The Story of the Lost Child (The Neapolitan Novels, #4)

by Elena Ferrante

“You want to continue with Nino?” I could hear her opposition and I almost shouted: “What can I do?” “The only thing possible: leave him.” For her it was the right solution, she had always wanted it to end like that, she had never concealed it from me. I said: “I’ll think about it.” “No, you won’t think about it. You’ve already decided to pretend it was nothing and go on.” I avoided answering but she pressed me, she said that I shouldn’t throw myself away, that I had another destiny, that if I went on like that I would lose myself. I noticed that she was becoming harsh, I felt that to restrain me she was on the point of telling me what for a long time I had wanted to know and what for a long time she had been silent about. I was afraid, but had I not myself, on various occasions, tried to urge her to be clear? And now, had I not come to her also so that finally she would tell me everything? “If you have something to tell me,” I said, “speak.” And she made up her mind, she looked at me, I looked down. She said that Nino had often sought her out. She said that he had asked her to come back to him, both before he had become involved with me and after. She said that when they took my mother to the hospital he had been particularly insistent. She said that while the doctors were examining my mother and they were waiting for the results in the waiting room he had sworn to her that he was with me only to feel closer to her. “Look at me,” she whispered. “I know I’m mean to tell yo...