‘No, my boy, it’s a very effective way of bankrupting the business. And I’m not going to sit back and let you do it, I’m sorry.’
So that’s it. Now I’m really starting to worry. If all it takes is to endure a lecture every so often, I can handle the annoyance without a problem. But this is different. This time he sounds like he means it.
‘The party’s over,’ he says, looking me straight in the eye, and for the first time I’m genuinely scared. It looks like I’m going to have to start working seriously.
‘Dad… I…’ I begin, but he raises his hand to silence me.
‘I’ve already let you waste too much of your time and money. It’s time for you grow up.’
‘I’m thirty-two,’ I remind him.
‘Exactly. And all you know how to do is leech off other people. From now on you will have to earn every single cent of your salary. And what’s more, you will have to do something concrete to improve yourself.’
‘I don’t need improvement!’ It’s true. I am pretty much perfect.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve built your life around style over substance. It’s time for you to do something real.’
He’s really serious! Now, he wants to straighten me out?
After years of letting me do what I wanted?
‘I can be serious, really I can. And if you just give me some extra duties or something, I promise to behave. At least for a few months.’
‘Not good enough,’ he shakes his head.
‘What is it you want? My balls on a silver plate?’
‘Don’t exaggerate. I want to do something to help you, and with that in mind I’ve decided to invest a little more of my money to give you something.’
This is more like it! Gifts are always welcome. ‘What is it?
A car? In fact mine has been having some problems…’
‘I paid your university debts,’ he reveals, evidently very pleased with himself.
‘What for?’ I ask incredulously.
‘So you can start studying again.’
‘But I’m not going to start studying again!’
I’d rather poke my eyes out with red hot pokers.
‘Too bad you’re not in a position to decide. You are currently of no use to this company. Either complete your studies and make sense of your role here, or I’ll fire you and you can take care of yourself. ‘
‘Would you really do this to your only son?’ I try to appeal to his better nature.
‘I am already doing it. One day you’ll thank me for it. It’s for your own good.’
‘What the hell am I going to do in a group of kids just out of school? I’ll look ridiculous!.’
My father remains as hard as granite. ‘You’ll just have to deal with it. You chose communication sciences at the time. I supported you, because I thought it might really interest you. You screwed it up the first time, but I won’t let you do it this time. You will take those bloody books back and get yourself a degree to hang in your office. You will actually participate in the activities of our company. You will work your arse off like I had to do. Otherwise, you can go and sleep in a cardboard box. The choice is yours.’
I rub my jaw, completely taken aback. I’m not used to work, and I’m even less used to studying, but apparently my father has me over a barrel.
‘Is that your last word on the matter?’ I ask, vainly hoping he might reconsider, even now.
‘My last and only word,’ he confirms with a wicked smile.
Fuck. I’m in it up to my neck this time.
8
Sara
Wednesday arrives before we know it. The new academic year has arrived, so let the games begin!
New year, new students, new projects. Semiotics is the most hated and feared course, particularly by kids who enrol thinking that all you need to get by is to be an expert on TV shows. I like my job, and I like my subject, but if I’m honest, I sometimes wish I could see the same enthusiasm in the people I teach.
‘So, are you ready to meet our shiny new students?’ Eleonora asks, giving me a hand with my slides and presentations.
‘Of course. I wonder if there will be anyone from last semester.’
‘Can you remember how many of them you flunked?’
‘Not many. I’m too nice sometimes.’
Eleonora tries to hold back her laughter, but fails. ‘You? Haven’t you noticed the students making the sign of cross whenever you pass them in the corridor?’ she teases me.
I give her an amused smile. ‘Is that so? I never realised I was so frightening. I suppose it’s understandable to be afraid of the person who grades your papers, but I swear I haven’t actually eaten anyone yet. ‘
‘You know I’m only joking. You’re not completely terrifying. Just very, very serious.’
‘Some people would consider that a virtue,’ I say. ‘There are some things I just can’t joke about.’
‘Thank goodness I’ve already graduated,’ she says.
‘Hey, I’d have given you a first class degree with honours.’
‘I’m sure you would. Even if you are the only person in this place that appreciates me.’
‘They’ll realise one day. Genius doesn’t stay hidden for long.’
An odd expression, somewhere between doubt and annoyance, flickers across her face. I don’t have time to think about it though, because the academic year has begun, and I have to get going.
‘Do you have the presentation with you, Ele?’
‘It’s right here. I’m at your beck and call.’
‘Well. Then we’d better show these kids what they’re going to be studying this year.’
As as I enter the large and well-lit lecture theatre, I notice immediately that the turnout of students is considerable. The crowd falls silent as I enter, full of expectations for the future.
I don’t stand behind the desk, I don’t like it. I lean on one side and take the microphone, looking at the front row.
‘This degree course is a waste of time,’ I begin.
A low murmur spreads through the crowd of students, echoing around the auditorium.
‘This degree course is useless: that’s what they say, the detractors, those who want to diminish the meaning of your journey. And I say they are right.’
The murmur intensifies: I’ve captured their attention.
‘Unless you can prove them wrong. You have chosen this degree course out of passion, am I right? ‘
Some giggles, but no answers. For the moment, they’re still feeling self-conscious.
‘Well, I’m sure you’re not here to just to waste time, but because you have a dream. You are here because you want a career in communication. And that takes guts, passion and strength. Don’t ever forget it.’
The noise of shuffling in seats, a nervous cough, but no one moves.
‘And if you forget your goals, I’ll be here to remind you of them. I want you to come to the end of this course knowing you’ve done a good job.’
‘Man, I told you she was a sadist,’ I hear a voice say at the back. A ripple of nervous laughter. I glance around the auditorium to try and identify who spoke, but I don’t want to give too much weight to the thing, so I press ahead, pretending not to have heard.
‘Now, you’ll be wondering what we are going do on this course. Am I right?.’
A few heads nod and I give them a little smile.
‘Good! We have prepared a short presentation with the complete programme and set texts.’
‘Woohoo! Is it a porno?’ asks that same voice from the back of the class. Where is the little smart-arse?
‘Who said that?’ I demand, unable to suppress a wave of anger.
The classroom is a sea of anonymous faces. I narrow my eyes and try to focus, but the big wit, apparently, has decided not to reveal themselves. If I wasn’t afraid of sounding crazy, and if it was not entirely impossible, I would say that voice reminds me of…
‘Sara, do you want me to project the
first slide?’ whispers Eleonora next to me.
I nod, continuing to scan the crowd. Our names and a list of textbooks appear on the screen. Some take notes, some don’t, a couple of kids on the front row stare at me as if I were a mythological being. In short, pretty normal.
‘We will start the course with the key concepts of semiotics. You will meet its founders, de Saussure and Peirce, and then move on to contemporary schools. The first few lessons may seem difficult, as we will be discussing concepts that are completely new to you. If anyone has any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. At the end of each lesson, you will have the opportunity to speak to me one-to-one, and I will try to clarify any concerns you may have.’
‘Yes, doctor! We are all hanging on your every word!’
This time I turn around at the speed of light and there’s nowhere for him to hide.
I catch a hurried movement and a figure hunkered down behind a particularly voluminous head of curls.
‘Ok, I see you. Come on, don’t be shy. Let’s all have a look at you,’ I invite it, trying to keep the irritation from my voice.
A figure slowly emerges from behind the mass of curls and…
Oh, God, please blast me on the spot!
That smug expression, dark hair and impertinent smile. Where the hell did he come from? I thought I’d seen the last of him after the wedding. What is he doing on my course, for Christ’s sake? What hideous crime can I ever have committed to deserve a punishment like this?
‘Did you miss me?,’ he has the nerve to ask. A giggle erupts from the crowd and something snaps in my brain. Is he trying to make me a laughing-stock?
‘This course is limited entry. I don’t believe you’ve been admitted, Mr….? ‘
‘You don’t remember my name? I’m Teo. Teo Pagani. The official, the original.’
There are a couple of wolf-whistles from somewhere at the back, and I can feel my face flush red with fury. The anger that simmers inside me threatens to boil over and catch fire. I imagine flames shooting from my nostrils and melting those ridiculous sunglasses of his, but it doesn’t really help.
‘Signor Pagani,’ I begin, trying to keep my voice from shaking. ‘I would ask you to sit outside, please. This course is for members only.’
‘But I’ve signed up!’ he exclaims with a dazzling smile. Some girl turns to look at him with a dreamy expression on her face.
‘No, no, no, that’s not possible. You’re… I mean…’
‘Too old? I prefer ‘experienced’.’
More laughter. I need to nip this in the bud if I don’t want to lose my credibility.
‘Right. Well you and your experience can do me a favour and sit outside, please.’ I say in a firm and peremptory voice. The students in the front row cower slightly and I feel less ridiculous.
As if I hadn’t spoken, Teo saunters down the flight of stairs that separates us and places itself in front of the projector. He appears to study the program carefully, and after a while he moves to one side and winks at Eleonora, who stares at me in bewilderment.
‘Looks like an interesting program… are there any field trips? ‘
‘This isn’t high school, Mr Pagani’ I reproach him, trying to close the projector. Teo grabs my hand, and with the other, he reaches over and presses the button to see the next slide.
‘How the hell is it possible to study all this stuff?’ he mutters to himself.
‘Anything is possible if you really want to do it,’ I mutter, batting him away.
‘Is that an indecent proposal, Doctor?,’ he murmurs, low enough to add a sensual tone to his voice, but loud enough to be heard in the front rows, prompting further hilarity.
‘Mr. Pagani, that will do!’ I say, raising my voice.
‘Wow! That’s a very authoritarian tone of voice. My sadism theory is looking more and more plausible, I’d say.’
After that, everything happens in a fraction of a second. Sometimes, something inside you just snaps, and you’re not entirely responsible for your actions.
I grab Teo roughly by the arm, amid murmurs from the crowd. Ignoring his protests, I drag him over to the door.
‘Eleonora, can you take over?’ I ask my colleague, who is quick to assume control and restore calm in the classroom.
I half-carry, half-push him out into the corridor.
I feel an overpowering desire to slap him.
Never before have I had such a disproportionate reaction towards anyone, but then no one has ever tried so hard to insult me and undermine my credibility in public before.
Words come out of my mouth like tongues of fire. I feel like an avenging angel.
‘If you don’t want me to kill you where you stand, you’d better tell me right now what you are doing in my university.’
He smiles at me. What the fuck is he smiling about? Does he not understand that I am about to destroy him? If I were him I would be shaking in my boots.
‘Why kill me so soon when you have the whole semester to do it?’
‘It’s not possible, you’re too old to go to university.’
‘And you don’t look like a teacher. Actually, no, that’s wrong, you look like a teacher in every possible way. I probably would have bet on a repressed librarian, given how nerdy you are, but apparently not. You’re not a librarian, you’re just repressed.’
‘You’d better start changing your plans for the year. There are plenty of other courses you can take.’
His smile widens into a wicked grin. ‘Oh, no. I have no intention of changing the courses. In fact, now that I think about it, I have a wonderful idea.’
And then the realisation hits me:
Teo is here to make this academic year a living hell, and I get the feeling he will prove to be naturally gifted at that particular area of study.
9
Teo
Knowing that you’re being watched is never pleasant. All the more so when it’s your father doing it.
I arrived at the faculty with all the vitality of a sloth and the desire to study of an amoeba. I never dreamed I would make such a providential encounter.
Sure, I almost lost an arm. She’s got a grip of iron, that woman. I did enjoy winding her up in front of everyone… and this is only the beginning, because I’ve decided to exploit this situation to my own advantage.
‘I have a wonderful idea,’ I announce, as if it were the invention of the century. And from my point of view it certainly is. I have absolutely no intention of actually working hard and studying for my exam the way anyone else would. I’m not just anyone, I’m Teo Pagani, for God’s sake! I need to defend my reputation as an incurable layabout!
‘I don’t want to hear anything that comes out of your mouth,’ Sara retorts. Sorry, Dr. Doria.
Dr. Doria. An impressive title for a tiny ball of fury that stands in front of me, looking like she could kill me with her eyes, and would like to try.
‘Believe me, I could put my mouth in places where you would be very happy with what came out of it…’
‘That’s gross. I’m calling security,’ she hisses, making for the stairs.
I grab her by the shoulders and put my mouth to her ear.
‘Not so fast. I haven’t told you my idea,’ I whisper softly. She has a delicate scent, like baby powder. It is an angelic perfume, completely at odds with the person herself, who is more like a devil in human form.
She pulls away, glaring as though she could devour me in one gulp. By now, I have grown accustomed to her questionable appearance. I can’t appreciate it, but there is an odd sort of familiarity, and I find myself strangely unwilling to tear my eyes away from her. Today she’s wearing a grey suit that gives her an even more stern and inflexible air.
‘You can keep your idea. It will either be incredibly stupid, or shamefully dishonest. Probably both.’
‘Obviously it’s dishonest. I couldn’t dream up a virtuous scheme even if I wanted to. As to whether it’s stupid or not, I wouldn’t like to say, seeing as
it could get me what I need without effort. You’re not curious about what I have in mind?’
‘Not even slightly.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I’m going to pass this semi… tropic… whatever it’s called …’
‘Semiotics. And not knowing how to pronounce it isn’t the best start,’ she says.
I narrow my eyes.
‘Yes, that. Semiotics. I will pass with at least a 2:1, maybe a first.’
She mutters something under her breath, and runs her hand through her hair, exasperated. Hmm, has she changed her conditioner? It doesn’t seem as frizzy as last time I saw her.
‘Listen. I don’t know what you’re planning here or why your desire to study has suddenly reawakened with age, but that little display earlier has not been the most promising debut. I think you should reconsider your options.’
‘Well, I’m not going to,’ I reply firmly.
‘What is it that you want? Are you trying to ruin my life?’ she wails. Why is she so desperate to be rid of me anyway? She should just be grateful for the opportunity to talk to the most beautiful man within a hundred mile radius.
‘Hey, it’s nothing personal, Sara.’
‘Doctor Doria,’ she corrects me.
‘Well, if you like role-playing games…’
‘Mr. Pagani!’
‘Wow, you’re so formal! Anyway, doctor, like I said, it’s nothing personal, I don’t want to give anyone a hard time, I just want to graduate and get back to my old life.’
‘You mean being a playboy twenty-four hours a day?’
‘Pretty much, yes. But there’s a problem …’
‘And what might that be?’ she asks condescendingly.
‘Well… my father cut off my allowance. He wants me to make something of my life, so he’s decided to send me back to university.’
Why am I telling her all this? I’m supposed to be letting her know the plan, not pouring my heart out.
This woman has a detrimental effect on my ability to reason. I expect her lack of sex appeal is melting my brain cells or something.
‘I don’t give a crap about your family troubles. Your father is right, although he should have done it years ago. Your brain is all clogged up by stupidity at this point, and I’m certainly not going to be the one to descale it!’
Not My Type Page 5