“Perhaps.”
“Come on, take your drink and let’s go for a walk,” she looked to me with that terribly bright smile. We took in the atmosphere, the building, the lights, the music and walked out to the terrace to take in the city by night. It was quiet on the Grand Canal except one or two passing motorboats. When we looked down to the courtyard we saw masked guests still arriving.
“It’s wonderful here Cleo, thank you for inviting me.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Lucia.” She carefully took off her black cat mask with its gold ornate features. She turned to the wind and let the freshness of the air cool down her face. It’s a face that ought to be thrown on every single screen in the country, I thought. Every woman should be given a copy of this face. Mothers should tell their daughters about this face.
“You know I’m leaving on Monday, right?” I said.
“I do know that yes,” I looked down and tapped the railing with my foot.
“Well, I was wondering if I could see you again.”
“Don’t go falling in love with me, Harry,” she smiled.
“It’s nothing like that, I’d just like to see you again, that’s all. Is that wrong of me?”
“Of course not.”
“Maybe you could even come to Zurich one time?”
“We could go up into the mountains and ski. It’s really wonderful and not that far.”
“Let’s see, Harry,” she said, saying no more than that, but looking at me brightly. At that moment, Lucia came outside and offered some cigarettes. She was a very small girl and heavy and walked with a great deal of movement. She waved and smiled. I took my mask off and felt the fresh evening air hit my hot face. We stood for a moment and had a smoke.
“We should go inside soon, I think they will start the dinner service,” Lucia said.
We left the terrace and got to the table and I took off my coat and hung it over the back of the chair. Cleo was stood talking to Lorenzo.
There were twelve of us in total. I sat next to Cleo with Lorenzo to my right and Lucia to Cleo’s left.
The waiter came over and described the evening’s menu. I took the big jug from the table and filled Cleo’s cup with water and then passed it to Lorenzo. Cleo looked at me and I took her hand under the table.
We were sitting apart but jolted close together. I leaned over and tried to kiss her. She leaned back. “Not here Harry,” she gave me a smile and took a sip of her drink.
Watching her face, I knew she was wondering if I was offended. I sat back and said to myself, it was okay. I was just happy to be here with her and if she felt uncomfortable, showing intimacy then I can understand, given all she has been through.
“Everything’s fine Cleo,” I replied and she seemed relieved.
Masks were off now as the dinner service commenced. I looked at the clock. It was half-past eleven. During the course of the dinner, we all talked about one thing or another, but nothing in particular. Antonio did not talk or look over to me but I could tell that my presence infuriated him. His face was sweaty and taut and sallow. I looked at him carefully and saw his unshaved face with its blank pockmarks and flattened nose. If he were in a crowd nothing about him would stand out. My head started to work again and I could see he was becoming quite drunk.
As the dinner service wrapped up and we finished our digestives, the music suddenly became much louder and the sound of Prosecco bottles started to pop, and then the party suddenly exploded. There was no other way to describe it. Everyone was either stood up or dancing but even when dancing, everyone was drinking.
“Salute for alcohol! Hurray for carnival!” Alfredo had stood up from the table and shouted. He had a bold head with a thick dark beard and black-framed glasses.
“Hurray for the English!” Antonio shouted in a sarcastic manner, looking over at Cleo, and then at me then slamming his glass down and spilling his drink all across the table. She turned to him and smiled. He was not smiling now.
“Oh lighten up, Antonio,” Lucia said, before turning to me. “Just ignore him, he’s had a crush on Cleo since they met and hates to see her with other men.”
“He does not have a crush on me,” Cleo said and put her hand on my leg under the table and squeezed my thigh tightly.
“Oh darling, don’t be so naive,” Lucia said.
“Anyway, I’ve had enough of Italian men,” Cleo said, before turning back to the group. “Now, let’s make a toast before we all break up for the night. Where’s Sofia?” Cleo asked.
“I’ll go get her, I think she’s by the bar talking,” Lucia said.
We asked for another bottle of Prosecco and toasted to good health, carnival and anything else we could think of. Everyone was making an effort to speak English and it was something I really appreciated. They really tried hard to include me in the conversation, everyone except Antonio of course, who responded to everything in Italian.
After we finished we all stood up next to the table. I could feel Antonio wanted to start up again, but Lorenzo held him off. His hard-eyes watched me. It was not pleasant.
As the night progressed the dancing kept up, the drinking kept up and the music went on. It seemed as though nothing could have any consequence that night and people all around were losing themselves in the dance and the drink. I only had to look at around to know that this was a party that could set one free. The whole nightlong you had a sense that, even when it seemed less quiet that you had to shout everything to make sure you were heard.
I went to the restroom and took off my mask. What a box to sweat in. The sweat in the light of my complicated face had fell from the crowd and changed and chased, sputtered and cracked, between the people. It was a changed face tonight, I thought. Perhaps this is why we can see faces in clouds, trees, or even from two dots on a line of paper. I wiped down and walked out. Cleo had disappeared, but I saw Lorenzo on the dance floor talking to some girls.
“Harry!” Alfredo shouted over from the side of the dance floor, pushing through the crowds. He put his hand on my arm and seemed a little drunk.
“Come here, my friend, I want you to meet some people. Come with me.”
“I’m waiting for Cleo.”
“Oh come on, she’s fine, Lorenzo can go look for her,” he was pulled me along.
“But have you seen Cleo?” I asked.
“She was with Lucia by the bar some minutes ago. Look, come outside and then we will go find her together. Come on, Harry,” he was insistent.
“Okay,” I said, seeing no point in resisting.
We walked onto the terrace. Half of the crowd was now outside smoking and drinking. I could feel the history of the country in the air and as we walked out above the singing and dancing, I could hear the sound of the city lost in its own festivities.
We walked up to a group of girls Alfredo knew. One of the girls had a bottle in her hand and offered us a shot of something or another, which I refused at first but she insisted, so I took a drink. It tasted of liquorice and warmed me all the way through.
Alfredo introduced them all around, and they started to talk in Italian, but there was not enough room where we stood, so we all moved over to the sidewall. A waiter came by and Alfredo ordered a bottle of Prosecco and glasses for everybody. There was a lot of talking outside. It was loud.
“Tell them you’re a writer,” Alfredo said loudly. “Go on, tell them.”
“I’m ashamed of being a writer,” I replied and could feel everyone listening.
“Go on. Tell them!” Alfredo said, looking up smiling.
“This gentleman,” he said. “Is a writer.”
“You’re a writer,” one of the girls replied.
“No, no. You must be confusing me with someone else,” I replied.
Another one of the girls stepped forward, introducing herself as Viola. “Really a writer, what have you written?” she asked and smiled and showed all her bad teeth.
“Nothing of worth.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I’
ve never seen a foreigner at this party before,” eyeing me curiously. “It’s really only a local affair and tickets are only sold to local families. How did you swing it?”
“Actually, I met a girl called Cleo Tremonte and she introduced me to Alfredo and his friends and they just invited me to come along. Do you know Cleo Tremonte?” I asked.
“Sorry, I don’t.”
“Well, anyhow, I really didn’t know what to expect and didn’t know it was such an event.”
“Lucky for you.”
There was shouting now down from the street and I looked out and over past the courtyard to see a group of teenagers setting off fireworks in the square next to a large fountain.
“Well, I really should go find my friend,” I said.
“Of course, it was nice to meet you.”
“What’s your name?”
“It’s Harry. Harry Hoffman.”
I turned and looked at my watch. It was eleven minutes past one and I hadn’t seen Cleo for over an hour. I noticed a dot of dried blood on my watchstrap. I licked my figure and rubbed it off.
I looked around and saw someone I thought to be Lucia sat down talking to people I didn’t know, so I made my way through and walked over.
“Having fun?” I asked.
“Oh hello, Harry,” Lucia said, turning to see me. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, just looking for Cleo. Have you seen her?”
“I was with her some minutes ago, I think she’s down in the courtyard talking with one of our friends.”
“Which friend?” I asked.
“Ricardo, he’s a friend.”
Lucia started fingering her glass and seemed distracted. One of her friends filled her glass and mine. Just then Lorenzo walked by. He started to smile at me, and then he saw Lucia with a big glass of Prosecco in her hand. He was with a woman with bare shoulders.
“You chaps have some Prosecco for me and my new friend?” he asked proudly in English.
“Sure.” Lucia took the bottle from the table and stood up and filled both their glasses.
“I will go outside for a smoke. This table is full of drunks,” Lucia said to the three of us.
“Okay, I’m going to find Cleo,” I said, turning to leave. Lucia grabbed my arm.
“Just wait a second.”
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Look, Harry, they seemed to be getting quite, how do you say, cozy.”
“Who?”
“Cleo and Ricardo.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that, if you do go see her… Please don’t go starting any trouble.”
“Was she kissing him?”
She paused. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
I breathed through my teeth and I saw Lucia looking sympathetically at me.
Lorenzo was now on tiptoes proposing a toast. “Let’s all drink to” he began and then looked at me. “Cleo,” I said subdued.
Lucia looked at me very seriously, and we all touched glasses and drank it down, I rushed it a little.
“Well, thanks I appreciate your honesty I guess,” I said to Lucia.
“Harry, stay here and let’s get another drink,” Lorenzo said.
“I need to find Cleo,” Lucia looked at Lorenzo like Lorenzo already knew, so I gave them both a grin and left.
“Harry,” I heard them shout as I walked off.
I walked around the ballroom checking people’s faces and then turned out to the terrace. I felt anger running throughout my body. I couldn’t see them anywhere. Antonio and Alfredo were outside.
“Have you seen Cleo?” I asked walking over. Antonio was holding onto the terrace railings, swaying slightly. Lorenzo and the girl came out behind me and joined us. I started to ask Lorenzo what he knew and Antonio kept interrupting me.
“Why do you keep interrupt me?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” he said with a slight grin on his drunken face.
“It would seem our friend here is not feeling so well,” Lorenzo said.
“I see, are you okay, Antonio?” I asked, hoping he felt horrible.
“What do you care, English,” he spat down at the floor.
“Calm down, and for God’s sake don’t be so noisy,” Alfredo, said clearly annoyed.
“Yeah, cut it out, Antonio,” Lorenzo said.
“Where’s Cleo, you ask? Well she’s with another asshole. He’s actually even a bigger asshole than you, Harry Horrffman. What is that, Jewish? Please don’t get all superior and Jewish on us Harry,” he continued. “Do you even think you belong here among us? People who are out to have a good time?”
“That’s enough, Antonio.” Lorenzo shouted, before turning to me. “Don’t listen to him, he’s drunk.”
“But he’s not wrong about Cleo and this guy right?”
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Lorenzo replied.
“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” said Alfredo. “I really thought she liked you and it’s not so nice to invite you and then go off with someone else.”
“Anyway, what do you mean don’t listen to me?” Antonio slurred, only just realizing what was being said. “Anyway am I wrong about that bitch?”
“Cut it out Antonio. Don’t talk about her like that,” I could feel my blood starting to rise. “Especially if she’s not here to defend herself.”
“Why, what are you going to do about it English?” he said, starting to laugh.
“Don’t be a fool, Antonio. I don’t want to fight you.”
“Why don’t you see when you’re not wanted? Go away. Go away, for God’s sake,” Antonio shout over.
Lorenzo put his arm around Antonio and shook him slightly. “Come on my drunken friend. Let’s get out of here and go for a walk. Time to cool off.”
“Speak in Italian. I’m sick of this pig language,” Antonio said slurring his words.
“Come on Harry.” Lorenzo shouted.
We walked down the stairs and into the courtyard; it was becoming clear to me that Cleo had left without any word to me or anyone else. We left the party and walked to one of the cafés just off the square with the fountain. It was now past two in the morning, but the party was still very much going in the city streets. We had just sat down and ordered a bottle of Prosecco and water for Antonio, when he stood up.
“Where is Cleo?” he demanded, looking at me.
“I don’t know.”
“She was with you.”
“I don’t know, Antonio,” I repeated. “She’s probably with Ricardo.”
“Oh yeah, Ricardo,” he was bitter now and his face sallow under the light. He was still standing.
“Tell me where the hell she is,” he demanded once more.
“Sit down,” I said. “I don’t know where she is.”
“The hell you don’t.”
“Antonio calm down,” Lorenzo demanded. “You will get us thrown out of this place if you don’t calm down.”
“Tell me where she is you English bastard.”
“Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. You’re a mess.”
“Oh go to hell. All of you.”
At this, Lorenzo started shouting at Antonio in Italian. Lorenzo stood up and tried to get Antonio to sit back down.
“She’s on her honeymoon with Ricardo,” Alfredo said as a joke to lighten the mood and then realized what he had said and looked at me.
“Sorry, Harry.”
“You shut up Alfredo and don’t apologies to that pig.” By now we were making quite the scene. People had stopped dancing and were looking over.
“Is that where she is?” Antonio asked.
“Of course she’s not on her honeymoon, stupid,” said Alfredo. “But she’s probably with Ricardo.”
Antonio now pushed the table over and all the glasses and the bottle of Prosecco hit the floor making a great crashing sound. He stood proudly and firmly waiting for an assault and ready to do battle.
“Calm down for Christ sake,” Lorenzo cried out.
; “Oh go to hell,” Antonio screamed back. “I’ll make you tell me you English pig!”
Antonio then launched himself at me and swung his fist to my face. I quickly stood up and saw it coming and ducked. I saw his face move sideways in the light and then he hit me with such a great wallop to the right side of my face that I fell down.
I sat down on the pavement, and as I started to get to my feet he hit me twice more and I went down backwards, crashing into the table. I tried to get up but felt like I did not have the legs.
I sat there and spat to the ground. I couldn’t believe this damn drunkard had put me to the floor. I had to get to my feet and hit him back. Lorenzo came over and helped me up and Alfredo was now holding Antonio back. I stood up, took one look at him and then collapsed on the floor.
I could still hear Antonio shouting in Italian, but it all faded into the background and got softer and softer until it was gone.
When I regained consciousness, it felt like blood was pouring down my face. I looked up and it was Lorenzo pouring water over my head. He saw my eyes open and then he slapped my face hard.
“Harry! Are you okay?”
“What? I was?” I said, feeling dazed. I sent a probe out to gather information on my body and senses. I was terribly dizzy and had a strong headache. I turned slowly to my left and saw Viola holding my hand.
“What are you doing here?” I barely slurred out the words.
“She saw the whole thing happening from the terrace as did everyone else and got here when you were out cold,” Lorenzo said.
“Where is that son-of-a-bitch…” I said, slurring out the words again.
“Your friend Alfredo took him home,” Viola said.
I stood up with their help and sat down on a chair.
“I really have to apologize for Antonio, he shouldn’t have hit you like he did,” said Lorenzo, shaking his head.
“He moved like a boxer?”
“He is. Three times a week,” Lorenzo replied.
“Lorenzo, you could have mentioned that when you warned me earlier,” I muttered, nursing my aching body.
“Relax and drink some water,” Viola said. I turned to her.
“How does it look? Do I still have a face?”
“It’s pretty banged up,” she said, frowning.
“Look we better get out of here, I’m pretty sure the owner called the polizia,” Lorenzo insisted.
In Another Country, and Besides Page 5