Authors: Manuela Pigna
He
nods, then clears his throat, lifting his head and looking me in the eyes. “But
how is it you became aware that you weren’t living? That is, what happened… I
mean, there must have been something that set it off. Because why, for what
reason only now and not three years ago for example? Or two years ago?”
I
inhale and hold it in. He gazes at me in silence for a while. I take another
sip of the beer, which is cool and makes me a little dizzy. “From a certain
point onward I did live a little – anesthetized, if you can say that – and
then…” I stop because it annoys me to tell him about Gianca.
“And
then?”
I
shake my head and drink a little more. “Nothing. Then one evening, a few months
ago, I met a guy.”
He
straightens up and pays attention. He murmurs in a low voice, “I knew it…”
I
roll my shoulders again.
“Go
on,” he says spinning his hand around.
“There’s
not really much to say… I saw this man, I liked him, I realized that… that…” I
look at him for a moment, blushing before looking away. “That I would have
liked something to happen between him and me, but at the same time no because I
felt too uncomfortable about my body, and so… I decided to modify one of the
factors in this problem, in hopes that, in this way, the result would be
different too.”
Andrea
is quiet for a long time.
I
look around me in the dark, drink and play with the glass beer bottle. I look
at my feet and don’t say anything until he breaks the silence, “Is it Nic?”
I
jerk my head up, surprised. “No!”
He
drops his shoulders slightly. “Who is it then?”
“I
don’t think you know him…”
“What’s
his name?” He gaze is fixed, serious. The bottle in his hands is still half
full.
I
shrug before answering, “His name is Giancarlo. He’s a friend of Nic’s.”
Andrea
squints his eyes. “Did he go to our high-school?” He means his and Nic’s.
“I
don’t know. I only know that he does a lot of snowboarding.”
He
looks ahead, with his eyes still half closed. He scratches his chin and finally
says, “I think I know who it is… Dark hair with blue eyes?” He asks turning to
me again and I nod. “Yes, he went to our high-school.” He concludes.
I
nod again without saying anything else, hoping that we can end the conversation
here.
But
he doesn’t want to end it. “Has something already happened?”
“Huh?”
I ask him in a shrill voice in spite of myself.
“Between
you and him.”
“Oh,
no, no. I haven’t seen him again.”
Andrea
takes a long drink and then scratches the nape of his neck, he clears his
throat before speaking, “Would you like it to happen?”
I’m
breathless, and without words. I move my gaze, but my sense of unease is too
great. So much so that I put my bottle down on the ground and stand up. “That’s
enough. Let’s go back. I’ve already told you plenty.” I hug myself and chafe my
arms as though I were suddenly cold. But it’s not cold.
He
puts down his bottle too and stands up quickly. He stands in front of me and
whispers, “I’ll say when it’s enough. Would you like it to happen?”
Now
I have to lift my head to look him in the eyes, then look down immediately
afterwards, breathing noisily. “In part,” I answer in a very soft voice,
without looking at him.
“In
what sense?” He whispers.
“A
part of me would like it… another part… no,” I murmur softly, without looking
up.
“What
does the first part want, and the part that doesn’t, why doesn’t it?” I don’t
know why we’ve suddenly both started to whisper.
He’s
too close, too imposing and I don’t want to answer anymore. I look around,
looking for anything to grasp onto, but around me there is only darkness and
nature and him. And for the first time since we arrived here, I realize that he
chose the place for my third degree well. “Please, let’s go. Enough.”
“Why
yes and why no?” He repeats relentlessly, mercilessly.
“No
because… I’m afraid. I don’t know of what or why. And also because…” If this is
the Evening of Truth, then truth it will be. “I don’t like him that much
really. That is, he’s very good looking, but… I hardly know him at all… and… I
almost don’t remember his face,” I confess in a low voice, still not looking at
him.
He
says nothing for a while and waits, but when I just can’t bring myself to speak
he says, “A piece is missing.” Before me is his chest, illuminated from below
by the flashlight between us. I take a breath because there’s no air in my
lungs. Staring at his T-shirt, I try to say something. “A part of me would like
it despite everything because… because… I’d like to try…” I take another
breath. “I’d like… to have… to have…” Another breath. “I’d like… to have… some
experience... in relationships and…” I sigh and look at my feet. I close my
eyes and put my hands in my hair. I sigh again, putting my hands on my hips.
Through all this, Andrea doesn’t say anything. When I open my eyes again I see
his chest - but I can’t manage to raise my gaze and wouldn’t even if they paid
me my weight in gold – which is rising and falling much faster than before.
“Because… I would like to have… a complete life.”
He
stays quiet for a very long time. I hug myself tightly and stay like that. I
promise myself to shut up and stay still until we leave.
“You’ve
never… you’ve never…” He begins after a bit. And it would seem that he is
having the same difficulty I am.
I
shake my head, biting my lower lip. “No,” I say so softly that, if it were not
absolutely silent, it would be impossible to hear me.
I
see him raise his arm and run his hand through his hair, scratching his nape
before putting it back on his hip. “Have you… someone has… have you ever been
kissed?”
I
shake my head again. “No.”
He
inhales and clears his throat. “And… have you ever been… touched? In… in some
way that wasn’t… what you’d call… innocent?”
“No.”
I bite my lip again. My head is still lowered, I haven’t looked up and I
believe I’ll never look up again and I’ll never have the courage to look him in
the face again. Tears of embarrassment rise in my eyes, but I remain immobile
and try to concentrate on the energy fields.
He
doesn’t move either, and doesn’t speak. I only hear him breathe, sigh, and
catch his breath from time to time, as though he were about to say something.
But then he says nothing – only the silence and the sound of the water and the
wind in the leaves of the trees remains.
“Can
we go?” I ask in a low voice after a while, looking at my shoes.
“I…”
“Please…”
I beg him, squeezing my eyes shut.
I
hear him sigh and finally say, “Alright.”
Neither
of us opens our mouths for the entire return trip.
I
don’t know how I’ll cope tomorrow morning, when I have to meet him on the bike
track and I won’t even have the protection of the night’s darkness.
11.
As it
happened, I didn’t go. For the first time since February, I didn’t show up to
the workout with Andrea, as I told Linda this afternoon.
I
don’t know what he thinks of it. I didn’t even let him know. He’ll have stayed there
and waited for me for a while before realizing that I wouldn’t come. I felt
really bad about doing this, but I just couldn’t – I really just couldn’t – do
otherwise. He didn’t even call or write to me later, perhaps he didn’t show up
either… It’s much more likely that he was so angry that he preferred to wait
before giving me a lecture – to not run the risk of strangling me. I don’t know
what I’ll do Tuesday. For now I’m not thinking about it and am living for today.
It’s
Saturday and I’m going with Linda to the twins’ house to spend the evening
together. Nic is staying home and told Linda to ask me to come so he won’t be
forced to put up with being a third wheel. I didn’t feel like it at all – too
messed up by last night and this morning – but Linda insisted forcefully,
following Nic’s instructions.
I’ve
put on a pair of jeans from a while back, not too tight, but not too loose
either, as the other pants I usually wore just a few months ago. On top, I put
a T-shirt in black and white, smiling seductively, and lastly a light, slim,
cream colored cotton cardigan. I’ve made a pony tail and put on a little light
makeup – practically the same as yesterday. I’m starting to have a little fun
with clothes and my looks in general. I still feel awkward most of the time, as
though I hadn’t lost all those kilos, and often I just want to be invisible,
but slowly, day by day, I’m fighting to knock down this wall and dare. Although
it makes me a little anxious to even think about putting on something
form-fitting, I make the effort and dare to do it.
At
the twins’ house, Mrs. Bonaventura opens the door. She greets Linda with a
smile and two kisses, then she looks me up and down and claps happily. “Olivia,
you’re gorgeous, gorgeous!”
I
laugh, because I already know what she’s thinking and I know why she’s so
happy. I shake my head. “Thank you Mrs. Bonventura.” By now I don’t say
anything, I let her live this dream of me and Nic in her head. With time she’ll
understand on her own that there is nothing to be done.
“Go
on, go on!” She pushes us with her hands towards the stairs which lead to the
lower floor where the movie room is. “Nic is down there, in the game room.”
Linda
and I look at each other and then burst out laughing. “And Marco?” Linda asks
laughing and looking back.
Mrs.
Bonventura shakes her head, not even a little embarrassed. “Marco too of
course.”
We’re
still chuckling when we go through the doorway of the game room, a room where
there is a foosball table, a pool table and a simple table with wood chairs
around it – used to place chess, checkers and cards – and a black leather couch
near the door. I enter first, with my head turned slightly back towards Linda
and a laugh dying on my lips. When I turn, however, and see who is leaning with
his arms folded on the foosball table, positioned directly in front of the
entrance to the room, the laugh dies definitively without any chance of
survival.
Marco
appears by my side suddenly, I see him out of the corner of my eye. “Lin, come
and help me get something to drink,” he says going by me and leaving the room.
I
see Nic enter my field of vision. I look at him questioningly and he puts his
hands in his pockets. “I have to piss.” And when he leaves, he closes the door
behind him, trapping me in this room with an angry Sun God.
“Whose
splendid idea was this?”
“Mine,”
Andrea answers without hesitation.
I
nod and look at the floor, without moving a step from the doorway.
“You
abandoned me,” he begins, because Andrea is not one to waste time.
I
don’t answer.
“You
could have at least let me know if you didn’t want to come… I was stopped
there, like an asshole, for an hour.”
I
continue to stare at the floor, but I bite my lower lip, the only sign of my
sense of guilt. He actually doesn’t seem that angry. He’s speaking calmly.
Maybe he won’t whack me.
“Is
it forever or just for today?”
This
question makes me jerk my head up. I look at him, eyes wide. “What?”
“Do
you not want to continue in general or have you taken a break just for today?
I’d like to know. I admit that I didn’t enjoy waiting around for you for an
hour and I wouldn’t want to repeat the experience.”
I
look away and sigh deeply. “Oh Andrea!” I come over to the black couch and let
myself drop down onto it, resting my elbows on my knees and hiding my face in
my hands.
I
hear him move and then feel the couch sink beneath his weight. He doesn’t say
anything, he just waits. Perhaps he’s tired of continually pushing me to open
up. Suddenly I realized how all this must seem in his eyes and, frankly, I
don’t know how it is that he’s still here. I can’t seem to take my hands from
my face though and, still hidden, I say, “I’m uncomfortable…”
“That’s
strange, I’ve never heard that word come out of your mouth before…” He replies
sarcastically.
I
take a deep breath and force myself to take my hands from my face, but I don’t
turn towards him… One step at a time. “I’m embarrassed about the things I told
you, for… what you know now.”
“Olly…”
He sighs. “Embarrassed about what?”
I’m
quiet and then I make an effort to look at him. I’ve done the wrong thing. He’s
very close, his eyes are too close, his body and his shoulders and his mouth… all…
too… close. I jump up, but I compel myself to stay where I am. “The things I
told you are embarrassing.”
He
is silent for a second and then he gets up, turns me around and puts a finger
under my chin, delicately lifting my face. “Look at me.”
I
reluctantly raise my eyes, reddening.
“There
is nothing for you to be embarrassed about. Nothing.” Then he adds, “You’re not
the one who should be ashamed.”
I
lower my eyes again. “I told you very… intimate… things. And I don’t even know
if I can trust you.” When he doesn’t answer I continue, “Maybe you’ve already
told everything to Nic and you’ve had a couple of laughs on me. Maybe you’ll
tell everything to your friends or to the girls you go out with, calling me
something like ‘that obese loser’ who you work with in your spare time.”
He
gives my shoulders a shake and instinctively I look up and meet his magnificent
eyes,
which seem like pools of crystal
clear water. “Just for starters, in case you haven’t yet noticed, you’re not
obese. On the contrary, you’re almost not overweight anymore. And you know what
I say? Maybe you don’t even have to get to the weight we agreed upon, you’re
already fine like this.”
I
immediately tear my gaze away from him and he gives me another small shake
until I look at him. “In the second place, if you don’t trust me, this thing
won’t work and the money which you’ve already paid me has been thrown away. And
third, have you ever heard of professional secrecy? I’m held to professional
secrecy too.”
Unexpectedly,
this manages to make me laugh. “Well, really? Even personal trainers have
professional secrecy?”
“Of
course,” he answers nodding vigorously, all seriousness. “We know the weights
of women, if we don’t have professional secrecy, I don’t know who has it.”
I
laugh and he automatically smiles. “Do I have to remind you that the first day,
at the moment with the scale, you threatened to kill me?”
I
hide my face in my hands again. “Oh!” My voice comes out muffled.
He
laughs and slowly takes my hands from my face. “Olly,” he says with a voice so
sweet that I’m forced to look up. “Don’t be afraid, the things you told me will
remain between us, always. And we won’t speak about them anymore if you don’t
want to, but it was important for me to do it. For your trust in me and to put
you in front of your past, to face what you’re reluctant to face.”
I
nod, a little warm and red in the face, but I already feel better than
yesterday.
“Before
wrapping up this discussion…” Andrea says as though he suddenly remembered
something. “Can I ask you something which I’ve been thinking about for hours?”
“What?”
I ask, immediately curious.
“What
happened to Donato Poggi?”
“Oh,”
I shrug. “I think he went to the high school for surveyors.”
“So
you haven’t seen him again?”
“No.
Thank God no. He wasn’t among those who went to the classics high-school. And
after…” I lift my shoulders. “Up to now I’ve had the good fortune not to meet
him again.”
Andrea
reflects for a moment. “What did he look like?”
“Physically?
He was brown-haired with brown eyes and he was short and skinny, but who knows
how he is now.”
“Brown
hair, surveyor…” Andrea summarizes as though he were memorizing data for a
homework assignment.
“Why?”
He
looks at me, narrowing his eyes. “If I should meet him around, can I beat him
to a pulp?”
I
laugh shaking my head, but stop, surprised, when I hear Nic’s voice, “Who do
you want to beat to a pulp?”
We
both turn towards the door, then Andrea turns to look at me for a second before
looking back at Nic and saying, “You, obviously. Who deserves to be beaten to a
pulp more than you?”
Nic
laughs. “Yeah sure, you’d bite it right away against me!”
Behind
Nic, Linda and Marco appear with bottles in their hands.
I
laugh, because I can’t imagine anyone winning against Andrea in anything
physical. I know that probably there are people more over-the-top fit than he
is – people who run more and faster, who have stronger arms and are more
powerful in general - but up till now I haven’t met them.
Nic
looks at me, furrowing his brow. “Hey, what’s this laughing? You don’t think
I’d beat him?”
I
raise my hands without commenting, still smiling. “I don’t know and I don’t
want to know. This evening I wouldn’t have come out if it hadn’t been for your
complaining and whining.”
“Whining!”
Exclaims Nic indignantly.
“I’m
just here for the foosball. Step up, come on!” I continue as though he hadn’t
spoken.
Nic,
Andrea and I go to the foosball table, while Linda and Marco set up the pool
table. I already know what they’ll do because I’ve seen them do it a thousand
times. They’ll pretend to play while flirting the whole time, taking every
opportunity to brush against or touch each other, as though they didn’t brush
up or touch each other enough without the excuse of playing pool. I pause a
second to watch them, thinking how nice it must be to never get enough of each
other and to have the opportunity to keep trying to satisfy an endless hunger.
When
I turn towards the foosball, I find Nic busy trying to recover the balls and
Andrea watching me. He indicates Marco and Linda with his eyes and gestures
with his hand as though to say, “What?”
I
shrug. “Nothing.”
Nic
looks up and, smiling, aims at a ball. “Are you ready?”
“Are
you
ready,” I reply. If there is something I’m good at, it’s foosball. For
years it was my standard answer when someone asked me if I did any sports.
We
begin a sort of tournament, but when I realize after a handful of games that
Andrea is hopeless, I get a brilliant idea. Very brilliant. Exceptionally
brilliant.
I
wait for Nic to say, with his elegant manners, “I’m going for a piss”, to turn
towards Andrea with a diabolical smile. “Let’s play a game, you and I.”
“The
ones we’ve played up to now weren’t enough for you?”
I
puff, crossing my arms on my chest. “I don’t know… something was missing…” I
pretend to have a sudden flash. “I just thought of something that could revive
this game a little. Why don’t we make a bet, you know, to make things more
interesting?”
He
narrows his eyes without saying anything.
“If
I win, for a week you’ll be in my power. You’ll have to do everything I tell
you to – everything,” I continue, still excited by this opportunity for
revenge. Then with an innocent air I ask, “And if you win, what would you
like?”
He
crosses his arms. “I seem to have heard from someone that having a competition
between two people whose levels are very, very different is a farce…”
“Really?”
I answer, raising my eyebrows. “I’ve never heard that. I’ve heard that a race
is a race and whoever loses has to honor his defeat.”
He
huffs. “Ok then. If I win… the same. For a week you’ll do everything that I
decide to do.”
“Ok,”
I say quickly. Anyway he won’t win.
I
can’t help but smile. I smile as we near the foosball table, one on one side,
one on the other; I smile as I prepare the balls and wind back the score
markers on the sides; I smile as I unbutton my cardigan. For this game I want
to be at my best and I want to be comfortable.