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‘Er,buongiorno. Il mio bambino è malato,’ I said, reading from the piece of paper. The lady on the other end of the line started babbling away. ‘Parla inglese?’ I added desperately.
The only word I understood was that she didn’t.
She babbled some more, at 100 miles per hour, I think asking me questions, but my mind went blank. She could have been speaking Japanese for all I knew.
‘Hello? I mean,Ciao? Ciao?’
Then I heard the dialling tone. She’d put the phone down on me.
So rude. What was with some of the people in this town? I’d been to many cities in Italy and everyone had been nice. But here, they seemed really unfriendly.
I was fuming.
And then it hit me.
I’d let things get out of control. Become too dependent. Without knowing the language, I needed Lorenzo for everything. Along with Google Translate, he’d become my crutch. I couldn’t read a local newspaper, watch the national news or buy basic things in the supermarket without them.
Well, this time I had no choice. I had to stand on my own two feet. I dressed Leo, put him in his buggy, dragged on my coat and rushed out of the door. I was going to the doctor’s and would try to explain with miming or sign language, whatever it took, what was wrong with him. I’d just have to hope I could understand them and that he’d be okay.
Then I needed to make this taking lessons thing a top priority. It wasn’t the receptionist’s fault that she didn’t speak English. It was mine. We were in Italy, so the onus was onmeto learn Italian.
It was ridiculous that I’d let it get this far. I’d heard that sometimes it was easy to feel like you’d lost some of your identity after becoming a mum, but this was out of hand. Where had fiercely independent Sophia Huntingdon gone? She would never have become so reliant on other people. Even with a million balls to juggle, she would have found a way to get to grips with the language. And she’d address all of her other issues too.
Finally!
Reasanna, the voice of reason who often came into my head, suddenly piped up.
I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up and smell the coffee. Should have been a lot sooner considering you’re living in Italy.
Yep. I’d buried my head in the sand for too long. No more of this half-hearted wishy-washyness.
If I could learn a language and go and live in France by myself when I was twenty, I must be able to learn another language in my forties. My mind wasn’t as fresh, so it would be a challenge, but I had to at least try.
I’d made a commitment to living here, so I needed to go all in. Really make an effort to make it work.
My relationship, my sanity, my happiness and little Leo’s health depended on it.
