about him until five years later.

The war ravaged the continent and it was worst for the Mazzanti family towards the end, when the allies bombarded cities all over Italy. Fyodor himself was saved by a lover, who kept him a little bit too long in her room, saving his life as a bomb hit his house.

In Laurenzana, his parents were safe and received the American troops by asking them how to get in touch with their son. No one knew how to help, as communications to the outside had been cut for months. And both mother and father suffered for the faith of their children.

As soon as the government fell, Fyodor travelled to his former house and found that no one was there. His family had disappeared, leaving no word or letter behind. He returned to Rome, finished his studies and went on to work with the Capitoline Museums. They were gathering a lot of damaged paintings and sculptures from every single part of the country.

He was happy for his job and now lived in a very nice house, near his first flat in the city. Every day he got to see great pieces of artwork. But at the same time, he thought of his family, the face of his mother when cooking a brilliant new dish, his father when carving a nice piece of wood and his brother Lorenzo playing with his favorite toy train.

He had looked for them all over, visiting Laurenzana often but he found very little information. A neighbor told him they had left after the American arrived, towards Sicily. Fyodor went to Palermo but the trail died there as no one knew if they had ever boarded a ship or if they had decided to go back.

Death was not an option, he thought. He felt of them as alive as every single moment he wasn't working, restoring old pieces in the museum or traveling for them, he went on to check every fact he knew about his parents and his brother.

He had even visited New York a couple of times, looking for his parents. He knew that was useless as many immigrants had changed their names when arriving through Ellis Island but he insisted without success.

Fyodor grew bitter because of this. His family had given him so much love as a child and then they just vanished. He was a grown man but he missed them all and not knowing anything about what had happened, was just heartbreaking.

It had affected his love life too. Women grew tired of trying to make him fall in love with them as he never paid much attention. His work was the thing that distracted him from the pain of having been left alone. Besides, he was afraid that if he had a child, he would do the same. He couldn't think of breaking someone into pieces like that, he just didn't want to do what his parents did to him.

In 1978, after more than thirty years on the job, he finally decided to step out to give room for a new generation. His eyesight was everything for him and now he was slowly loosing it. The staff of the museum made a party, with cake and champagne and all kinds of songs and music. It was the first time in years that he cried, in public no les. People thought it was because of his job, but that wasn't the cause.

During those years he had a dog called Caesar. A gray great dane that just loved him. As tall and strong as he had always being, it was the perfect pet for Fyodor.

Now, with all the time in the world, he decided to try one last time and he looked for the help of an institution to track down his family. He gave them all the information he had and they told him to be patient, to wait and that sometimes, nothing happened.

Fyodor waited for almost fifteen years until a young woman called Maria, called him to tell him she had found his file and that she had been investigating. She had found her brother. When he asked about his parents, she said they had died years ago in California.

Weak but now on the verge of finally getting answers, he flew to San Francisco and, with Maria, visited the cemetery were his parents were buried. He cried and cried, kneeling and just crying, without saying a word. Maria could only stand there.

The day after that, they went to Las Vegas. Lorenzo had become the owner of a fast food restaurant chain and now was retired in a house on the outskirts of Las Vegas.
They hugged and cried together and Maria smiled, as she was happy to reunite family.

Fyodor went back to Rome after a week and asked Lorenzo to visit him sometime.

Just a few weeks after that, he went to take a stroll around his neighborhood with Caesar. They sat in a park bench and watched people go by. And he then fell asleep. And died there, finally at peace.