Authors: Luca Rossi
Maria pulled the keys out from her skirt pocket and opened the front door. Maciste got out of his dog bed, ran towards her and jumped up, almost knocking her over. “Down, down!” she told the dog who, up on his back legs, was almost as tall as she was. She pushed him down. One of Maciste's paws slid on the envelope someone had slipped under the door, sending it underneath the bench. Maria let him out, and Maciste was elated to finally wander around the garden.
The woman immediately set to work doing the household chores. She stopped when she got to the second floor. She had no desire to clean the bedroom of her father, who had died six months earlier.
When she went back downstairs, Nuccio, the local postman, appeared at the front door.
“Good morning, Miss Maria,” he greeted her kindly, standing in the doorway and holding his hat.
“Good morning Nuccio. What do you want?”
He wasn't phased by her brusque tone. “How did your classes go today? Did your students behave?”
Maciste returned, wagging his tail, and started licking Nuccio's hands. “Good boy,” he said.
“Hardly. I had to send two of them to stand up by the blackboard as a punishment. With everything going on in this world, they get even more undisciplined every day. But why do you care?” Maria responded sourly.
Nuccio looked around, embarrassed. He squeezed his hat energetically, petting Maciste with the other hand.
School!
If only he had gone beyond the fifth grade, maybe Maria would have given him a chance.
“I brought you some bread!” he remembered to say, giving it to her. Maciste immediately jumped up to sink his teeth into the loaf, but Nucio was quicker, raising his hand higher.
“You can keep it! Or if you want, give it to my dog!” Maria refused, scornfully. “And please leave me alone. I have things to get done around here!”
“Give the bread to Maciste?” he asked, stunned and humiliated. “Maria, be nice, since your father died you've been...”
Maria raised her voice, enraged: “What I do in my home is none of your business! And now, you need to...” she added, moving to slam the door shut in his face.
“And what about that nice letter? What's in it?” he had the time to say, sticking his head and part of his chest between the door and the jamb.
The letter?
Maria's heart leapt.
“Where did you put it?” she asked anxiously.
“Underneath the door, like you always ask me to do,” Nuccio answered.
Maria gave Maciste a furious glance.
That dog!
All he did was annoy her. Aside from the house, couldn't her father have left her something else besides a dog?
Maria looked around and finally saw the letter underneath the bench to the right of the front door. She jumped up to get it and ripped it open. Then, realizing the front door was still cracked open, she slammed it hard, isolating herself from Nuccio's protests and Maciste's yelps.
It's from Turin. I just know it – it's from them.
She opened it and read what was inside.
“Dear Ms. Villani
,
We're pleased to inform you that we have positively evaluated your potential and are offering you no more than two weeks to start collaborating with us in our new production.
Regards,
Umberto Altimondi,
Director
The New Film Company of Torino.”
Maria needed to sit down.
The cinematographer. They had chosen her!
She held the letter against her, oblivious to the noises coming from outside. Then she made her decision.
I need to go soon! There's nothing for me here in this godforsaken town.
If she left at four in the morning, it'd take a few hours to get to the Chivasso train station, where she could get on the six-fifteen train. She wouldn't tell anyone anything. She had nothing in common with these people. They'd find a substitute for her at school.
As soon as she had calmed down, Maria got up, went to the door, let Maciste back in and slammed the door again in Nuccio's face, who had remained patiently waiting the entire time. Then she started to frantically run around the house.
She actually didn't have much worth bringing to Turin. People in that city weren't like the bumpkins in this town. She put on her best dress for the trip and a few others in her suitcase, just for the first days. With the money she'd make from the production, she'd buy next week what she hadn't been able to afford all these years on a teacher's salary. She closed her suitcase and studied it.
At least it'll be easy to carry!
Maciste nuzzled her palm, and she yanked her hand away, disgusted. Then she went around the house, covering the furniture with sheets. Maciste followed her closely, observing her every movement. She gave him a few leftovers from last night's dinner and, now that she was finished getting ready, sat on the couch, already dressed and ready for tomorrow's trip. There was no use in trying to sleep: she was nowhere near tired.
When the grandfather clock struck four, Maria grabbed her overcoat and left the house. Maciste, happy to go for an unexpected nighttime stroll, slipped out before she could close the door.
Oh no, the dog! What do I do now?
“Go, go play,” she told him, pointing in the direction opposite the one she wanted to take. Maciste stayed frozen, looking at her, tipping his head to the side.
She turned and ran. He immediately followed her. Maria stopped in a huff. She picked up a stone and threw it at the dog, just missing him. He went to go get it, brought it back and waited for her to continue playing the game.
On the brink of exasperation, Maria returned to the house and, leash in hand, came back outside. She called the dog over and attached the leash to him, then tied it around the doorknob. Satisfied, she started walking, but Maciste started to jump and bark.
“Shh...you need to be quiet!”
Oh good God, what do I do now?
she wondered, worn-out. She ran back to the animal, fearing that he might wake someone with his howling. She let him loose and took a quick glance at the houses around her to see if anyone had turned on their lights.
Then she started walking again, as Maciste followed her.
After about an hour, halfway there, she looked around. The road stretched out through the flat Piedmontese plain. A subtle pallor started to play with the night in the East. Maciste ran happily through the cultivated fields.
She put her suitcase down and whistled. The loyal dog ran towards her immediately and let her attach one end of the leash to his collar. Maria then led him to a tree at the edge of the road. She passed the other end around the trunk and tied it into a tight knot, then picked up her suitcase and calmly began walking. The dog started barking nonstop. He jumped up, pulling the leash until he almost choked. Maria continued on her way, thinking about the diva hairdo she'd be flaunting once she got on the set.
Joanna held her hand out over the edge and helped Nick up the last few feet. The man's face was covered in sweat, showing signs of extreme fatigue. Once he was over the precipice, he fell down heavily against the rock wall, still wearing his backpack over his shoulders. Joanna remained standing, waiting patiently. He wiped his forehead and stared at her bare legs, going from the tops of her feet up to her lime green shorts. He was so tired that he didn't even care about trying to make his staring less intrusive.
“Nick, this is just the beginning. A few hundred yards up, we'll go back to climbing an even more difficult path. Maybe we should consider today a training day and try again next weekend.”
His pride wounded, Nick mustered up what was left of his strength and answered:
“What? I hope you're joking! I don't intend on stopping here. Let's do the trail as planned, I just need to catch my breath. The only thing is that...that...” he stopped, looking at the confused expression on the beautiful woman's face, “that you're too fast!”
“If you want to, then sure. Let's go a little slower this time,” she responded, turning to adjust the snap-hooks on the clasps fixed to the rock. He didn't miss the opportunity to feast his eyes on her butt.
After a few minutes of careful observation, he felt that he had recovered enough to continue. “Let's go!” he told her, in a tone that was just a bit too loud.
“You don't want to rest a little longer?” she asked, without turning to look at him.
“I said let's go!” he responded, offended.
They started walking again along a path cut into the steep vertical wall. At that point the cliff was over a mile high.
Tonight I'm going to fuck her
, he thought,
let's see if she's such a big tease after that!
Absorbed in his thoughts and focused on her backside, Nick took a wrong step and lost his balance. Joanna turned around quick as lightning and stretched out her hand to catch him, just missing him. Nick slid along the edge; Joanna dropped to the ground to grab his other hand and, this time, succeeded.
Nick tried to grip onto the woman with his other hand. His feet searched for something he could use to stabilize himself. “Help me, pull me up!” he begged, looking up at her. Their eyes met. She felt something awaken within her, a sensation she had never felt before in her life. The memory of an old pain radiated through her soul.
Nick looked at Joanna's vacant eyes and transfigured face. Terror and a feeling of guilt swept through him. He didn't have time to understand, since Joanna's grip loosened and he started to fall. He felt abandoned. Sensations transformed into memories and he again saw what had happened: his hands tying the leash around the tree trunk, the dog looking with pleading eyes towards him. Nick lost consciousness and fell downwards. His ears echoed with the yelps, the barks, and the suffering of that creature.
Maciste, Joanna.
The rope tightened, cutting his fall short and slamming him hard against the wall. Nick was brusquely brought back to the reality of this life.
From above, Joanna looked at him dangling from the safety cord andsmiled.
Clouded Emotions
Prequel
I – Alpha resource
“The man you are looking at is Mario Orsini,” the smartphone says.
Isabella strolls along the park path. A light autumn breeze caresses her hair and ripples through the tree branches, which let their leaves fall. She studies the face of the man who will become her husband. An elongated nose, angular features, lean cheeks, slightly tousled brown hair, intense eyes with just a touch of madness to them.
I could do worse.
“He's a programmer: he works in a small company that works as a subcontractor for video game and virtual reality projects,” the voice adds. “Mario helps develop artificial intelligence. His profile identifies him as an Alpha resource for DataCom projects. We must act quickly: you need to meet him tonight. Tonight he'll be a bar with his boss, Roberto. Start studying the attitudinal notes immediately.”
The image of Mario disappears, replaced by a list of information on his life. Isabella sits down on a bench and starts reading: personal tastes, acquaintances, hobbies, friends, intimate details. The woman studies it, writing down everything she finds useful. She asks the device a few questions, and it answers with clear, efficient responses.
Isabella leaves the park and makes her way to a neighborhood full of shops. She buys only the types of clothes that Mario is known to admire on a woman. After a long session in a beauty salon, she sports bright yet discrete makeup, and a slightly wavy, warm chestnut hairdo that grazes the tops of her shoulders.
Lucky for me, he's not into blondes. S
he runs home to take care of the last few preparations.
“Hello, woman of Mario Orsini's dreams,” she says, pleased, looking at herself in the large mirror in her room.
“Your image corresponds ninety-seven percent to Mario's tastes,” confirms the smartphone.
That brainiac is going to like me a lot more than just ninety-seven percent
, she thinks mischievously.
II – The meeting
Isabella enters the bar and spots Mario and Roberto sitting at a table in the corner. Her walk is confident. Many men and a few women turn to look at her figure as she settles onto a stool near the bar. She mentally reviews Mario's profile.
He loves women's legs, especially if they're in the dominant position.
She takes off her dark grey coat and places it between herself and the back of the chair. She crosses her legs.
He doesn't drink hard liquor and feels uncomfortable with women who order drinks that have a higher alcohol content than wine or beer,
she recalls. “A glass of white wine, please,” she tells the bartender, who lingers a few seconds too long on her green eyes. As she waits for her order, she takes out her smartphone and starts chatting with a friend.
He is attracted to women who act stand-offish:
this sums up Mario's taste in women.
Roberto gives Mario a look, nodding towards Isabella. Mario glances over at the bar and sees her: black shoes with stratospheric heels, crossed legs, red dress, plunging neckline, angelic face, wavy hair with a dazzling sheen to it.
Holy shit! Is that her?
Suddenly agitated, he turns to Roberto: “Did you see her?” forgetting that his friend was the one who pointed her out.
“What a hottie! I saw her come in. It looks like she's waiting for someone.”
Mario can't take his eyes off of her, and Isabella raises hers from her phone. The two men pretend to look elsewhere. She takes a sip of wine and goes back to chatting. The two go back to looking her up and down.
“I'm going in.” Mario announces. His friend has much more experience and confidence when it comes to picking up women, but this time around, he can't miss out on the chance to meet such an attractive woman.
“How are you going to approach her?” Roberto answers in an ironic tone, smirking provocatively. He's skeptical because he knows how shy his friend is. Meanwhile, Mario keeps staring at those towering heels.