Meanwhile, the months passed, and the winter season began to grow milder, almost serene, heralding a splendid spring. The winter had been harsh, marked by gales, freezing winds, sudden downpours, and equally abrupt drops in temperature. In Sicily, the island's inhabitants were not accustomed to such cold, and seeing it finally relent gave Belinda great hope. It had been a difficult winter for Azzurra as well, as she juggled rehearsals at the theater and dance school, English lessons, and her regular studies. At times, Belinda only saw her for brief moments between lunch and dinner—and to think the two were closer than ever! Bound as only a mother and daughter can be.
Belinda suffered from her daughter's "absence," saying to Elia with misty eyes: "I know I have to be the strong mother and that my job is to help her grow, which is why I can't keep her with me all the time... Lord, I'm rambling, I know, but I miss my baby girl." That very evening, returning from dance school, Azzurra ran onto her mother's bed just as she did when she was little. Crying, she said to Belinda, who was lying down to rest her kidneys: "Mommy, I miss you, we never see each other! Tomorrow I don't want to go to school, I want to stay with you!"
At her daughter's words, Belinda melted like butter in the sun. She hugged and kissed her, giving her a thousand embraces, and they stayed like that for more than half an hour, held in each other's arms, weeping for no reason—or perhaps simply because when love is too strong, it can only exit the heart through tears. It was a unique, magical, sacred moment between the two of them, interrupted by Elia, who entered the bedroom and, seeing the scene, said: "Vaddili, avemu i picciu?" (Look at them, are we having a cry-fest?) He laughed to break the tension and steal a smile from his princesses.
Belinda said to Azzurra: "My love, star of my life, if it were up to me I would keep you home forever, but I have to be a mother and my duty is to help you grow. I must send you into the world; I have no choice. Even though I miss you—and every morning when you leave I go into your room, make your bed, and tuck your pajamas under the pillow, kissing and blessing them every single day—you can't stay with me all the time, do you understand? Besides, tomorrow I have my appointment with the nephrologist; I'd prefer you go to school, okay sweetheart?"
After listening to her mother, Azzurra dried her tears and regained her composure, as if she had matured all at once. Nodding, she added: "Alright Mama, then tomorrow afternoon I will dance for you and I will think of you." Elia paid no mind to his daughter's words, thinking it was just typical mother-daughter talk and that Azzurra was simply saying something sweet to comfort her mother.
The following morning, the air was crystalline, scrubbed clean by the scirocco which had given way to a wisp of tramontana wind. Azzurra left for school, and in the afternoon, Belinda and Elia went to the clinic for her appointment with the nephrologist. Belinda sat in the waiting room, clutching her leather handbag. Beside her, Elia was unusually silent; he watched his wife's profile, noticing a radiance in her gaze he hadn't seen in years—one that, at the same time, unsettled him.
"Belinda, promise me that if the results are still stable, you'll accept that new protocol the head physician mentioned," Elia said, breaking the silence. "We can't rely on hope alone." Belinda smiled at him—a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Miracles aren't protocols, Elia. They are steps taken together."
Dr. Passantino welcomed them into his office. By now, the doctor had become a good friend to Elia; though they never saw each other outside the clinic, Elia called him often for advice regarding his wife. Passantino was a kind physician, deeply dedicated to his patients. He was not tall but was lean and muscular, with several tattoos—including one depicting the medical caduceus. He was a practical, blunt man, yet possessed great sensitivity. He always addressed Belinda with warm, cordial terms, reflective of someone who had established a bond of trust with their patient.
He had the blood tests in front of him. He read in silence until Belinda broke the quiet: "Doc, I feel like I have a Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. When I think about my health, I want to cry; I'm constantly afraid of getting worse."
He looked at them, smiling. "There you go, as usual, you don't give me time to speak. Looking at these tests, I can tell you that if you follow everything I say—with the supplements I'm giving you to keep your body healthy—there's nothing stopping you from remaining stable. Your creatinine levels will not worsen. You'll need blood tests every three months and you'll bring them to me so we can adjust our aim as we go, but you aren't in danger this way." He took off his glasses, cleaned them meticulously, and fixed his gaze on Belinda. "Once kidneys are compromised, they can't return to functioning perfectly like before, but if you follow my lead, you will see that you'll stay healthy."
Belinda and Elia breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Elia was speechless with joy, but Belinda felt a shiver run down her legs. In that moment, she knew that Azzurra was at the barre, training with those heavy pointe shoes that now harbored her mother's illness.
Returning home, the silence between the two was tense. Elia felt Belinda's secret slipping through his fingers, while Belinda felt a physical need to reach her daughter. Entering the house, they found Azzurra sitting on the veranda steps. She was pale, with deep dark circles under her eyes, but her hands were stroking her dance bag with devotion.
"Mama?" the girl asked in a thin voice. Belinda went to her and pulled her into an embrace that tasted of gratitude and terror.
"Azzurra... The lead is gone." Azzurra closed her eyes, leaned her head on her mother's shoulder, and sighed.