Upstairs, Downstairs

by Olivia Hart

  “How was your trip?”

  “Usual work, usual problems. I’m very tired…” Then the pause comes. Mizuki is famous for his pauses. Anita waits, her heart racing in expectation. She can’t wait to see him again. “Are you busy tonight? Would you like to join me for dinner at home?”

  “Sure, yes! What time?”

  “Whenever you want… as soon as possible, I guess. I’m already here.”

  So his flight wasn’t late. It seems almost cruel that he didn’t call her as soon as he landed.

  “I’ll be there!”

  “I’ll send a taxi for you…” He’s so thoughtful.

  “No thanks, I don’t need it. I have Isotta.” Anita doesn’t like taking taxis. She never knows what to say to the driver. Mizuki, on the other hand, who always travels for business, couldn’t survive without taxis. Always in a different city, meetings, business lunches, dinners… “Oh my God – Evelyn!” Anita suddenly remembers. “I wonder if he saw her in Brussels.” Evelyn is the mysterious woman that he almost married. Mizuki has never told Anita much about their relationship. When she tried to ask questions, he retreated into his suit of armour like a samurai. But she sensed he’d suffered a lot.

  “Ok. As you say…” Anita waits impatiently for the rest of the sentence. In the meantime, she fills the emptiness of one of Mizuki’s Pauses by imagining what she would like to hear: “I missed you so much, I thought of you all the time…”

  “… But you know I don’t like you to drive the scooter at night.”

  “And do you know that you’re irresistible when you worry about me?” She replies in an ironic tone. “I’ll be there in a flash!… Oops, on the other hand – I will be very careful, driving slower than a snail. See you later, kiss!” And she hangs up.

  She gets ready quickly, grabbing clothes from the closet. A long black skirt, a soft, mauve sweater with a deep V neck and a jacket she found at the flea market in Porta Portese. The result is not too bad, she just adds the final touch: an emerald green scarf, which makes an interesting contrast with her hair colour. “Goodnight, Mum. Don’t wait up for me.”

  *

  Sitting in the middle of a Roman traffic jam, she almost regrets that she refused Mizuki’s offer of a taxi. She could have been relaxing in the back seat of a car instead of yelling at drivers who cut her up with their horns blaring. But she’s so happy that no bully can bring her down tonight. She checks the time, speeds up and parks on the pavement in front of a store. She buys a pack of Beta Green Mochi, because Mizuki adores them. The sophisticated Asian delicatessan looks like a Shinto temple and these greenish sweets cost a fortune! But she doesn’t care.

  She arrives in Via Gramsci and already feels at home. She takes off her helmet and walks towards the huge, dark green door.

  “Watashi!” She exclaims into the intercom, her excitement growing.

  “Come in, please.” It sounds almost like a recording, but Anita knows it’s him.

  As soon as she enters the large atrium, she looks up at the curved, wide Carrara marble staircase, shaped like a shell. “Beautiful!” She always thinks. “Would it be too chilly to eat on the terrace?” It’s her last thought before Mizuki opens the door. He’s already wrapped in his yukata. A classic. His broad shoulders emphasise its elegance. He has many, but this one must be new. She hasn’t seen it before. The contrast of cobalt blue with emerald green is amazing.

  Mizuki’s gaze moves over her from head to toe, then pauses on her eyes. He bows gently to invite her to come in. “Your yukata is ready…”

  “And this is for you.” She gives him the sweets, kissing him and then moving to the bedroom.

  It’s been a long time since she was last in his apartment. She loves the big spaces, the tall ceilings and the minimalist setting with just a few ornaments and pieces of perfect furniture… a sophisticated, serene feeling. The light scent of incense surrounds her.

  On the bed she finds a yukata of pure silk. Anita undresses and puts it on. The sheer fabric caresses her body and a shiver runs from her spine up to the nape of her neck.

  She smiles and feels lighter.

  Mizuki looks at her for a moment, then laughs. Anita has put on the yukata inside out. She looks at the sleeves… “No-o-o!” and she bursts into laughter.

  “Please follow me for an aperitif.” He has become so fluent in Italian that sometimes she’s surprised by his articulated expressions. The yukata mistake is already forgotten. Anita enters the kitchen where there’s a tall island. On the counter there are several small plates of elegantly arranged food to taste. Soft classical music is playing. She takes the chopsticks. First, tuna maki, then avocado and salmon maki. Mizuki has prepared soy sauce with wasabi. Anita has learned how to appreciate that singular hot taste. Japanese Slipper is the cocktail that accompanies the appetisers. The purpose of the small plates is to make you feel intrigued; to focus on the individual ingredients and the way they are combined. Anita isn’t used to such sophistication, but she’s learning quickly.

  The cocktail has a precise goal: it leads Anita to the next stage, in which all senses are amplified. Walking barefoot, with a sheer silk yukata on her naked body is intoxicating anyway, even if worn inside out.

  “What was in that cocktail?” She thinks, whilst leaving terra firma…

  Mizuki watches as all the food and her cocktail disappear.

  “That’s all?” She asks, nibbling a little slice of ginger.

  He accepts her enticement. He wraps his arm around her waist and with the other hand he lightly touches her hair and neck. A shiver runs down her spine. Then he opens the fusuma. Two panels, in perfect Zen style, open silently and smoothly onto the dining room. Dinner awaits them.

  The candlelight illuminates the perfect symmetry of the setting. Plates and glasses are placed in meticulous order. But Anita likes it. She just must be careful not to drop them!

  In a second Mizuki is in the lotus position. It takes Anita a little longer.

  The music has changed almost imperceptibly, as if to underline a different mood. “How does he do that? Does he have a hidden remote control?”

  A bottle of chilled Gewurztraminer is opened, white, fruity, and crisp. Anita enjoys it even before tasting it. Mizuki knows it well, and pleases her every time.

  “How was your week?” He asks, moving the first entrée towards her.

  “Everything was fine, except for today. Have you ever had anything to do with Russian tourists?”

  “No. Do you recommend them?”

  “No, not ever!” Her chopsticks move rapidly. “Do you remember the first time we had dinner together? Next to us there was a Russian couple. They talked all evening with unbearably loud voices. Impossible not to notice them.”

  “Sure, I remember! They had more alcohol than food… And I remember that you were using the chopsticks for the first time. You threw one at them… I never understood if it was because of your beginner’s clumsiness or because you wanted to embarrass me.”

  She laughs. “And did I?”

  “I admit it, you did. Then you turned quickly to catch your chopstick and spilt the soy sauce on the table…”

  “Congratulations! Great memory… But the Russians didn’t notice anything and kept drinking, eating and talking with their deep, loud voices.”

  “Yes, until the moment you saw that inviting little cup of green sauce. You stuck your finger in and tasted it – Wasabi – a bomb exploded in your mouth. Kagututi possessed you!”

  “I won’t ever forget that awful moment!” Anita keeps laughing. “My tongue, mouth and lips were on fire… but who’s Kagututi? I don’t remember…”

  “He’s the incarnation of fire in Japanese mythology. And the Russians were immediately destroyed by his power.”

  Anita is still laughing. She’s always surprised by how much Mizuki can amuse her. Usually so reserved, he becomes irresistible when he lets himself go.

  Now it’s her turn to refresh his memory. “And you’d just broken up with
your girlfriend – I still don’t understand who broke up with who – but you seemed calm and… unflappable.”

  “I was unflappable thanks to you, but do you remember when I stopped being unflappable?”

  “Hmm, let’s see… Ah yes, when we parted that same evening. I was a little drunk and courageous. I kissed you on the lips, and you kissed me back eagerly.”

  “So, you remember our first ki…” Anita interrupts him with an updated version of that kiss.

  Their lips lightly touch, then search for each other’s. She inhales Mizuki’s smell, an exotic scent she likes. Now she’s feeling a different kind of hunger.

  “I missed you.”

  “Follow me.” He whispers in her ear.

  *

  Anita is lying on the bed; her eyes closed. The yukata has slipped down to her hips. Mizuki’s hands move skilfully over her body. His touch fluctuates from firm and determined to soft and light like a feather.

  He’s focused as if following a precise design. She’s completely lost, abandoned to her senses. She still hears some music, but it seems to come from another world. He brushes her neck, moving to her shoulders, pausing on the most sensitive spots. He keeps touching her until all tension has disappeared.

  He intertwines her hands in his and lifts up her arms… from there he slowly moves his touch down. He brushes her breasts, lightly kisses her nipples, touches her hips above the yukata. He listens to her soft moans.

  Mizuki knows that he’s playing with fire when he presses his thumbs into the two adorable dimples on her back, and follows the curves of her body under the yukata. The last obstacle slides to the floor with a swish. He knows that in a moment he will be the prey.

  A wave of amber curls appears above him. Now their eyes are avid with pleasure.

  Anita is in control. She offers him her round, firm breasts, she arches her back, then straightens to receive him inside her. Their bodies move as one, wrapped in each other, panting. Their rhythm becomes frantic, until the tempo slows down to a peaceful stillness.

  *

  “These candies are delicious…” Mizuki opens his eyes. He fell asleep without realising it. Anita’s sitting on the bed with the box of Beta Green open on her lap.

  “Don’t go.”

  “You know I have to. I can’t stay without giving her warning…” She kisses him. “Next time I’ll stay. Promise.”

  *

  It’s late at night. Anita relives the details of the evening as she speeds along on her scooter. She and Isotta arrive home. She locks the scooter, the helmet in her hand, and in two minutes she’ll be in bed.

  “I’ll tell Mum about him soon.” She thinks. “But not tonight.”

  She thought it was very late but she hears music coming from the interior courtyard. A low, deep rhythm.

  3

  All Because of the Garden

  “Thirty-five euros from the station to Garbatella!” He thinks, getting out of the taxi with his bulky baggage. He can’t wait to settle into the new apartment, take a hot shower, and touch the strings of his double bass again. This is the only way he can digest the robbery he just suffered at the hands of that taxi driver! But first he must find Mrs Proietti and get the keys to the apartment. Then he can finally unpack the heavy carry-on luggage that he’s been dragging around for too long.

  He’s already anticipating the joy of entering his new home and the pleasure of lying down on a sofa, when he notices a piece paper stuck on the entry gate. DON’T TOUCH – BROKEN.

  “Excuse me!” He yells towards a group of people assembled around a pile of dirt. A guy turns, looking at him with surprise. Then the other four turn too, scrutinising him.

  “My name is Daniel, Daniel Bracci, and I’m looking for Diego’s apartment, Diego, the photographer.” Somehow his words started something, because all five begin to advance towards him together, compact like a Greek military phalanx…

  “You have to go round.”

  “What?”

  “You have to go round the block and in on the opposite side.” The oldest of the five is indicating the path with his hands. The others are a young couple with a push chair, a middle-aged man with a beard, and an athletically built young man.

  Daniel starts to climb the hill. He wouldn’t mind those three hundred metres with just the double bass on his back – that instrument is almost part of his body now – but with the carry-on and the big bag on his shoulder it’s too much.

  When he finally arrives at the yard, he drops his bags and unties the straps of the instrument, embracing the voluminous case as if it were a beautiful girlfriend.

  The older man addresses him again. “Ah yes, Diego told us something… He left his apartment to you while he’s travelling. Right?”

  “Yes, and I’m looking for Mrs Proietti for the keys.”

  “She just left, but in the meantime make yourself comfortable,” he says, pointing out to a stone bench.

  “Do you think she’ll be back soon? I’m very tired and need to rest…”

  “She went to the store. It shouldn’t take too long.” The young woman with the push chair interjects. “Ah, here she is!”

  Giovanna is out of breath. Her curly hair is unravelling from a soft bun.

  “Giovanna, Diego’s tenant has arrived.”

  In a second Giovanna gets the picture of Daniel: handsome, tall, messy light brown hair, wearing jeans and Clarks shoes.

  “Nice to meet you. Giovanna Proietti.” And smiling, she gives him her hand.

  “It’s my pleasure. Daniel Bracci.”

  “Have you already met the others?” Giovanna doesn’t wait for an answer and starts the introduction. “Paolo, the architect, and Rodolfo live on the top floor. Carlo, Pina and little Francesca live in the apartment in front of Diego’s – that’s yours now – on the same landing.” Then, pointing towards the older man: “Matteo Spina is our renaissance man… he’s the one who’s idea it was to restore the war garden.”

  “War garden?” Daniel is confused.

  Giovanna, with a wide gesture of her arm, indicates a piece of land divided into squares: some of them hoed, others covered with green shoots.

  “Yes, during World War II this area was a vegetable garden. There were food shortages at that time, so the garden provided some vegetables at least for the apartments.” Matteo Spina explains with some pride. “But, after the war, the garden was abandoned and taken over by weeds.

  “We’re very happy with it. We save some money and we know what we’re eating…” Carlo puts his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “It’s great, especially for the baby: no chemical fertilisers or polluted water…”

  “Great!” Daniel thinks. “A conversation about a wartime vegetable garden is not a promising start!”

  “But please, come up.” Giovanna cuts him short. “I’m sure you want to settle in. What a lot of luggage… what is this?”

  “It’s a double bass! Can’t you see, Mrs Proietti?” Paolo says, like an eager student who knows all the answers.

  “If you say so,… but how much does it weigh? Diego’s apartment is on the third floor, and we don’t have an elevator.”

  “Ok. Let’s get going.” Daniel thinks, giving Giovanna a forced smile. “Don’t worry, I’m used to carrying it everywhere, and it’s not very heavy.”

  Giovanna and Daniel head towards the entrance, followed by the others’ gaze.

  “Let’s just hope he doesn’t play at night!” Matteo Spina comments.

  “As long as he plays something nice…” Rodolfo adds.

  “For me, he can play whatever he wants with that body! Did you see him?” the architect exclaims.

  “I can’t stand you when you act like this!” Rodolfo replies. “Anyway, he’s too tall and too blonde for my taste.”

  Pina tries to lighten the mood. “I wonder if he’s a musician by profession… I must say, even with jeans and a shirt he’s very classy and elegant. Carlo, honey, if you dressed like that, you would look like you just s
tepped out of a cheap flea market stall…”

  Carlo turns to look at Pina. Sometimes he would like to strangle his beautiful young wife! But he’s too much in love with her and little Francesca, sleeping peacefully in her push chair.

  *

  As soon as they get into the apartment, Daniel drops his luggage and leans the beloved double bass against a wall. Then he collapses on the sofa, while Giovanna sits in the armchair in front of him. She watches the handsome young man who’s just arrived by coincidence. A thought starts to take shape in her mind. The more she thinks about it, the more she feels it could work…

  Daniel is looking around the small living room. There’s a sofa covered with some ethnic fabric, two armchairs, a low, light coloured wooden table and a simple bookshelf full of books. On a wall is a huge photograph of a desert with a Bedouin praying to Mecca in the distance. “Not too bad,” he thinks with a sense of relief. “It could be much worse.”

  Giovanna interrupts his thoughts. “I’ll show you around. This is the living room, there’s the bedroom; the kitchen is over there, equipped with everything. There’s even a dishwasher! The bathroom is behind that door, near the bedroom. It’s a small apartment, but comfortable. But you should see the architect’s attic! A dream. It looks like those places you see in interiors magazines… I think he spent a fortune renovating it.” Then she realises that Daniel looks disinterested so she stops talking.

  Returning to the living room, she exclaims, “Ah, here you are! Where’ve you been?” and bends to pick up a beautiful big cat with long hair. “This is Commodilla.”

  “Commodilla? Funny name…”

  “Yes… Diego called her that because he found her nearby, in the garden of Commodilla’s catacombs… I can take care of her if you don’t have time.”

  “No, thank you, I can manage, I like cats… but now I really need to take a shower.”

  “Perfect! We’ll wait for you downstairs, so you can take some lettuce from our vegetable garden. I also have some homemade lasagna, if you’d like some. You won’t find anything to eat in here, that’s for sure. Ah, I almost forgot! The car keys are on the kitchen table. It’s an old blue Ford and it’s parked in the yard.” She disappears and closes the door before Daniel can ask, “What car?”