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Three minutes. It was only three minutes that he turned his back to answer the call from his boss; but when he hung up, he couldn’t find his daughter among all the children in the park.
Weird, he had left her by the swings, Doppio thought, walking around the playground, amid the kids. Maybe she was inside the slide and would come out at any moment. Doppio crouched down and poked his face into the plastic tunnel.
“Trish!” he called, and the squeak of skin against the slide reassured him for a second, but at the end of the slide’s mouth appareared another child. “Trish?!” He called again, but no one answered.
Doppio let out an uneasy sigh and decided to climb the jungle gym to see if he could spot her. However, none of the children swinging on the monkey bars was her. Okay, now maybe he was worried. He turned to the seesaws, looked over the faces of the children climbing the playground equipment… Nothing.
The increasing worry was combined with an anger that took some of the responsibility away from him. "Don't move from where daddy can't see you, ok?" he had told her, but apparently Donatella hadn't bothered to teach her to listen. Then the rage turned on his boss, who well knew that this was his day off; the only one of the week in which he could see his daughter. Although at the end of the day the fault was entirely his. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off her for a second. No phone call was more important than Trish.
Tapping his feet nervously on the ground, he pulled out his phone. There was a photo of Trish eating ice cream in the gallery that he had taken just half an hour ago. Cell phone in hand, he approached the parents who were watching—as one should—their children.
"Excuse me, have you seen this little girl? I turned around for a moment and now I can't find her…”
Despite his nerves, he tried to smile, because to give way to panic was to admit that something was wrong, terribly wrong, and he still didn't want to accept it. All the adults shook their heads, they hadn't seen anything. All except a mother rocking a baby stroller, and she pointed the way down the hill that the playground was on.
"I think I saw her go that way."
"Oh, thank you, thank you very much!"
Doppio wasted no time as he strode toward the bottom of the hill. He cursed for a moment that he had chosen the most beautiful day of the year to take Trish to the park. There were people everywhere. If a kidnapper could act in broad daylight-…No! Doppio interrupted the thought. Everything was fine. He would find Trish and she would be so grounded.
"Trish!" he called again, but no one answered.
He walked. No. He ran, calling his daughter and stopping strangers to show them pictures of her. They said they hadn’t seen her, and Doppio left them with the words in their mouth, because he turned immediately to continue looking for her, trying to sharpen his sight, despite the fact that the tears in his eyes were preventing him from seeing clearly.
He thought about having to make that first call to Donatella. "I can't find Trish," he would tell her. No, he couldn't just say it like that. “Listen, we have to stay calm. I'll call the police and I'm sure everything will be fine. I'm so sorry, Dona. I was an idiot." He already had the phone to his ear and it rang twice without Donatella picking it up. At that moment, his ears caught a voice that he recognized as his little girl's, and along with it, the strumming of a guitar.
"Hello-?" Donatella answered on the other end of the line, but Doppio hung up to follow the origin of the music.
Under a tree by the side of the trail, Trish was sitting safely on the grass. Doppio felt his soul returning to his body. Picking up his pace, he picked Trish up off the floor to hug and kiss her. The guitar ceased abruptly.
“My God, Trish! You scared me to death! Why did you leave without me? Don't do that again, miss!”
"Sorry, daddy," the girl managed to say, her face pressed against Doppio's chest.
In his relief, Doppio hadn't even been interested in the stranger accompanying his daughter, until the man put aside his guitar and stood up. Doppio had to raise his eyes a few inches up if he didn't want to look directly at the man's pecs. A feeling of vertigo suddenly washed over him; not only because of the stranger's height, but because of how handsome he was, as he looked back at him with parted lips.
Doppio had no idea that in the light that filtered through the leaves, he looked like the image of a weeping madonna with the child in his arms. Fresh tears filled Doppio's huge eyes with shimmer, and the stranger was speechless, wounded by an arrow he didn't see coming.
Doppio took a couple of steps back at the man's silence.
"Daddy, it's Mr. Nero!" Trish exclaimed with a smile.
Doppio knew that name. Every week, Trish would come with a new song that Mr. Nero had taught her, and she would sing it all the time: in the bath, when he brushed her hair, before she went to sleep. Okay, maybe he should pick up Trish from kindergarten more often, Doppio thought, suddenly troubled by the first impression he had made on his daughter's handsome teacher.
Doppio wiped away a tear, smoothed his hair, which was a little messed up from running around a few minutes ago, and tried to regain his composure.
"I-I'm Doppio. Trish's dad," he spoke at last, holding out a sweaty hand to greet him.
The stranger's big, warm, ringed hand firmly clasped Doppio’s back, and held it for a moment.
"Risotto," he clarified, "I'm still not used to Mr. Nero…" the shy smile that appeared on his lips brought down the image of the tough guy he projected at first.
“My pleasure. Sorry to look crazy, but this little lady was lost for a moment and she gave me the scare of my life…” he explained, pinching his little girl's cheek.
“Trish was chasing a butterfly when I ran into her. It seemed strange to me that she was alone, so I sat down to wait for someone to come looking for her. I thought I would see her mom…”
“Oh no, no. She’s with me today. You know, divorced parents.”
Why the hell did I say that? Did I seriously just announce my marital status to the teacher? Doppio felt that it would be an act of divine mercy if the earth suddenly opened up to swallow him. He managed to smile through the embarrassment as Mr. Nero nodded politely; though concealing his relief at knowing Doppio wasn't married.
"Mr. Nero was teaching me a new song," the girl added, inadvertently rescuing the two adults from the awkward silence that suddenly reigned between them.
"Really?" Doppio brushed a lock of hair behind Trish's ear. "You'll have to teach me that song too, princess." Returning his eyes to Mr. Nero, he continued, "Thank you so much for staying with her.”
“Of course! Let's hope Trish doesn't disobey Dad again, right?” She shook her head with a serious expression. "Good girl."
There was nothing more to talk about, but neither Doppio nor Mr. Nero wanted to say goodbye yet.
"So... have you been teaching music for a long time?" Doppio asked him.
"To preschoolers? Yes. To older people, no.”
“Do you like it? I mean, I have one child and you see how well I handle her. I can't imagine what it's like to handle an entire class.”
“I love teaching children. And since they are afraid of me at first, they pay attention. If I have to get serious, in two seconds they calm down. Right, Trish?”
The girl nodded.
“Sometimes Narancia won't stop talking and Mr. Nero stops playing the guitar. So when we all turn to look at him, he shuts up.”
The two adults shared a soft laugh.
"And how is she behaving?" Doppio asked, looking at Trish with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, Trish is wonderful. She loves to stay at recess talking to me. I think she has a good ear for music.”
"I’ve thought about singing lessons for her. She doesn't stop humming all day. She's my little songbird,” Doppio declared proudly.
Doppio tickled Trish, who giggled and tried to shake her dad's fingers off her. Mr. Nero looked delighted at the sweet fatherly energy that this young man emanated effortlessly. He now understood where Trish had gotten her charm from, the hair color and the freckles that multiplied the longer he stared at her face.
“I also give private lessons. If you're interested…I mean, for Trish.” The teacher's deep, confident voice cracked for a moment, making Doppio smile.
“You know? It's not a bad idea.”
Risotto reached down to pick up his gig bag and pulled out a crumpled sheet music and a pen that he uncapped with his teeth. He quickly wrote down his number and handed it to Doppio with a shaky hand. Whoever knew Risotto Nero, would know that it was not his style to act this impulsively.
"O-oh…" Doppio stared at the paper with wide eyes, in disbelief.
“Text me if you decide on the classes,” the teacher hurried to say, “Just tell me you're Trish's dad and I'll remember you.”
Doppio didn't know if the adrenaline still running through his body had altered his senses too much, but he was sure he wasn't imagining Mr. Nero's eyes on him, carefully watching his reaction. Suddenly Doppio forgot how he had come to this. A few minutes ago he had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and now he had the number of a guy who had not only taken care of his girl, but also could carry him without problems with those beefy arms full of tattoos.
"Daddy, I'm hungry," Trish suddenly whined, and Doppio remembered that he couldn't just give in to his fantasies in the middle of a park.
"Oh yeah. It's time to eat… Do you still want a Happy Meal?"
"Yes! Yes!"
Mr. Nero slung his guitar over his shoulder, getting ready to leave.
"See you," he said with the certainty that this wasn't the last time they were going to see each other.
"See you later," Doppio repeated. "And thanks again."
“Goodbye!” Trish said as she waved her little hand.
"Be a good girl and listen to dad,” the teacher said before turning around and walking in the opposite direction from them.
On their way to the car, Doppio decided to take one last look at Mr. Nero, who seemed to have had the same idea. The teacher immediately averted his eyes from him, pretending to look at something in the sky. Doppio had an excuse to do so too when he felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. The screen showed Call from DONATELLA.
“Hello?” Doppio picked up in his most casual voice, as he tried to hide the full range of emotions he was going through.
"You called me. Is everything alright?"
"Did I? Probably the phone was unlocked in my pocket. How odd."
"Mommy, daddy was crying," Trish said out loud. "We saw Mr. Nero in the park too!"
"It's the pollen," said Doppio hastily. "And the weather is very dry," he added with a sniffle that allayed his ex-wife's doubts.
Donatella fell silent, and then, from the sound of her voice, Doppio could hear a mischievous smile on her lips.
“Mr. Nero, eh?” And lowering her voice, she continued, “He's hot, right?"
"Dona!"
Doppio could imagine Donatella raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to be completely honest with her. He sighed:
"Yeah, he's handsome," he admitted in a whisper so Trish wouldn't repeat it.
"Right?!"
"And he gave me his number," Doppio added, maybe to brag about it, but also excited to be able to tell someone else.
“You bastard!” Donatella exclaimed in disbelief, and she burst out laughing.
"Sssssh! Trish will hear you.”
"Sorry, sorry, but I need to know what happened."
"I'll tell you later."
"You better!"
"I'm hungryyyy!" Trish cried.
"Let's go, honey," Doppio reassured her and, after saying goodbye to Donatella, he finally put Trish on the ground and kept an eye on her so he wouldn't lose her again. "A race to the car? On the count of three…two-"
"One!" Trish shouted before time and started to run.
“Hey, you cheater!” He ran after her, and it didn't take long for him to catch her up so he could blow raspberries on her belly until they reached the car.
Once he sat Trish in her car seat and strapped the seat belt, Doppio took out the keys to start the car, and the piece of sheet music with the nervously scribbled numbers fell at his feet. Doppio hurried and picked it up to put it in his shirt pocket, over his heart.