The whirlpool had been switched off.
Giovanni returned to the kitchen, made sure to cover the dishes he had prepared, took a book and sat down near the tub, waiting for Damien to awaken.
A few minutes later, what Giovanni was expecting to come about happened, he looked up from the book he was reading and saw Damien open his mouth and say:
Its all right, everything is under control.
CHAPTER TWOPart one (Damiens power - introduction)
When Damien woke up from his sleep, he realized it was very late, being able to clearly see the pendulum at the end of the living room. The table in wild pear wood, placed in front of the large window, had been set. The courses were generally served without a tablecloth; Damien liked the feel of the natural wood under his hands. It was a table long enough to comfortably accommodate ten people, five in front of another five and it was always set with no one at the head of the table, (Damien believed that every diner was equal). It had been given to him by one of his dear friends from Armenia, to whom he had done a great favour.
Damien always sat viewing the garden covered by the pergola. Giovanni sat on the opposite side and, if Damien was on the right, Giovanni sat on the left. That evening, Giovanni had already dined and was only waiting for his friend to have a seat so he could serve him dinner.
The whole house had been renovated and furnished according to a meticulous design made by Damien. Every detail had a precise function and its own meaning. The most important elements of life were all represented in the house. Water, fire, earth, air and... The sacred.
The final element was represented by many well-placed objects, representing a particular religious belief. Damien respected each of these objects, but he didnt worship them. He knew their origin, history, meaning, and mystical power.
A large chandelier in Murano glass, hung over the dining area, made up of thousands of crystal droplets which sparkled with wonderful colourful effects. This was also a gift from another friend and anyhow, the whole house was full of objects sent to Damien from all over the world, donated by people who had received great favours from him.
The presence of these objects, some small but very valuable, others large and useful rather than precious, and all reminded Damien of the people they had belonged to and why they had been given to him. He was surrounded, in every corner of the house, by the soul of the person who had separated himself from that object.
They represented the spirit of sincere gratitude of the people he had helped.
If Damien could help someone, he asked in return for something that they were particularly fond of, that normally they would never give up. He never asked for money. This never. Damien had so much money at his availability, you couldnt even imagine how much! His family owned some oilfields in Tunisia and he was also a major shareholder of an energy company. However he didnt care to live in luxury. Certainly he had a beautiful home, but still it was just a small villa in Florence and not even in the centre. He had chosen to run a shop, selling items which at that time were met with fierce criticism by the tobacco lobby and as a result, he was burdened with very high taxation, as a deterrent. But whenever the road was difficult and uphill, Damien loved to tackle it, well aware of his extraordinary abilities and endowed by a particular power following a dramatic event.
So for Damien, the store was merely a façade.
He immediately fell for electronic cigarettes, as soon as they appeared on the Western market. His family used to smoke the hookah, rather than cigars or cigarettes. His grandfather was a pipe smoker and at home, Damien had many of them, inherited by the great old man.
Whenever Damien watched them, he remembered his grandfather who, while smoking them, deep in thought, began to speak in metaphors, stating some of the biggest truths of life Damien had ever heard.
As a child, he believed that his grandfather drew that wisdom from the aspiration of those pipes. For this reason he liked to think that these pipes were still impregnated with knowledge, wisdom and other virtues. Every now and then in the evening, when he felt drained of energy, he went to smell their scent; he stored them all in a large handmade terracotta bowl.
Damien stepped out of the tub. His robe was placed on a small reproduction of a Romanesque column with white marble of Carrara capitals, placed near the floor of the tub. Damiens body, naked, next to that column seemed the body of a gladiator. As he slipped on the dark bronze colour terry kimono, his movements showed off the muscles of his biceps and triceps, dorsal muscles, even his pectorals were well-defined and proportionate.
He trained his body every morning with the exercise equipment that he kept in the large wooden room in the garden, part of which he used as a sauna. He took care of his body and, although he had turned fifty-four years old a few months earlier, he had a youthful physique and smooth skin. The brown colour of his complexion, made it appear even more elastic than it already was.
He slipped on his leather flip-flops, walked to the table, while Giovanni was bringing in a tray of appetizers. It was Saturday night, so he deserved a special treatment.
Damiens chair, among the five arranged on one side and the other of the table, was the one with the highest backrest and with the armrests, carved from a master wood craftsman, who had made it look like a throne, with a seat made of padded crocodile skin. Of course, it was at the centre of the table. He used this throne only when he dined without guests and without Giovanni. Otherwise he sat on the same chair as the others.
The times he dined alone were always important and special moments. At last he could give all his attention to food and drinks, without having to focus his senses towards his guests, which assumed the most important role, and he entrusted Giovanni with the cooking responsibilities.
Did I already mention that guest in Damiens home was a rare word? In fact he didnt often have guests over. Those who had been fortunate enough to have been invited into that house didnt tell anyone about it. As it was also true that, if he did you a favour, you "really had to give him in return something that you were really fond of.
Once someone tried to give him something trivial, or something that he could give up easily. But he still remembers the price he had to pay. Damien was strict and adamant on this point. He only helped people who agreed to his conditions: they had to give up their dearest possession. Anyway, they were only things.
The exchange consisted in objects one gave in return. But no money and no real estate.
All the people Damien helped couldnt possibly reveal it to others.
Otherwise their problem would immediately resurface and more intensely. Damien always warned about this. He did even more: he gave them signals.
Whenever the people who were being helped felt the intimate need to talk about it to someone, they immediately felt weak and devoid of force, so exhausted they almost felt faint. This phenomenon was a good warning that his powers worked well.
However, his power had a limit. This limit was potentially inborn in the person with whom he interfaced. This person had to be receptive. Damien had, lets say, a sort of frequency; if a person was prepared to capture it, then his power was effective. Otherwise Damien appeared to be just a very charming person and full of resources, one of those people that one rarely encounters. That's all.
Part two (Damiens power)
Giovanni, in addition to being an excellent cook, knew how to shop. There was no doubt about that! Damien seemed to confirm, while savouring the appetizer with grilled vegetables and white grape risotto. Giovanni was seventy years old, ten of which he spent at the service of an upper class Florentine family and ten in Damiens home. The lengthy cohabitation of the two had consolidated a relationship of respect and mutual trust, and the knowledge of each others taste. If Giovanni hadnt met Damien, maybe he would have lived in solitude. When he was fifty years old, he lost his wife, who was the only love of his life, in a car accident in which he also lost his right foot. He wore a prosthesis and walked with a considerable claudication, but he found a tangible help in Damien. However, Damien could only help him in the form of a job offer. Damiens power had no effect on Giovanni.
Between the two of them there was a great conspiracy, sometimes all they needed was a gesture, even the slightest, to communicate something. Their friendship turned into brotherhood. It was as if the thoughts of one were always intercepted by the other. They couldnt hide anything from each other. There were no secrets between them. Not even if they tried. And neither of them would have wanted to keep a secret from the other.
While Damien dined, Giovanni was in a corner of the kitchen which he had equipped with a bench dedicated to the preparation of the VAPE liquids. In a small cupboard were crammed several bottles of bases containing glycerine and glycol with or without nicotine and little bottles of various concentrations of aromas to be diluted.
Giovanni often experienced new tastes, by mixing aromas together and he always created excellent products ready to be vaporized, which invariably met the taste of his friend or that of some special customer.
Once prepared, he bottled them, each with its own hand written label. That night he created a special bottle and named it Ainòs. While closing the cabinet, he saw the labels reflection on the door and smiled.
Damien looked up from his plate and looked out the window door in front of him, the one that led into the garden. What he saw would have scared another person to death.
He rested his elbows on the table, folded his hands, rested his chin on them and he kept his serene and steady gaze on the eyes of Chopin, his black cat, who was sitting on a stool on the other side of the window, stretching his front paws, with eyes that asked: Please open up and give me a some kibbles!.
They looked at each other for a minute. Damien tilted his head to one side and Chopin imitated him, then he waved him hello and Chopin imitated him, then he raised his paw as if to knock on the glass. Finally Damien got up and opened the window to let him in.
Chopin! All day long you stray away, and then you slowly come back at the end of the day! Come in and have yourself a comfortable stay!
The cat didnt need to be told twice, he appreciated the rhymes, he jumped in and sat under Damiens chair, who sat back down at the table, and handed him a bowl of kibbles.
Every evening Chopin came back home at that hour. For the whole day he was out in the company of his stray friends with whom he grew up. Giovanni found him wheezing on the ground, with a strong rhinotracheitis, so he brought him to Damien, who healed him with his power.
Giovanni showed up at the house with the cat, a few years ago and all his friend had to do was to touch him to heal him.
Every time it happened to him he felt that same sensation. Giovanni called it a tinglingstab. A tingling in his right or left hand, depending on which of the two touched the other person, and it almost began to vibrate.
Damien felt as if he had a nest of ants under the skin of his hand which woke up from a long sleep and began to move frantically, trying to get out of his body. Then felt a stabbing of sharp needles. And the stronger his receptiveness of the other person was, the stronger those stabs became. It was a feeling that would have made others scream in pain. Not Damien. He was used to it, since he was a boy.
Although the tinglingstab anticipated the effectiveness of his power in connection to those whom he touched, it was still a sad verdict. The pain he felt was strong, although he hid it very well, but he felt it, and how!
Therefore every time he touched a receptive being, he always felt the same pain. Damien never caressed Chopin. Nor did he ever pick him up. If anything, at times, Giovanni placed him on his legs, when he was sitting on the armchair in front of the television. The same thing also happened with people. For this reason, Damien could never have an intimate relationship with a woman (or a man). It was a weird spell. The individuals, with whom he could fall in love with, were always receptive to his power.
When he was twelve years old, among the girls who attended his school in an upscale neighbourhood of Tunis, Karima was his favourite. He fell in love with her and was glad to hear from her girlfriends that she also liked him. He had to tell her, and for a few days he pondered on how to do it, where and when to reveal his feelings for her. One afternoon, he collected his courage and went to the place where Karima and her friends usually played.When he arrived, he saw the most painful scene of his entire life. Karimas mother was bending over her; she was lying lifelessly on the ground. Her friends were all around her, astonished, and couldnt understand what had happened; they couldnt bring themselves to cry nor scream. The girl was dead. An aneurysm had taken her away without notice. That condition had declared itself before Damien could, it proved to be quicker and less shy.
Damien sank to the floor near Karima and stroke her hair. In that moment he could no longer hear her mothers cries of pain, he didnt even hear the ambulance siren that had stopped next to him, he felt nothing but a strong pain in the hand that he rested on the girls head and in his head instead, he heard a persistent and deafening sound, he felt as though he had wasps inside his ears.
He got up, and saw that everything around him seemed to freeze. He ran away, far away, desperately, with his fingers in his ears, turning back to see if he was being chased by the lion that had bitten his hands, for they ached so much, but it was all in his mind. He ran far away and since then, he learned to live with those wasps in his ears and that lions bite on his hands. Forever.
The night that followed Karimas death, she appeared to Damien in a dream. She was dressed in a white tunic and was luminous. Even her face radiated an unreal light. She wasnt in a physical or recognizable space. Rather she was within a beam of sunlight and all around her, in the clear blue sky, the air shimmered, like the flickering on a hot tarmac in August, or in the desert with the sun at its zenith. Karima was speaking to him; her voice was a chorus of voices of different qualities, every word she said, seemed to be sculpted into his hands, as if they were indelible notes to be stored for the rest of his life. Karima brought him a gift and she left with Damiens solemn promise not to tell anyone.
Part three (anonymous letter)
That Saturday night, the starry sky and the cool air were good reasons to go for a walk outdoors. An Arabian moon, cut out with precise definition, allowed a glimpse of the rest of the moon which was in the shade, just as a beautiful woman wearing a robe, reveals her figure through a fine silk fabric. The neighbourhood had already been asleep for a while.