‘Sara!’
My thoughts are, probably fortunately, interrupted by a voice that I do not recognise, at least until I see the face it belongs to.
Sara turns around and for the first time I see her smile, at her colleague who was with her on the first day of the course.
‘Ele! What’s up?’
‘You left your flash drive in the computer! What’s going on with you these days?’
But Sara’s answer escapes me, because they move away. Shit! My plan will go up in smoke if I don’t hurry. Why can’t I move?
‘Looking for someone?’ A beautiful girl with impressive breasts approaches me, biting her nails and giving me and meaningful look. Any other time I would have answered ‘you,’ but now …
‘Yes, I’m looking for a sociopathic woman who does nothing but complicate my life and get me into trouble,’ I tell her, leaving her behind. I’m furious with myself. Not even in middle school did I take so long to make a girl capitulate. Enough, I decide, I’m going to go over there, and… and…
‘Do you know that stalking is a crime?’
I jump. Surprised from behind!
‘I am sure of it now: you’re trying to get rid of me,’ I retort.
‘Unfortunately you seem to have thick skin, because yes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do, but nothing I do seems to be working. Can you tell why the hell you were spying on me?’
Now… my strategy… Caesar against the Gauls. Destroy the enemy, Teo.
‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ I reply with one of my special smiles, designed to make the panties drop. ‘I just wanted to talk to you.’ And I infuse the word ‘talk’ with erotic implications that usually open every door, but that have no effect on her.
‘Too bad I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Too bad you need to talk to me, because we have a joint project,’ I reply, returning to argumentative mode. Confuse the enemy and win the day.
‘You have a project, not me.’
This woman will drive me crazy. ‘You agreed to it in front of witnesses!’
‘I can always say that I was drunk!’
‘And I’m sure they wouldn’t struggle to believe it, but… is it really in your interests?’
She looks at me with incomprehension. ‘What are you talking about? Of course it’s in my interests! I’d rather have an enema than work with you.’
I chuckle. ‘Hey, whatever you’re into, but I can always put my…’
‘Not a word more!’ she interrupts me, blushing with fury and embarrassment. ‘I know perfectly well what goes through that dirty mind of yours, and I don’t want to hear it.’
‘You must have a dirty mind too, since you seem to have understood what I was going for…’ I observe dryly.
‘I hate you, it’s official!’
‘Too bad, because I don’t hate you…’
There, bomb dropped. The strategy has begun. We are in a state of red alert.
‘Give me a break!’ she snorts. Enemy resistance: predictable. Time to change tactics.
‘Listen, I admit I’m kind of an arsehole sometimes.’
‘Only sometimes?’
I roll my eyes. This woman never lets me finish a speech properly.
‘Let’s say more than a few times, okay? But you’re no saint either, my dear. And anyway, what did I do that was so wrong? I got you some publicity.’
‘You ridiculed me in front of a hall full of people!’
‘I gave you the opportunity to shine, something that your darling professor will never do.’
She moves threateningly towards me and jabs at my breastbone with one of her small fingers. ‘Don’t you dare talk about him! You’re not even worthy of mentioning his name.’
The irritation makes my stomach burn. It’s just not possible that she prefers a tedious old git like that to a sex-god like me. It’s just… a matter of principle… God knows I’ve repeated it to the point of nausea. And I will repeat it another three million times.
‘I’ll mention him as much as I like. I know what he did. And I know what you want from him. I also offered you my help to catch him’
‘Help I refused, if you remember.’
‘Because you think you can do it by yourself, when it’s clear that you have no competence whatsoever in this field.’
Ok, I maybe could have kept that remark to myself. Her contemptuous look confirms it.
‘I’ll say it again: my private life is none of your business. I can decide to live in chastity or give it up to the first man that passes, that is my decision.’
Some students turn to look at us, perplexed.
I take her hand, which she has leaned on my chest, in the ridiculous attempt to push me away. David against Goliath. Wait… how did that story end?
Her gaze travels from my face to our hands and her eyes flash as though struck by lightning.
‘Let go of my hand,’ she orders
‘Help me with the format.’
She sighs, irritated. To tell the truth, it’s not like I’m holding her hand with any kind of force, she could easily escape my grip, but this is an ideological battle for her. Apparently questions of principle are important to her, too.
‘The format is a load of bollocks!’
‘A load of bollocks that has already been sold to two television channels…’ I counter, making her start. In fact this is impossible, because we haven’t created anything to sell yet, but since she doesn’t know how it works… I decide to take advantage. Meanwhile, our hands still haven’t moved.
‘That says a lot about the quality of television content…’
‘Well then, wouldn’t you like to help raise the quality of television content? Since you’re not likely to be raising anything else?’
My off-colour joke clearly bothers her, because the pressure of her hand on my chest gets stronger. With a sudden shove, she throws me back and I find myself pinned with my back to the tree trunk.
‘You’re starting to annoy me with these allusions. Not everything revolves around sex. Get over yourself.’
‘Hey, half the female population of Naples have got themselves over me,’ I provoke her by sniggering. I like making her angry, it’s the best way to forget that strange feeling I get in my stomach whenever she’s close. She irritates me so much that my gastric walls are about to disintegrate.
‘I don’t want to listen to this any more, leave me alone,’ she replies, taking her hand from mine and… shit! I do not like this feeling.
Because I don’t like losing control, you understand. I grab her fugitive hand again with both of my own and pull her towards me, making her lose her balance. She falls with her head against my chest and I take the opportunity to squeeze her shoulders and bend down to look her straight in the eye.
‘The truth is that I’m fucked without you,’ I confess.
Man, I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore. Ah yes, the format.
She doesn’t seem impressed at all. ‘Get fucked then. I’m sorry, but I don’t see why I should help you.’
‘Because I helped you too.’
‘Since I met you, you have done nothing but get me into trouble.’
‘I made your life more fun!’
‘You’ve made life impossible for me! I’d rather break my word and risk losing my chair, but I have do have my dignity to maintain. I’ll apologise to everyone and settle things. My things, not yours. You can go to hell, and your company with you.’
‘Then who would make internships available for your students?’
Here I am again in strategy mode, this time using the weapon of threat.
‘You can’t afford to stop internships! It would be harmful to you,’ says Sara, raising an eyebrow. Another misfire.
‘Maybe you’re right, but maybe it’s also true that I enjoy putting you in difficulty and I’m always looking for new ways to do it.’
My hand moves up from her shoulder to her cheek. The memory of our last kiss hits me like a th
underbolt and I tremble a little. Mind and body can play cruel tricks, sometimes. My thumb describes small circles on the smooth skin and I feel a slight shiver pass through her too.
‘Go out with me,’ I whisper, almost without realizing it. I had prepared a convincing speech and now I’ve ruined it all with a single sentence that fell out of my mouth from I don’t know where.
‘You are bipolar,’ is her answer. I’m actually offended by this observation.
‘People normally reply with a yes or a no,’ I observe, trying to hide my irritation. But she doesn’t soften in any way.
‘And what’s the normal response to someone you insults you one minute, calling you ugly, and the next minute asks you on a date? What sane woman would accept?’
‘I never said you were ugly,’ I protest.
‘Sure you did. At my sister’s wedding.’
Of course. She’s right. I did. And I meant it too.
‘Ok, I said you were ugly, but now…’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. You just want to bribe me.’
‘You have a high opinion of me,’ I consider, frowning.
‘Forgive me, but your personality is so transparent that I can hardly do otherwise.’
Our faces, meanwhile, are moving ever closer. Well, I am moving ever closer, bending towards her. The last sentence she said was barely a whisker from my lips and, for pity’s sake, I’ll have to tell her to change perfume because whatever she’s using is too strong. It makes my head spin and it’s not pleasant. All for nothing.
But generals cannot surrender under any circumstances. They must sell their lives dearly.
‘I really do want to go out with you,’ I insist. ‘The Nutcracker is much nicer if you have someone to see it with.’
A flash of interest takes her. ‘The Nutcracker?’
Bingo! A crack in the fortifications. ‘Yeah… I’ve got a couple of tickets for Saturday. I love ballet and…’
‘You love ballet?’ she echoes in disbelief.
I adopt my poker face and try not to laugh. ‘Sure, why not? I grew up on bread and Nureyev.’
She finally smiles at me. Now – now she is going to fall.
‘I can hardly believe it,’ she whispers, still unconvinced.
‘Well, if you want to test my good faith, we could talk about it on Saturday, sitting in our private box.’
I feel her falter. ‘What stage?’ She finally asks.
‘We’d have a great view… and I can use my contacts to get you backstage.’
As if as I had suggested that she meet the Rolling Stones, Sara lights up and hops from one foot to the other, with the result that her perfume overpowers me again in waves, forcing me to retreat a little to a safe distance. I can’t afford to lose my head now.
‘So I could meet the dancers?’ she enthuses.
‘If you like…’
She has fought well, but now she is about to surrender.
‘This doesn’t mean I’m going to help you with the format.’
I smile at her. ‘Of course, I understand,’ I lie.
‘And I will not facilitate you in any way with your semiotics examination.’
‘Clear,’ I consent.
‘Ok. I accept. On one condition. I’ll meet you there.’
‘Can’t I pick you up?’
She shakes her head vigorously. ‘l forbid it. This it’s not a date. I’m just taking advantage of you. ‘
‘Dr. Doria, I am shocked. I thought you were incorruptible,’ I observe, chuckling.
‘And I am. Don’t get any ideas about it. In this moment I am merely applying a bit of healthy selfishness.’
‘As you wish,’ I concede, exulting inwardly.
You don’t know it, baby, but this is just the beginning. You will break, you will beg me, you will love me. And I will finally be satisfied.
16
Sara
It’s a terrible idea. Going out with Teo is a terrible idea, but I couldn’t say no to the ballet. I’ve been searching high and low for tickets. Could I really have turned down an opportunity like that?
I couldn’t, of course, yet now here I am in the back of a taxi headed for the San Carlo, with a thousand unresolved doubts running through my mind. I’m wearing simple pants and a blouse. Both in black, to disguise my hips a little.
But then… why do I care if my hips are showing or not? I’m not trying to impress him!
I’m so preoccupied with these incoherent ramblings of mine that I don’t even notice that we have arrived at the entrance of the Galleria Umberto.
‘Twenty euros, madam,’ prompts the taxi driver, ushering me out of cab. I observe the comings and goings of people gathering under the dome to demolish sugar-dusted sfogliatelle or grab a coffee. I wonder what plans they have for the evening. Perhaps they are going to the ballet, or to a restaurant, or taking a stroll along the seafront.
Our rendezvous is under the arcades, in front of the theatre. ‘People will think we’re secret lovers,’ an amused Teo told me when we arranged the location. I swear I don’t know how an idea like that jumped into his mind. We are not lovers, secret or otherwise.
There he is, leaning against a column. He is perfectly groomed, and even looks halfway intelligent, with a watchful eye trained on the bustling crowd of people, and the cars that blare their horns and light up the road.
‘Hey,’ I begin, a little uncertain how to continue. What do you say to someone you hate but have decided to tolerate for one night?
Teo’s gaze travels slowly along the length of my body. I would like to say that this is a sensual moment, but not a bit of it. What I read in his eyes is not admiration.
‘Why don’t you ever wear something colourful? You always look like you’re going to a funeral.’
His tone is neutral and does not betray emotions, but I still feel disproportionately angry about it.
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll decide how to dress myself. I don’t make comments about your clothes.’
‘Because I look good in everything,’ he retorts smugly, and the worst thing is that he’s right. I can’t remember ever having seen him looking scruffy or badly dressed.
And to be honest, he’d make a bin liner look like an expensive suit anyway.
‘Well black looks good with everything too, so I’m fine, thanks. Anyway, look who’s talking! Aren’t you the man who dressed in mourning for a wedding?’
‘Yeah, well, better to dress in mourning than to dress like my grandmother.’
Ok, this is too much. He can go to hell, him and the ballet. ‘On second thoughts, this was not a good idea. I’m calling a taxi and going home,’ I hiss, trying unsuccessfully to turn around. He stops me.
His expression has changed. He looks disappointed, and it’s ridiculous because I know he doesn’t really want to spend the evening with me. It’s just a dirty trick to try and cheat an exam that he will never pass.
‘Don’t be like that,’ he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. Recently we seem to have been touching too much. Way too much. But for some reason I don’t bite his head off. I just look at the hand and then back at him.
‘What do you want from me?’ I ask, exhausted. I can’t stand this tedious farce much longer.
‘I just want to go to the theatre. And you should appreciate the honesty. Would you prefer a man who lies to flatter you? I’m telling you upfront: I don’t like how you dress. You look so severe, and there’s no need for it. You have beautiful skin and you don’t show it off enough.’
I raise both eyebrows in disbelief. ‘What, are you a stylist now?’
‘No, but I have slept with a few models, so I do have some expertise in women’s fashion.’
I can’t help but laugh.
His total absence of filters makes Teo a ridiculous, and at times infuriating creature, but I must admit that, if nothing else, he is completely sincere when he comes out with this stuff. Maybe too sincere, but since I already know I’m never going to be a cover g
irl and I can’t stay offended for long.
‘You’re incorrigible, Teo.’
‘I suppose that’s true. Anyway, I like how my name sounds when you say it.’
I huff in annoyance. I kind of like it too, but I would never admit that. ‘Look, I’m not falling for it. You can continue this ridiculous attempt at courtship until you’re blue in the face. I. Don’t. Believe. You.’
Teo’s hand moves down from my shoulder, along my arm to then links his fingers with mine. I let him do it but I don’t return the gesture. If I did it I don’t know what turn this strange evening would take.
‘You realise what you’re doing makes no sense at all?’ I observe, shaking my head.
‘Oh come on, let’s have some fun. Don’t you enjoy making people believe something that isn’t true, wind them up a bit?’
‘Firstly, I don’t like to make fun of people. And secondly, I see no reason why this would be fun for me.’
‘The charm of the unusual, Sara. Pretend it’s Carnival and you can go crazy for just one day. Bahktin would approve. Do you see that I have studied something?’ he confides with a clever wink.
The revelation resets any reply I might have had. I’ve no idea how to interpret this strange moment when we seem to almost get along. I decide that we shouldn’t waste any more time and let him guide me to the theatre. The show will be starting in a matter of minutes.
*
‘But it can’t be real!’
I roll my eyes. Teo has been ranting on about this since the beginning of the first act, and while I pretended to be scandalised at first, he’s getting a little repetitive, and it’s starting to bore me. It’s not an ideal way of spending the interval.
‘Teo, there’s no way of finding out whether its real or not, but there are other elements to the show, you know? Maybe if you try looking at the choreography instead of the …’
‘He must have put something down there, it’s against the laws of physics!’
‘Why don’t you ask him later, in the dressing rooms?’
‘You want me to ask a dancer if his package is real or padded? Do you think that’s a wise move?’
‘You’ve been going on about this all the way through the show. If you want to know, ask him.’
Not My Type Page 10