An Astrological Guide for Broken Hearts
Page 19
Unfortunately, I have Neptune in Sagittarius, which prevents me from intervening promptly in certain situations, but when the other Gemini engaged in a relentless struggle with . . .
Tio stares at me, speechless. “With . . . Nardi,” he says. Then he shakes his head in my direction and whispers, “The Leo. The Leo tried to protect you.”
I bite my lip and lower my eyes. “Go on . . .”
He doesn’t have time, however, because my parents burst into my room, brimming with excitement. “You’re on television!”
One of the video journalists tells the camera that they were just leaving after an interview with a soccer player, but he and the camera operator were drawn back by the screams coming from the loft of the production offices. Behind him, you can glimpse my feet.
“Oh my god.” I look at Tio angrily, since he’s the one holding me in his arms. “I have hair in my face. And you didn’t even close my mouth!”
“I’m sorry!” he says and bursts into tears. “I was so scared!”
Then, quick as a fox, Paola appears on the TV, with her first aid kit in hand.
Soon after, we glimpse Giorgio standing out from an indistinct group of people. He must have climbed onto a desk and then thrown himself into the fray, screaming.
I can only mutter “Oh my god” like a mantra.
“Go away,” I say. “Everyone out of here.”
We need a solution here.
All I can think about is the fool I just made of myself on TVs worldwide . . . and of Davide, who threw himself on Giorgio to defend me.
Nonsense; I should focus on more important things, like my work, if I still have one.
How could this have happened?
Paola is right when she says that I have to learn to love myself. On the other hand, Tio is also right when he says that generosity is inherent in my natal chart.
On second thought, it’s all very clear, obvious, even. When I looked at Giorgio’s astrological chart a couple days ago, I found correlations that made my hair stand on end: specifically, his sixth house in Leo speaks of his love of luxury goods. And Davide? With Jupiter in his ninth house, it’s obvious that he would live a life of constant travel, while Venus in his twelfth house clearly implies that he is allergic to close bonds. As for Alejandro, there’s not much to say. The eighth house in Cancer, combined with the Moon in the third and Mercury and Venus in the first clearly underlined the fact that he has a desperate need to be liked, hence his proclivity to move from one woman to the next.
Do you need any other proof, Your Honor?
Henceforth, zodiac or death.
31
* * *
Leoless
I wrinkle my nose, disoriented by the smell of fried food. I try to curl up under the covers, clinging to the dream that I was having, but this time when I look at Davide, at the seashore, I see him with a Tyrolean hat complete with a feather.
Since I’m dreaming, the situation doesn’t disturb me in the least, and if he were to start singing “Edelweiss,” I would be more than happy to join him in a Julie Andrews–style chorus. But he takes my hand, brings it to his lips, and looking into my eyes, he says . . .
“Cuckoo, Muffin,” and kisses me.
His lips are hot and fiery, and taste like . . . sausage and mustard?
“Good morning!” Giorgio is straddling me in his underwear, trying to kill me with a fork pointed at my face.
I grimace. “Sausages at . . . ” I check my telephone, charging on my nightstand. “At six twenty-five on Sunday morning?”
“English breakfast,” he says.
“Italian fuck you,” I respond, taking refuge like a cat under the sheets.
Unfortunately, I only get to doze for another half an hour, since the continuous banging and clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen is hardly conducive to sleep.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask Giorgio as he stands in the kitchen in his underwear and a Kiss the Cook apron with his arm shoved up the backside of a gigantic bird.
“Stuffed turkey for Thanksgiving,” he answers, as if it were the most natural thing in the world—except that we’re in Italy, and it’s the end of May.
“Isn’t Thanksgiving in November?”
“But I want to thank you now. I’m making stuffed turkey.”
“Giorgio, I have plans for lunch today . . .”
“What? You’re going out? And what about me?”
Should I try to explain to him that I still want to have a social life?
“I’ve already made the stuffing, peeled the potatoes, and dressed the salad. . . . And who are you going out with?”
“I’m having brunch with Tio and Andrea; it’s been planned for days.”
“So you’re abandoning me here to go frolic with your fan club,” he says resentfully.
“What fan club? It’s brunch with friends, Giorgio.”
“Male friends; that means that they will spend the whole time thinking about sex.”
That may well be true, but knowing Tio and Andrea, their sexy thoughts will definitely not involve me; but far be it from me to share this with Giorgio.
And before continuing this conversation I need an intravenous dose of coffee and my computer to check the ephemeris and planetary conjunctions today. I know that Tio does not agree, but I want to take astrology seriously from now on. So I’ve started to check my stars every day by myself.
I have several Positive Transits that are hard to believe, and it’s almost a shame that it’s not a workday. With Saturn Positive with my birth planet Uranus, it would be worthwhile to take advantage of the situation. The most interesting aspect is the Transit of Jupiter with Pluto that predicts imminent creative changes in my life and could help me to earn the favor of someone influential.
“So, Muffin, you just couldn’t care less? What am I supposed to do?”
“Well, for starters, you might consider looking for a job.”
At the word job, I see him pale. “I’ll do that next week. I had the perfect afternoon planned; just the two of us here at home with board games: Connect Four, a few hands of gin rummy . . .”
Wow. As I slip into the shower, I can’t imagine how I could possibly pass on such a wonderful offer.
While I finish getting dressed, I hear him pacing back and forth in the hall on phone call after phone call. When I go to say goodbye to him at the door, he does something even stranger.
He turns and stares at me seriously. “Has someone called you lately asking about me?”
• • •
“You’ve gotten it into your head that you can do it on your own but it doesn’t work that way, dear.” Tio wags his finger theatrically.
“Aren’t you the one always saying that I have to believe in myself and my own abilities more?” I mumble with my mouth still full of chocolate cheesecake.
“For heaven’s sake, that is Paola!” he immediately shoots back. “I am absolutely convinced of your inability to be proactive.”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling. “God! You have to admit that I’ve gotten better. And more careful. I don’t trust anyone anymore without first checking their astrological chart.”
This time it’s Andrea who intervenes after clearing his throat. “Um, my dear, Tio is worried about your association with that individual, one Giorgio, who persists in staying overnight on your sofa. He believes he is manipulating you.”
“Giorgio is not manipulating me. At least, not anymore. He has no one else to help him, Andrea.”
“On the other hand, facing the harsh realities of homelessness may inspire him to make a more concerted effort to look for a job, Alice.”
I stare at the remaining four thousand five hundred calories of cheesecake still on my plate. “He swore that next week he would roll up his sleeves and look for work.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that you’re taking a Gemini seriously!” mutters Tio sarcastically.
“You’re a Gemini, too!” I retort.
“Our a
strological charts are very different. He has Mars in Cancer! And it shows; he is narcissistic, dictatorial, and inconclusive.”
“Things that are totally alien to you, of course.”
“Since you’re such an expert now, you should realize that it’s your Moon in Pisces that reveals your Achilles’ heel with that creature; otherwise you would have already thrown him out.”
Now that he’s hitting below the belt and I am offended, I naturally want to give him a taste of his own medicine. “And you’re sure that’s not your Venus in Leo talking? It seems that if someone is not bowing and scraping at your feet over and over again, you hold it against them as if you had suffered high treason.”
I think I’ve hurt him because he gasps, unable to say anything for ten seconds. “Look who’s talking about need for recognition and affection!” he exclaims when he’s recovered. “You’re the one with Saturn in Libra!”
“At least I don’t have Pluto in the first house,” I shoot back.
“But you have Scorpio in the eleventh!”
“And you have a Negative aspect between the Moon and Midheaven, Mr. Fickle!”
“Saturn in Libra!” yells Tio angrily.
“Doesn’t it occur to either one of you, even for a second, that you’re insane?” interrupts Andrea.
“But she told me that I have Pluto . . . implying that I always want to be the center of attention.”
“And him?” I grumble, swallowing a third of the cake without even tasting it. “It’s not my fault that I have Saturn in Libra! Andrea, Saturn in Libra delays marriage and perhaps means that you’ll marry an old man. What do you think was crueler: me telling him that he is self-centered or him telling me I’m destined to be an old maid?”
“But it’s not Tiziano’s fault if you have Saturn in Libra . . .” There was a moment of silence. “Oh geez, what are you making me say, Alice?! Do you realize the nonsense that you have been spouting?”
“It’s not nonsense!” Tio and I answer in chorus.
“There, not even my boyfriend supports me,” exclaims Tio.
“Oh no, honey. Don’t say that,” I say. “I’m here!”
And him: “Gotcha! Moon in Pisces!”
“That’s not fair!” He always gets me, but I’m actually not angry; I’m laughing.
Tio gives me a pat on the back and laughs along with me. “Now then, speaking of serious things, you know that it’s time to get busy, right?”
“Do you mean Jupiter’s Transit with Pluto?”
Andrea raises his eyes to the ceiling. For him we are probably “rather strange creatures,” but he loves us anyway.
“Exactly. Don’t you feel electrified?”
Electrified is definitely the right word at the right time, because I jump up in my chair as I feel my cell phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans. “Excuse me,” I say pulling it out. “Gotta take a call.”
Tio snorts and then must become aware of the expression on my face. “Don’t tell me: the Leo? Hang up.”
“No, but . . . what if it’s important?”
“Important like getting chicken pox? Hang up!”
“Hello?” I get up to stop Tio, who is flailing his arms at me the entire time, from taking the phone out of my hand.
On the other end: “Alice?”
Why does his voice always have the power to melt my knees? “Davide.”
“Where are you?”
I look around, as if for a moment I had completely forgotten. “I’m . . . I’m at California Bakery. Why?”
“Great. I’m coming.”
I know that Tio is angry. His face is grim, and he won’t look me in the eye.
I bite my lip before I tell him: “He’s coming.”
“He’s already here,” says my friend.
Andrea turns around, making a noise with his chair.
I am about to turn around as well when his voice stops me, blocking everything inside of me: my brain, yes, but also my heart, liver, and kidneys. “Can I sit down?”
Davide looks at the menu and then asks the waiter for a coffee. He does everything with such calm that it makes Tio even more irritable. “I was in the neighborhood,” he says by way of explanation. “Does anyone know how the tarte tatin is here?”
Even for Tio, although he’s accustomed to theatrical improvisation, this unexpected appearance out of context is disconcerting. And again, I have to feign an ounce of superiority in attempting to explain Davide’s behavior: “Look who’s good at obfuscation. He has Mercury in the tenth house.”
Tio looks at Davide, who still seems intent on consulting the menu. “Yes, and an Opposition between his Moon and the Ascendant. Not to mention Venus in the twelfth house,” he says grimly, for my benefit alone.
I know what he’s telling me. That aspect, in Davide’s astrological chart, signifies that he has difficulty in relationships and seeks out solitude more than anything else. What’s more, there’s Venus in his twelfth house, which translates to “instability in love”; in other words, 2–0, game over.
“Can you cut it out?” Davide frowns.
“But of course,” Tio says. “We will stop immediately. Let’s talk about serious things. By the way, how is Barbara?”
With every ounce of audacity he possesses, Davide takes my fork and digs it into Tio’s plate, into the chocolate cake that he still hasn’t finished. “Excellent,” Davide says, chewing under my friend’s murderous gaze.
“What brings you here, Mr. Nardi?” Andrea asks. “We can well imagine that it must be an issue that requires immediate assistance.”
“Yes,” Davide mutters. I raise my eyebrow while he glares at Tio. “I had to see Alice to speak about our trip.”
“Trip?” all three of us say together.
“The trip to Paris.”
“But weren’t you supposed to go with Marlin?”
“She was called for an audition, so you will have to come with me,” answers Davide peremptorily.
“But why not take me?” says Tio. “I am the host of the show.”
Davide stares at him with an ice-cold expression for a seemingly interminable moment, and I see Tio’s Adam’s apple go up and down in discomfort. “Because I want Alice.”
32
* * *
The Day the Pisces Came Out
My train for Paris leaves tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. sharp, so I really should be spending tonight focusing on work and on packing, but in less than an hour, I am supposed to go out and meet Daniele, Karin’s friend, at an exhibition. I could have explained that it would be better to rearrange, but after blowing him off a million times, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Actually, I forced myself to accept his invitation for tonight in hopes of distracting myself from the thought of the days ahead where Davide and I will be alone in the world capital of romance.
If my internal hell wasn’t enough, I’m also dealing with an external pain in the ass. Giorgio is currently on a suicide mission to stop me from doing whatever I need to do in the little time I have left to do it.
A whole other problem is the incessant voices in my head. Clearly it’s the first sign of my decent into madness, but I have the excuse of being a double sign and of having significant planets in diametrically opposed constellations. At the idea of being cheek to cheek with Davide for three days, my Neptune in Sagittarius has already put on Swarovski crystal, while Mercury in Scorpio is telling me that I’m a total idiot.
“Why don’t you wear the yellow sweater for the interview?” Giorgio hops around me, playing three-card monte with my clothes scattered on the bed.
“I want the blue dress. Stop bouncing around me like a pinball. I am running late as it is.”
“You could have skipped going out tonight. You would have had more time and more rest. Not to mention, you don’t even know this guy. He could be dangerous!”
More dangerous than spending the evening at home with him? I don’t think so. If he keeps on like this, I’m in danger of being handed a life sentence for in
voluntary manslaughter.
Although, I must admit, I’m not jumping for joy at the prospect of going out. I would much rather take a bath, listen to some music, have a glass of wine, and indulge in dreams about Davide and me, without thinking about the pathetic figure that I will cut if I continue down this slippery slope.
I try to put Neptune and Mercury in their kennel as I slip into the bathroom to put on my makeup, but one of the two (probably the forked tongue of Mercury) hisses that rather than indulge in silly excitement, I should be angry with Davide for torpedoing into my life. Don’t I want to smash him in the face?
Wouldn’t I rather that he take me in his arms and kiss me again?
Shut up, Neptune, shut up. For goodness’ sake. It’s best to go leave the apartment, and fast!
Once in the taxi, I focus my thoughts on this guy, Daniele. He has really been very understanding, considering my propensity to hang up on him and constantly reschedule our first date. Not to mention that I’m curious, since he is a Pisces with Virgo rising, and he has a very interesting birth chart. He deserves at least one evening. Although this is really not the evening for either one of us, because when I called him to reschedule our dinner tomorrow, he invited me out tonight, saying he had a previous commitment but wanted me to join him.
After a few minutes, the taxi stops at a sidewalk crowded with people and umbrellas. Damn, I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize that it had started to rain. Why can I never meet a man in a state of grace? There always has to be something, an atmospheric agent or an Astral Conjunction that intervenes, even when I don’t have great expectations for the evening. Of course, I don’t expect to find the perfect man this way, on a blind date, while I’m an emotional mess and my ex is growing roots on my couch, but I would be grateful if at least the hair gods would be on my side tonight.
“You must be Alice.”
The first thing I see when I open the cab door is a reassuring umbrella covering my head. Only then do I notice the face of the man who is holding it and staring at me with a big smile and a pair of honest, green eyes.