The Sense Of Courage. Martyn Fogg
words were followed by a murmur of anxiety, which spread quickly among all his audience.
“It is for me an offer that I can’t refuse from a financial and professional point of view”, he continued, “anyway, I would like to offer special thanks to all of you, because it is with your most precious contribution and your total availability and cooperation that I have had the possibility of making this company great and giving my working life a turning-point that will allow me to get closer to my dream of becoming a successful manager, known also beyond the borders of Italy and Europe.
I am, however, above all grateful for the sincere friendship that you have always shown towards me since I became part of this firm. Now”, he concluded, moved, “It just remains for me to say goodbye to you and to wish you to continue to produce even better results in the future.”
His farewell speech touched, deep down in their hearts, his colleagues, who showed, with a deafening silence, their displeasure at the departure of their manager who, with his own talent, had coordinated their work.
Sharing their regret, Marco put down the microphone and, with his head bowed, joined the rest of the employees, still dazed by the emotional earthquake that he had just overwhelmed them with.
The only person who had the guts to speak, was his dear friend Massimo, a massive man with a cheerful character and a ready, witty remark, and who had already lost his contagious good humour.
“Giovanni” he said, disconsolately turning to a colleague on his right, don’t switch the music back on, by now we don’t have any reason to celebrate any more. Without Marco, our firm is finished and soon we will find ourselves unemployed.”
His expression was fully shared by everyone, including his secretary Luisa who, having run in to hear her manager’s speech, stared with dead eyes at the recently repainted wall.
The party having sadly ended, Marco spent a few, but interminable, minutes saying goodbye to his ex-colleagues and left the building, listening with profound melancholy to their shocked comments.
Not even the roar of his car’s engine managed to arouse him from his reflections while he drove home.
Only at the moment when he glimpsed the house in which he lived with Francesca did it occur to him that she might have been able to hear about the news of his move with understandable anger, inasmuch as even she had been kept in the dark about Jason Walker’s offer.
“I should have talked to her about it”, thought Marco.
But by now it was too late.
Troubled by this realisation, he parked the car and rang the bell, waiting for his fiancée to open the door for him.
Chapter II
Exodus
After a few seconds, Marco heard the key turn in the lock and the door opened, showing a tall and slim girl, whose fair complexion was framed by a thick head of sleek brown hair, that created, with her blue eyes, an irresistible colour contrast: it was Francesca.
At the sight of her companion, her generous mouth opened instinctively into a large, candid smile, which lit up her face.
“Hello, darling”, she exclaimed with joy, while she opened the door to the house.
Marco returned the greeting with a forced smile, not sufficient to hide the evident worries that afflicted him.
“How did it go at work today? Did something go wrong?”, she asked, seeing acutely the discomfort of her fiancé, who had just crossed the threshold.
“Everything went all right, a quiet day”, he lied, carefully avoiding her gaze.
Francesca scrutinised him for a moment, but then shrugged her shoulders and served up lunch.
During the meal, Francesca tried to start up a conversation, but Marco, distracted by the fear of revealing to his fiancée what had happened that morning, limited himself to replying in monosyllables and to nod in silence.
This unusual behaviour did not go unnoticed in the eyes of Francesca, still perplexed about the previous reply she had received.
“Is there something wrong?”
“N - no”, stammered Marco.
“Are you sure?” she insisted.
Silence.
“Look me in the eye”, she ordered in a vaguely threatening tone.
Marco, reluctant, lifted his gaze, until he met the blue eyes of Francesca.
“The eyes are the mirror of the mood”, she commented with a bitter smile.
Well, there was no way out. A single glance was enough for her to understand that something was wrong. As always.
Marco sighed deeply and, gathering up all his will-power, whispered weakly. “I’ve accepted a move to JW Corporation in New York.”
“What?” asked Francesca, keeping calm with difficulty.
“Yes, I’m moving to New York for work”, he confirmed, preparing himself to be assailed by a reaction.
“And do you think this is the moment to tell me?” she asked furiously, with her eyes looking daggers.
Still silence.
“Considering that we live under the same roof, didn’t it come into your head to discuss the job offer together with me, before giving your word? Don’t you remember that before we started living together we promised each other that we would decide everything by common agreement?” Francesca pressed on, without showing any sign of calming down.
“But can’t you manage to understand my desire for a better life and job? You don’t want to move for your own reasons!”
“I didn’t say that I would have forced you to refuse, for you, I would have accepted this and more! You, instead, didn’t have the courage to confront me, for fear that I might have hampered you in this dream.
It seems to me that it is more important to you than our plan for a life together”
“Instead, to spend the rest of my days with you has always been my greatest desire, but evidently you don’t understand it, otherwise you wouldn’t make these accusations!”
“But do you realise that you’re only putting the blame onto my shoulders? You’re just a coward, I can’t find any other word for it”.
“Well, if you think I'm a coward, then goodbye”, Marco replied, his pride hurt by this unacceptable term.
Having said that, he turned around and marched off into their bedroom upstairs, angrily grabbed his clothes from the wardrobe and put them quickly into a black leather suitcase.
“Don’t be crazy” implored his fiancée, who in the meantime had joined him. “Come on, put your clothes back away and snap out of it.”
“Well, isn’t this what you wanted?” replied Marco, provocatively, going down the stairs.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you know I didn’t mean to chase you away.”
“It’s too late now”, he concluded, turning a final angry glare in the direction of Francesca, who looked impotently as her fiancé angrily put on his overcoat and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone, in tears over the unexpected break-up.
And so, still thinking with incredulity about the quarrel with his ex-partner, Marco drove fast towards the home of his mother, who still did not know of the imminent departure of her son and the end of his relationship with Francesca.
After a few minutes, he arrived at the complex of town houses and parked in front of number 16, where he had lived until a year ago.
Then he got out of the car and opened the gate with his copy of the keys and knocked on the entrance door.
“Who is