Not My Type

by Anna Zarlenga

  Teo seems to think about it. ‘No, you ask him!’

  ‘You’re not right in the head! I’m not interested in how well-endowed the dancers are. Or anyone else, to be clear,’ I hasten to add.

  My crazy escort rests an elbow on the cornicing and turns to me. ‘Should I believe that?’

  ‘Oh God, you’re so predictable. I don’t want to hear an ode to your manhood. I know very well the high opinion you have of it.’

  Teo doesn’t reply, but smiles with satisfaction. It’s strange how we can talk about smutty things and I don’t feel embarrassed. Maybe it’s because I have no expectations of any kind. I can be completely myself with Teo, and I must admit that it is quite relaxing. If you have no ulterior motives, a chat is exactly what it seems: a simple, meaningless chat. Even if the topic centres upon the alleged use of phallic prostheses by ballet dancers.

  ‘Did you notice that first guy, for example? It was like he had a ledge to rest his partner’s bum on.’

  Someone, perhaps overhearing shreds of our conversation, mutters in annoyance. I signal for Teo to stop and gesture for him to lower his voice.

  ‘Why don’t you focus on the story instead of all this nonsense?’

  ‘Because I don’t understand a word of it, no matter how hard I try,’ he admits.

  ‘So you were bluffing when you invited me?’ In that case I’d say I was justified in thinking you’re trying to corrupt me!’

  ‘But are you having fun?’ He asks me. What does that have to do with it?

  ‘That’s not the point,’ I reply quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly, now that I think about it.

  ‘Well, I’m having fun too,’ he concludes, leaning back in his chair. I would like to think of some sarcastic jokes, but the lights go down announcing the second act.

  We both fall silent, but not before exchanging a knowing look. Teo smiles and doesn’t seem to want to tease me. His smile seems genuine. It is a decidedly surreal experience.

  Meanwhile the music intensifies and the lights take on a rosy hue. The scenography is amazing, the costumes are light as petals. I already know which part is about to begin.

  ‘The Waltz of the Flowers,’ I whisper. My hand, the traitor,

  instinctively searches for Teo’s, for who knows what stupid reason. Maybe it’s the music, the movements of the dancers, who seem to weigh less than a handful of feathers. Feathers. That’s how they seem to me.

  ‘Look how slight they are, Teo,’ I whisper. My eyes are glued to the stage, but I still feel him watching me. I feel the warmth of his skin. Quietly, he moves closer to me, and the scent of his cologne grows more intense. We stay like that, in silence, until the orchestra plays the last note.

  ‘Tell me what happens in the waltz of flowers. You looked hypnotized,’ Teo asks me when the lights come back on. The time has flown by and I’m still a little dazed. I nod and the words come out almost without my being aware of it.

  ‘Clara is in the Land of Sweets with the Nutcracker prince. The whole court is performing for them. “The Waltz of the Flowers” is one of Tchaikovsky’s most famous pieces. Did you see how delicate the dancer’s skirts were? They looked like they were made of air!’

  The hand that held me close for most of it the show comes alive and envelops my fingers. For the first time I don’t feel the need to remove it. Teo’s breath tickles my ear.

  ‘Did you ever think about dancing?’ He asks. There’s no irony in his voice, it is genuine curiosity.

  ‘I used to, once,’ I confess. Why am I telling him this? What can it matter to someone like him what I did in the past?

  ‘And then?’

  I smile, sadly, watching the empty stage. ‘I was little, I wasn’t good enough. Too short, too chubby. Well, you understand, right?’

  ‘No, I don’t understand.’

  I bite my lip. ‘The teacher told my mother that I couldn’t play Clara in the exam. I didn’t have the right physique.’

  ‘What a total bitch!’ Teo rages, and I smile at him.

  ‘She was only doing her job. Anyway, she was right, don’t you think? I certainly don’t look like one of those girls.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I was offended and left the dance school. If I couldn’t play the main character, I wouldn’t have stayed at the back.’

  Teo remains silent for a few seconds. ‘You had balls from an early age,’ he says and, strangely, I hear a hint of admiration in his voice.

  We have nothing more to say to each other, but we remain still for a while longer: Me with my eyes fixed on the stage and he with his eyes fixed on me, a few inches apart, our hands clasped and breathing slightly accelerated. I have no idea if he’s plotting something or not, but I am all too aware of the fragrance that emanates from him and that is overwhelming me to such an extent that I crave silence and solitude.

  ‘Shall we go to the dressing rooms?’ Teo invites me, his eyes shining like those of a child preparing to dispense Christmas presents.

  ‘You look more enthusiastic than I am,’ I observe.

  ‘I’ve discovered that I like the feeling I get when I steal a smile.’

  I shake my head. ‘All this sweet-talk really doesn’t suit you. But thanks, anyway. Even if your goals were not noble, it’s been a nice evening. An evening that ends here, I’m afraid. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘No dressing rooms, then?’

  I shake my head. ‘I am tired and hungry. I just want to go home and demolish a stuffed brioche. It won’t be an elegant dinner, but I need a good dose of sugar.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, then.’

  ‘That’s not necessary, I can call a taxi.’

  As we leave the theatre, a gust of cold air hits me. I should have worn a jacket.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  The question, the way it hangs on his lips, touches me in an unexpected way.

  ‘No,’ I lie.

  ‘Liar,’ says Teo, taking off his jacket.

  ‘That’s really not necessary,’ I say quickly. It’s too intimate, it embarrasses me.

  ‘Don’t be silly, what sort of knight would I be, otherwise?’

  Ignoring all my protests, he places his jacket over my shoulders. I have to admit that the warmth mixed with that perfume gets under my skin immediately, wrapping me in an intangible bubble.

  ‘Thanks,’ I manage to stutter.

  ‘The Amazon has laid down her arms.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘The Amazon. Come to think of it, you are like an Amazon. Fierce, strong, independent. You don’t need a man to complete you.’

  The analogy amazes and flatters me, but I can’t reply. Maybe I have laid down my arms. Am I losing perspective?

  ‘Do you want to finish the evening with a crazy show?,’ he says suddenly.

  ‘We’ve just seen a show,’ I point out, not understanding what he means.

  ‘This is different. What do you say? Would you like to come on a blind date?’

  I waver. In front of me stands Teo, the least reliable man in the universe.

  ‘I’ll get you a massive brioche,’ he insists and really, who can resist pastries?

  ‘White chocolate,’ I say sternly, hugging the comforting fabric close around my shoulders.

  ‘Deal,’ he agrees, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and causing me a treacherous shiver.

  ‘Deal,’ I echo, full of doubts, but wanting to know what adventure he will drag me on next, this man of a thousand surprises.

  17

  Teo

  ‘Do you want to tell me where we’re going?’

  The Saturday night traffic is truly terrible, especially on the road that leads to the Capodimonte hill.

  She has no idea what my intentions are and that’s fine by me. If this doesn’t surprise her, I don’t know what will.

  ‘A surprise is a surprise,’ I reply, mysteriously.

  ‘Is it that you’re going to take me to a dark place, tear me to pieces and throw me off a cliff?’
/>
  ‘You watch too many murder mysteries.’

  ‘And you’re a dick!’

  ‘I’m using every trick in the book to win you over.’

  I say it jokingly, but she has no idea how serious I am. I’m genuinely pulling out every trick I know to make her fall at my feet. I have never known such a hard nut to crack. You wouldn’t expect it, either, from someone with all the appeal of a fruit basket. In fact there are probably more interesting fruit baskets, from an aesthetic point of view.

  And yet…

  And yet, she may well be mousy, bespectacled and unremarkable, but I hardly noticed it tonight. There were times when it seemed to me that she wasn’t wearing glasses, wasn’t too short or unattractive.

  When she was talking about the ballet, all I wanted to do was to listen. To understand her. To know her. Perhaps it’s a kind of survival instinct. Since I normally wouldn’t sleep with her, I’m trying to find her at least passable. That, or I’ve completely lost my mind. How long is it since I’ve been out on the pull?

  I realise with horror that my sexual activity has been interrupted for almost ten days! My friend down there might stop working unless I remedy this as soon as possible!

  ‘Remember you promised me a brioche,’ she reminds me. Once a teacher, always a teacher.

  ‘Your brioche is waiting for us at our destination.’

  ‘Which is?’

  I shake my head. ‘Wait and see.’

  I hear her snort and curl up on the seat. Looking at her out of the corner of my eye, I notice she has had to roll up the sleeves of my jacket so that her hands can reach through the other side.

  I’ll have to take that jacket to the laundry now; it will be infused with that scent of hers that confuses me so much, and is now also filling the car.

  Laundry and car wash tomorrow. First thing when I wake up. But tomorrow is Sunday! First thing on Monday, then.

  We arrive outside the gates at the place in question, and I quickly pull out my phone and send the prearranged message. A squat and sleepy figure hurries to let us in.

  Parking in the semi-darkness, I motion to Sara to go outside.

  ‘Good evening, Teo,’ the caretaker welcomes me.

  ‘Hi, Gerardo, sorry if I only let you know at the last minute.’

  ‘There are no tours scheduled tonight and no phenomena to be observed. You are alone,’ he replies, winking at me and approaching my ear. ‘If I may say so, I think you’ve made a good choice’ he says, gesturing towards Sara with a sideways nod of his head. Is it possible that someone else thinks she’s cute? Wait! Someone else? Other than who? Because I certainly don’t think she’s cute. Right?

  ‘I always choose well,’ I mumble, confused by myself and my stupid decisions. Specifically the decision that brought me here, to my solitary refuge. A place I usually don’t share with anyone.

  ‘We’re at the observatory!’ exclaims Sara, looking around her. The shrubbery is thick and rather dark, but the small, domed building is clearly visible through the trees.

  ‘Have you ever seen the stars up close?’ I ask her, feeling a kind of delirium, a painful impatience at the thought of ​​showing her my perfect hideaway.

  Sara shakes her head. I see her light up, even in the shadows. She is eager to discover a piece of my world and I am eager to please her.

  We approach the observatory, and with every step I feel like I’m falling. I can’t give up, now, I can’t have doubts or second thoughts. This will be my masterstroke.

  By now I know very well the road that leads me to her fingers, small and tenacious. Tenacious in binding me ever tighter to them and breaking down all my doubts. She squeezes my hand and inside me, something awakens. It’s the satisfaction of having made a step forward with the plan of course, no doubt about that.

  What else could it be?

  ‘Come with me.’

  I lead her easily through the rooms I know so well to the dome. The telescope is already positioned and seems to be waiting for us.

  I leave her to go and adjust the settings and discover with satisfaction the telescope is already pointing towards Venus. A smile spreads across my face, spontaneous and uncontrollable.

  ‘Do you want to see something?’

  Sara nods and approaches. She smoothes her hair to the side as she leans over the lens, exposing her neck.

  She has a pale, delicate neck, that seems to be made of porcelain. Since when did she have a neck like this? I never noticed it before.

  ‘It’s like I could reach out and touch it!’ she says, her voice trembling with… emotion? Joy? Enthusiasm?

  ‘We’re lucky, it’s a clear night. Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s amazing. Thank you,’ she whispers, turning to face me, just as I lean over to check the focus. Once again, our eyes meet, lips a breath from one other. This is the time to pounce, but I can’t. I don’t know why, but I can’t. I’m paralysed by the sweet fragrance that fills my nostrils, by the hushed silence that amplifies the sound of our breathing. The Teo of the past would already have thrown his conquest to the ground and taken what he wanted. But with her I can’t. Here I can’t, the instinct isn’t triggered. This is my place, the place where I never thought of anything else but to look at the stars. Perhaps that’s why I am stuck.

  ‘I haven’t seen that brioche yet,’ she says suddenly, breaking the silence and and bringing me back down to earth.

  ‘I always keep my promises,’ I reply, pulling myself up and motioning for her to follow me. Perhaps for the moment it is better not to touch her. Some fresh air will clear my mind and I can go back to being my usual arsehole self, without any regrets.

  On the terrace there are two loungers placed side by side and a small round table with a plate containing two brioche, as promised. Sara rushes towards the object of her desires, staring in admiration.

  ‘What strings did you have to pull to get in here at night and organize all this?’

  ‘Gerardo’s a friend of mine. We’ve known each other for about ten years and he lets me in on quiet nights to look at the stars.’

  ‘I’d never have guessed you were a stargazer,’ she observes, sitting back on the lounger and then lying down. Her gaze is intent on observing the sky, dark and clear like strong liquor, and punctured by countless points of light. ‘It’s a wonderful show.’

  I follow her around, lying beside her and grabbing my brioche. I chew silently, immersing myself in the surreal silence that surrounds us.

  ‘You don’t fool me, Teo. I know you’re just trying to get around me,’ she suddenly begins.

  Shit, I almost forgot the plan!

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘You’re not a gentleman, you don’t make romantic gestures. Out with it, what do you want?’

  I sigh, despairing of ever finding a way to pierce her heart. She is always so suspicious!

  ‘I think it’s obvious what I want,’ I give up. ‘By now you know my situation a little. I have to prove I am worth something. And I need help.’

  Sara makes a half-turn on the deckchair and leans on her elbows.

  ‘There, that’s when I like you best. Sincerity above all.’

  I too turn around, an exaggerated smile painted on my face.

  ‘You like me?’

  ‘Let’s not get carried away. It’s a figure of speech. It means that I appreciate the sincerity, for once.’

  I hesitate, because the words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t know whether to let them out. ‘Why don’t you like me?’

  She frowns, as if I was talking total gibberish. ‘What sort of question is that? Why are we not attracted to people? It’s a question of chemistry, isn’t it? ‘

  ‘But I’m an irresistible superstud!’ I reply indignantly.

  She bursts out laughing.

  ‘What does that have to do with anything? What can good looks really do for you, in the end?’

  ‘Hey, I could make a fortune with this face! Everyone loves good look
s,’ I explain.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll admit that in some cases, having classical proportions can make life easier, but honestly, have they really helped in your case?’

  Well, duh. ‘Yes, Sara, being blessed with classical proportions has made my life easier, and more fun. Although, to be precise, my proportions are not classical: they are most definitely oversized.’

  She doesn’t seem to notice the innuendo, and she doesn’t reproach me, as I would have expected. Instead, she reflects for one, two, three minutes. ‘But despite your disproportionate proportions, you are the one asking me for help. This puts me in a position of absolute power, you realise?’

  The image of her with a whip and red leather boots flashes across my mind, causing a strangely agitated and uneasy sensation. I feel something stirring below my waist and squeeze my legs. Now is not the time, my friend!

  ‘It’s true. Do what you want with me,’ I blurt out, and I swear it is the last sentence I wanted to come out of my mouth. The roles have been reversed; I am the prey and she is the huntress. An assassin infinitely more cunning and cruel. And yet indispensable for me and my wallet.

  ‘This is the plan. I understand very little about semiotics…’

  ‘That’s for sure.’

  ‘Don’t interrupt me! Like I was saying, I understand little about semiotics, but apparently this bullshit format that I have proposed seems to have aroused some interest. Perhaps people are getting fed up with reality TV and cooking shows.’

  ‘About time!’ she says drily.

  ‘Stop being so virtuous. I bet you watch them too, in secret.

  I bet you binge watch them on a Saturday night when you don’t have a date. So, pretty much every week.’

  She gives me a dirty look and I immediately feel better: our relationship is returning to that old comforting antagonism I’m used to.

  ‘Anyway,’ I continue, finishing my last bite of brioche, ‘Here’s what we could do: I submit the format to you, you help me to review it and make the pilot episode, and this could count as my exam, or at least as part of my exam. Don’t you think that’s a fair proposal?’

  ‘It would be, if it wasn’t you proposing it. My instinct tells me to run a mile.’