CRAVING U (The Rook Café) (40 page)

“Know what?” she asked, spent.

“That you are still in love with Matteo?”

“Did he tell you about Matteo?”  Marika
had never once pronounced his name.

“Federico tells me everything.”  She
looked out over the Lower Castle below.  “Does he know?”

“I never hid anything from him.” 
TRUE!

“Maybe, but you’ve never told him what you
told me just now.” 
EQUALLY TRUE!

Marika lowered her eyes in shame.  She
knew she wasn’t being fair to him.  She had never directly led him on, but it
wasn’t hard for him to perhaps misinterpret the signals.

“Listen to me!”  Eve raised her voice.  “I’m
very protective of Federico.  He’s the only guy I ever loved and I don’t want
you to cause him any pain.”  She stared at Marika with her violet cat eyes.  “Got
it?”

“I don’t want to hurt him either.”  Marika
didn’t back down from that stare, but she
was
ready to step aside if
necessary.  “If you think it would be better if I just disappeared from his
life, never to see him again, just tell me.”  She lifted her chin, casting away
all of the selfish thoughts that would have liked to always have him there for
her.  “There’s someone who deserves him more than me.”

“Are you talking about me?”  The brash
Lolita looked atypically stunned.

“Federico’s a wonderful guy,” Marika said,
“and you two make the perfect couple.”

“OMG!”  Eve quickly interrupted her
rambling.  “I’ve heard enough stupid shit for one night.”

“I’m not blind, you know.”  She drummed
her fingers on the wooden railing.  “I see how he looks at you.”

“Are you kidding me?”  She thought Marika
was making fun of her.  “You see how he looks at me, and yet you say you aren’t
blind?”  She shook her head.  “Open your eyes, Marika, and see how he looks at
you
!”

“I don’t want to get in between the two of
you.”  She leaned her body forward so as not to see Eve’s face.  She was
troubled by a truth that she didn’t want to admit.  “You still have feelings
for him, and don’t deny it.”

“I don’t want to deny it!”  Eve had turned
harsh and unfriendly.  “But I’ve got other things at the moment.”

“Is there someone else?”  Marika, on the
other hand, was now all sweetness and light, ready to listen.

“Yeah, sort of.”  She shrugged her
shoulders, suddenly shy and uncomfortable.

“Does Fede know about it?”  She turned the
tables on Eve.

“Let’s just say that he isn’t real pleased
about it,” she admitted, “but not for the reasons that you think.”  Eve dug
into her pocket for her iPod, embarrassed, as if she was trying to avoid
looking at the teacher when she had been caught cheating.  “Do you want to
listen to some music, or is it getting too late?”  She handed one of the
earphones to her.

“Music please!  And there’s no rush.” 
They stayed there on the bench of the Fortress for another thirty minutes
before returning to Orgiano, hypnotized by the chorus of sounds and emotions
that were pumping from the speakers of Eve’s car: a cherry-red Fiat Panda, a
present from her father for her eighteenth birthday.

“Take the next one!” Marika served as a
living GPS system, indicating the exit for Montecchio.  “Then just follow the
main road.”  They passed Brendola and Lonigo, where the wild rose was turning a
deeper shade among the grapes after heat waves, late snows, violent gales,
heavy rains, and topsy-turvy weather.  “
I’m back
,” she whispered to
herself, regretting her futile decision to run away that weekend just to avoid
giving in to the temptation of his fatal call, since she could never have
craved him as much as she did at that very moment.  She could no longer stop
wanting him.  “
I thought that running away would have helped me to stop
thinking about him, but it’s all in vain.  And it hurts even more
.”  Marika
lowered the window so as to breathe in the same air that Matteo had breathed.  “
I
tried to hate you, to forgive you, all just to forget you, but I’m only capable
of loving you.  You’re tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you,
the deeper you sink in
.”  She let herself go in the illusion that she could
satiate her desire with the scent that he had left behind, which she could
identify amongst all of the other perfumes of their land.

And so, as God’s day approached its
melancholy end and she sniffed the warm, inebriating odors of the earth, Matteo
was going through the bittersweet cruelty of being distanced from his love.

“I saw Braidi going out... he looked
pissed, man!”  Matteo was still lying on the bed when
Pão came in to change.  “What did he want?”

“Nothing.” 
Matteo stood up and opened his suitcase on the bed to unpack.  “I may have just
blown my shot, that’s all,” he revealed, without feeling sorry for himself.

“You what?”  His
roommate got tangled up in his t-shirt from the surprise.  “That’s impossible!” 
He didn’t want to believe it was true.

“I broke one of
the rules.”  Matteo took off the t-shirt he had been wearing all day, throwing
it on a chair.  “I played in a five-on-a-side tournament in my hometown this
weekend.”  He removed his jeans too.  “In all honesty, I even organized it.”

“Have you lost
your mind?”  Pão was clearly troubled by what he was hearing.  “You might get
thrown out.”

“No, I don’t
think so.”  He brushed past him, headed for the shower.  “Braidi said that he
wasn’t going to file a report, but he’ll be keeping it in mind when they make
their final evaluations, you can be sure of that.”

“What were you
thinking... doing a thing like that?”  Pão followed him to the bathroom.  “Maldição! 
Cuzão, imbecil!” he insulted him in Portuguese.  “Why do you want to throw away
an opportunity like this one?  You’re practically guaranteed a spot on the
team!  I’ve never seen anyone our age control the ball like you can.”  He had
to shout over the noise of running water.  “And I’m from Brazil!  Can you hear
me?”

“Perfectly. 
There’s no need to shout.”  Matteo slid open the shower door and put on a
robe.  “I had to do it.”

“What do you mean,
you had to do it
?” 
He was giving him man-to-man coverage.  “You couldn’t wait just a couple of days? 
They don’t wear you out enough in practice?”  He was all worked up.  “Ask for
extra gym time  then!  But don’t go looking for unauthorized pick-up games! 
This isn’t like you.  Why’d you do it?  At least tell me your reasons.”

“I didn’t have any other choice.”

“Ahhh, well, if you didn’t have any other
choice...!”  Pão sounded like a sarcastic parent.  “What the fuck does that
mean?”  Pão launched into his most vulgar language.  “For what fucking reason
did you have no choice?”

“Because there
are people in my life who count more than playing soccer in Serie A,” Matteo
thundered, getting his face right in Pão’s.  “Because I can live without this
game.”  Sure it would be hard, sure he would miss it, but he could do it.  “But
I can’t live without
....
”  He stopped short.

“Oh, no!”  Pão
slumped to the bed.  “I should have known this was all about a woman!”  He
rolled onto his back.  “Who is she?”

“She’s the most
incredible girl on the planet. 
One worth losing your chance with San Carlo,
not to mention losing your head.
”  He didn’t hesitate in confirming Pão’s
suspicions, though he kept the most intimate details to himself.  “She’s funny,
smart, sweet...,” his lips curled into a dopey smile, “and she’s got an opinion
about everything.”  He slid his legs into his sweatpants and sat down.  “She’s
so beautiful that she doesn’t even realize it, and she doesn’t care what other
people think about her.  She’s honest, hates gossip, and even understands
soccer, though she can’t play it a lick: she’s just amazing!”  He leaned back,
placing his hands behind his head, still wet from the shower.  “I’m happy when
I’m with her.  We have fun together.”

“You could say the same thing about a
friend, even if she is a girl,”
Pão said, insinuating the truth that Matteo could hardly face.  “Right?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that.  When I’m
with her, I lose control of my emotions.  I want her like I’ve never wanted
anyone in my entire life.”

“Mmm-hmm.”  Pão
took a moment to reflect on this, rolling over to his stomach.

“Toss me that
shirt on the bed there, will you?”  A chill, either from the cold or from
emotional overload, was running through his body.  “Ever since I left home, I
feel like something is missing
....
”  His forehead wrinkled.  “I miss the way
she makes me feel.”

“Get to the
point.”  He tossed him the t-shirt.

“Get to what
point?”  Matteo stared at the parquet floor.

“Are you in love?”

He looked up.  “I
don’t really know what that means.”  He leaned over to lace up his shoes.  “It’s
the first time I’ve ever felt this way.”  Such an intense emotion: he was ready
to lay his life down for her, and expected nothing in return.  “I feel like
such crap.  I’m unhappy here, I’m confused, and I want to go home,” he
admitted, exhaling loudly and dragging himself over to the window.  “
I
shouldn’t be here.  This place isn’t for me
.
”

“But does she
love you?” his friend more than legitimately asked.

“She doesn’t even
know how I feel.”

“Perfect,” Pão
said, his voice dripping with disappointment and sarcasm.  He stood up.  “Did
you at least win the tournament?”  He landed a solid punch to Matteo’s
shoulder.  “Or have you come  back here with no girl, no trophy, a one-way
ticket home, and your tail between your legs?”

“Of course I won.”  He grabbed his friend’s
arm and put him in a hammerlock.  “How dare you even ask?”

Pão squirmed out of the hold and landed
another jab to Matteo’s ribs.  “Hah!  Who do you think you are to challenge me?”

“I’m
O Rei do Futebol,
” Matteo
said, stealing the nickname of the Black Pearl of Três Corações, Edson Arantes
do Nascimento, universally known as Pelé.  “Who did you think you were dealing
with?”

“Honestly?”  Pão looked at him seriously. 
“A fool.”  And his fast hands landed a swift punch to Matteo’s bicep.  “I mean,
what the hell were you thinking?  You’re going to fuck everything up for a girl
who doesn’t even know you exist?”

“She knows I exist,” he retorted, dodging
another jab as the two of them continued to mock fight as if they were thirteen
years old.  “
I just need to hear her say it again
,” hear her say that
she still loved him, “
and to say it back
.”

And in a flurry of fake roundhouses,
professional wrestling moves, and kung-fu, they barreled down the hallway so as
to meet up with the others for an all-night FIFA tournament.

AFRAID OF THE DARK

Things took a
miraculous turn for the better on Monday morning.  “Hey Marika!”  Everyone was
practically fighting to say
hi
  to her, and they all had these plastic
smiles plastered on their faces.  “You want to go shopping sometime this week?” 
Invitations were flying at her from all corners.  “How about pizza and a movie?” 
It looked like everybody, all of a sudden, wanted to be her best friend. 
But
what the heck for?

“Hey gorgeous!”  Gloria, the girl who
copied over her shoulder, hugged her warmly outside their Latin class.  “What
are you doing this afternoon?  Why don’t you come out with us?”  She nudged a
girl standing next to her, obviously prompting her.  “Is he really as hot as he
looks?”

“Who are you talking about??”  She
narrowed her eyes at them, sure that they were making fun of her.

But the million dollar question on
everyone’s lips was: “Marika, you gotta tell me, are you Zovigo’s girlfriend?”

“Not as far as I know,” she said archly.  “But
if there’s any news in my life I’m sure I’ll read all about it on the bathroom
walls,” was the only answer they got out of her.

Brrriiiiiiing
...!!  This last year,
the bell announcing break – the beginning or the end of it, depending on the
circumstance – had become like the sound of angel trumpets.

“Why’s everyone being so nice to me today?”
she asked Carlotta in whispered tones.  Leaning against the railing, she
blurted out, “It’s ridiculous, it’s crazy!”  Turning her back on the curious
onlookers, she stared into the empty space of the stairwell.  “And they all
keep asking me if I’m together with Matteo.  I mean, what have they been
smoking?”

“Pot’s got nothing to do with it.” 
Carlotta pulled her aside to get away from prying eyes.  “It’s just that....” 
She paused for a dramatic sigh.  “That he did something amazing, crazy,
unbelievably romantic for you.”

“Who, Matteo??”  Marika grabbed hold of
the metal guard rail as she felt her legs go soft and her knees begin to
quiver.

“Of course Matteo!  I couldn’t believe it
when I heard it....”  Her words stuck in her throat out of excitement.  “Matteo
is totally in love with you.  No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Oh yeah?!  Since when, if I may ask?” 
She didn’t even want to listen to the answer.  She was still too vulnerable,
too fragile to deal with the idea that what she was hearing might be true.  “You’re
out of your mind!  First you tell me he’s a dickhead and you warn me not to
lose out on a genuinely special guy like Federico.”  
REWIND
!  “That’s
what you said then, and now you’re rooting for Matteo like some ditzy
cheerleader; all you need is the pleated skirt and the pompoms.”

“You’re totally right, forgive me.” 
Carlotta lowered her face for a few precious moments before practically
screaming “Forgive me, please forgive me!  I know I made you nuts with that
whole story.  I never believed you two could really be together, and I’m sorry
about that.”  She kept grabbing at her shirt like an annoying younger brother. 
“But what do I know about anything?  I’m just an extra here.” 
Drama Queen!
 
“Look, I don’t want to offend you, Marika, but I never thought that a guy like
Matteo could really be interested in you, you know, in that way.”

“Aww, did you
think I’d be offended by as little as that?” Marika replied, openly sarcastic. 
“All you’re saying is that I’m not good enough for him.”  She placed her
daytimer against the railing and leaned her body against it.  “But don’t worry
about it... please... continue!”

“Well, no, I mean....”  Carlotta tried to
wiggle her way out of it, knowing full well that she had just suggested that
Matteo was out of Marika’s league.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, right!  That’s exactly what you
meant, and you know it,” she accused her.  “But I don’t care.  After all, there’s
no place for me in his life.”  Marika had finally convinced herself of this,
and she didn’t have the energy to even doubt it any more.  It was what
protected her from suffering even more.  “The only thing that matters to him is
soccer, soccer games, soccer practice, and his harem of chicks who waddle
around drooling over him like he was some kind of god.”  She glanced quickly at
the dozens of pairs of eyes that were watching her.  “Shouldn’t we talk about
Lucrezia instead?”

“Of would you stop it with the same old
sob story?  You make me want to puke.”  Carlotta did her best to get between
Marika and the onlookers.  “No one does what he does, running the risk of
losing everything – and Dario was very clear with me about the possible
consequences of Matteo’s actions – for someone they aren’t in love with.”

“And what, pray tell, did he do that was
so amazing and dangerous?”  Her voice was absolutely thick with sarcasm.  “I’m
just dying to know.”

“You know that
mini soccer tournament that took place here at Pellico this weekend?”  Carlotta
looked around suspiciously, as if everyone didn’t already know what had
happened there.

“Yeah, what about it?” Marika snorted,
bored.  “I heard Matteo’s team won.  He’s a real champ.  Serie A will welcome
him with open arms... so what?”

“Who gives a crap who won and how talented
he is at kicking a little ball around!”  Carlotta’s hackles were up.  “After
the welcoming speech by the principal – buzzkill! – Matteo took the microphone
and defended
you
in front of everyone present.”

“Huh?”  Marika was
shaking like a warm crème caramel.

“He denied all of
the rumors that Lucrezia has been spreading.  He made her look like a real
bitch.”  She pronounced the last words slowly, and with pleasure.  “He said
that he didn’t have a girlfriend and that he’s never had one, he confessed how
important you are for him, even going so far as to declare that he knows you
better than anyone else in the world.”  Her eyes were starting to take on the
worrisome shape of cartoon hearts.  “He even said that you have no need to play
erotic games to get noticed, and that anyone who says otherwise isn’t even
worthy of pronouncing your name!”

“You’re lying.” 
Marika tugged so frenetically at her hair that she inadvertently pulled out her
ponytail.

“It’s the God’s
honest truth,” she reassured her.

“Stop it!” she
yelled.  “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Why not?”  Her
cousin was smiling lovingly at her.  “What he did for you was straight out of a
Hollywood love story.  He should have charged admission.”

“It doesn’t
matter.  It doesn’t mean anything.”  Her voice was spent.

“What do you mean
it doesn’t mean anything
?  He risked being sent home by
San Carlo
for you.”  She was all satin and lace.  “He’s in love with you!  Isn’t that
obvious?”

“Are you sure?” 
Marika didn’t want to start falling down that slippery slope of hope again,
where it was far too easy to lose her balance and break her shattered heart
once again, this time for good.  “Really, really sure?”  She clenched her jaw.

Carlotta nodded,
dreaming romantically.

“OK, then.  Tell
me, honestly, if you think that Matteo wouldn’t have done the exact same thing
for his sister or... or for Dario, for example.”

Silence.

“There you go. 
See?”  Marika picked her backpack up off the ground.  She hadn’t left it in the
room because of the suspicious behavior of her classmates.  “Back off, then.”

“OK, I’ll drop
it.  But call him!”  Carlotta tried one last rapid sneak attack.  “And then we’ll
see if I’m not right.”

“I’ll think about
it,” she said, her voice drowned out by the vibrating metallic sound of the
school bell as she turned and walked down the hallway, forgetting her daytimer
there on the railing.

“Marika, you forgot....”  Before she even
had time to turn around, Carlotta was already flipping through the pages,
scanning them for future reference: a well-chewed wooden stick from a green
popsicle, probably mint-flavored; a ticket from San Siro Stadium, upper deck; a
piece of wrapping paper with a pink bow; the sticky imprint of a lipstick kiss...
“What
is
all this stuff?”  She then noticed a strange numerical
sequence:

Marika grabbed the daytimer violently from
her hands.  “Get out of my things!”  Marika couldn’t bring herself to admit to
Carlotta that she was counting the hours without Matteo, ever since the moment
his car’s headlights had disappeared behind the castle in Montecchio, without
also admitting that she was still in love with him, maybe even more than
before, and that knowing what he had just done for her made it all the worse.

“Marika, your
soul can’t inhabit another person’s body,” Carlotta yelled at her from behind.

“Where did you
get that pearl of wisdom?” 
She certainly hadn’t come up with it herself
. 
Marika was sure of it, jumping when she found her cousin already at her side.

“Fortune cookie.” 
She shrugged her shoulders.

Marika rolled her
eyes and made way for Mr. Bottazzi to enter the room for an hour of math,
closing the door definitively on Carlotta.

That afternoon,
Marika worked hard to make up some of the work that she had missed during the
past weeks, and then surprised her coach, teammates, and perhaps even herself
by showing up on time at the swimming pool for her synchronized swimming
course.  Now that she had become more popular than Twitter at school, she had
no more excuses to skip lessons.

She waited until
Wednesday to see Federico again.  When the black Fiesta rolled up, Eve was the
first to get out, greeting her by saying, “Finally!  A decent pair of shoes,”
in reference to the new Chuck Taylors on her feet.  “I was tired of seeing you
with those flats!”  Eve hated anything that smelled like the social elite, like
what “good girls” did, like high society with its private schools and
fashionable clothes, like a bunch of worldwide clones of wealth.  “Wear them
when you go to dance class!”

“If they’ll even
take me back.”  She said hi to Eve before giving Federico a hug.  “I’ve skipped
a ton of lessons lately, and I’m totally behind on my routine for the recital,”
she admitted, worried about being able to catch up.  “If I don’t figure it out
quick, Mr. Maller is going to cut me, I know it.”   All of a sudden, Marika
realized that she was surrounded by the entire lineup of
S in S
.  She
hadn’t noticed Niccolò’s car pull up behind Federico’s.  “Are we going
somewhere?” she asked, surprised to find them all there.

“You and me are,”
Federico said.  “The rest of them just came to say hi to you, but they’re
headed to Vicenza now,” he said, winking at his friends, “to pick up some gear:
USB attachments, external hard drives, CDs, that kind of stuff.”  He could see
the confused look in her eye.  “It’s just an excuse to get out of town for the
afternoon.”

“Cool!  We can go
with them,” she said, kidding herself that he would be pleased by her
proposal.  They got into his car.

“No,” he replied
brusquely.  “I need a break from the band for a few hours.  I’m tired of
spending every minute in that attic practicing,
and I’m
tired of being with
them 24/7.” 
In truth, all he wanted was to be with her.  “I’m losing my artistic
inspiration.”

“You’re
exaggerating,” she said, giving him a playful shove.

“I’m not
exaggerating.” Federico hit the automatic locks. “Our songs all come from
personal experience, they talk about us and what we feel.”  He turned the
ignition.  “But we have to live through those experiences before we can write
about them.”

Marika nodded, even though her mind was a
million miles away.  She was obsessed by what Matteo had done for her and by
her desire to call him.

The car headed toward Vicenza, followed by
the others, but their paths separated as Nick took the main road into town and
Federico followed a country road that led toward the Berici Hills.  At the top
of a small rise, the landscape opened up, and she could clearly see the outline
of Villa La Rotonda.

Andrea di Pietro della Gondola, known as
Palladio, in his
Second Book on Architecture
from 1570, explained the
design for La Rotonda this way:  “
...less than a quarter mile from the town...one
could almost say, right in the town...since the location enjoys magnificent
views in all directions...I built loggias on all four facades.
”