by Fabio Volo
“I don’t hate you, but if I keep living here with you, one day I will.”
“What do you expect me to do now?”
“Nothing—you only need to acknowledge my decision.”
“I don’t know who you are anymore—you scare me. How can you talk to me in such a cold and rational way after we’ve been together for so many years?”
“I don’t have any alternatives. I don’t have a choice. Maybe you don’t realize how much it pains me to talk to you like this.” He had the expression of a scared baby. He wasn’t aggressive. I would have liked to hug him, but I needed to be strong. “It doesn’t make me happy having to tell you this.”
We sat there on the couch, staring off into the distance, looking for something to hang on to.
Without looking at me, he asked: “Do you remember when we bought that painting? I never liked it, you know.”
“I never liked it either.”
“So why has it hung there all these years if neither of us liked it?”
I didn’t answer. He hid his face in his hands and started to cry. He was crying loudly, sobbing, sniffling. I hadn’t seen him cry in years.
“Sorry, Elena, sorry … It’s not true that it’s your fault. It’s my fault, I wasn’t able to love you. I haven’t been able to love anyone, it’s not your fault.” I felt horrible, but I didn’t speak. Then he calmed down, wiped his tears, and blew his nose. “Sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
He kept looking at the ceiling, around the room, staring into the corners, anywhere but in my direction.
“Look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“Look at me.”
“If I look at you I’ll start crying again like a idiot.”
“Fine, don’t look at me … Just tell me that you understand this is the right thing to do.”
“No, I don’t understand.”
“Paolo …”
“I understand, but it hurts just the same. I can’t imagine my life without you. I can’t believe that tomorrow morning I’ll wake up and you won’t be there in bed, that when I come home, you won’t be here, that we won’t eat dinner together, and that you’re not in the bedroom when I’m on the couch watching TV. I like to know that when I turn it off and come to bed, you’re there.” He turned toward me and added: “I can’t imagine living a single day without you. What am I supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
We were silent, then he went to get a glass of water and brought one for me, too.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me; I poisoned it,” he said, and smiled. His face was all red. “I’m going to sleep at my brother’s—I can’t stay here.” As he was putting on his shoes without undoing the laces, he added: “Everything you said was right, except for one thing: When you started growing distant, it’s not true I didn’t notice it, I just didn’t know what to do, how to avoid it, and got stuck there, watching, hoping that things would fix themselves on their own. I don’t know what made you change, but at a certain point, you weren’t you anymore, I didn’t recognize you and I wasn’t capable of handling the situation. You can’t imagine how sorry I am, and I know I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Yes, there is, Elena. There’s a whole life.”
October 20th
At my age it’s not easy to live alone. It’s an experience I’ve never tried. The first few days, when I came back home and found everything dark and quiet, it gave me a sense of emptiness and anxiety. Dinners by myself, in bed by myself, waking up by myself. At night I couldn’t sleep, I would go to bed late and wake up early; whenever I heard a little noise I would get up to see what it was. I always thought that it might be burglars.
All my old routines had disappeared. I had to learn new measurements, new spaces, new times. At night I preferred going home early. I started leaving a light on in one of the rooms. I would leave one on even as I slept.
I kept wondering if I had done the right thing. Actually, I already knew the answer—I didn’t want to live side by side with a man I didn’t love anymore—and yet certain evenings it even seemed difficult to walk around my own empty house. After all, there are many people who stay together in order to keep each other company, out of habit, or just to share the expenses. If they broke up, they wouldn’t know where to go.
At first I would have dinner parties to avoid being alone. Even Carla came to spend the weekend a couple of times. Then something happened: I got over it and without noticing, I started a new phase in my life. I started feeling good and I couldn’t wait to go back home, close the door, and be left alone to do what I wanted. I would look at the pictures on the floor leaning against the walls and I would be happy: I had always wanted them that way, but Paolo didn’t like it. I would decide to do something, then I would change my mind at the last minute, and I didn’t have to explain myself or feel guilty.
For a whole week I ate the same thing for dinner: white rice with tuna, a drizzle of olive oil, and soy sauce. I’m crazy about it, it’s delicious, but I couldn’t make it for a guest: It’s a mixture that looks like dog food. I eat what I want, as many times I want, and when I want. Two weeks ago, I couldn’t stop eating avocados, spread on toasted bread, in a salad, with shrimp, or as guacamole. I didn’t want anything else. I liked the fact I didn’t hear any snoring, coughing, or the toilet flushing during the night. I like not hearing someone else’s alarm in the morning. I like stretching out my legs and arms and turning over without the fear of waking someone up.
A few days ago I couldn’t sleep and came into the kitchen to get a glass of warm milk. Then I turned on the TV and realized I didn’t have to keep the volume low or turn off the lights. This is the first time I’ve had an apartment all to myself. It’s smaller than the one I had with Paolo, but I’m feeling a sense of freedom I never had before. I’ve discovered the beauty of silence in the privacy of a home. I’m enjoying my solitude. At night, after dinner, I make some herbal tea and lie on the couch to watch a movie, or I slide into the pages of a book, or I have long phone conversations with Carla as I put lotion on my legs. I buy flowers to put in the kitchen, I open a bottle of wine, even if I only feel like drinking one glass. Sometimes I play music loudly and dance around the house alone. I’ve learned how to smile at myself in the mirror. I’ve discovered that it’s beautiful to try and seduce oneself. I find that simply looking at my colorful new cups and bowls on the kitchen shelves makes me happy. When I’m at work, I can’t wait to get home and take a long, hot bath. Nobody knocks at the door wanting to get in, I don’t have to cook for anyone, and I don’t have to keep any certain hours—I have no obligations. Sometimes I skip dinner, or I decide to try out a new recipe and as soon as I leave work I go to buy the ingredients I need, then I go home to play in the kitchen like a little girl.
Living alone has taught me to ask myself what I want and what I desire. It seems commonplace, but it had never been like that for me. I’ve learned to find in myself the measurements and the reasons to live my own life. I’ve realized I have to want what I’m going to be in the future; I cannot live in order to please someone else, forcing myself to be something I’m not. In the mirror of this house I’ve seen the new person I have become, a woman I had forgotten and put aside without realizing it. I’ve remembered a lot of things about when I was a little girl, when I dreamt of changing the world. I’ve rediscovered the desire to know, learn, and understand. Every discovery is a wonderful gift to myself. I am deeply moved whenever I find new meanings.
I see a different future for the woman I am now.
One night, after I had moved out, I went to have dinner at Federica’s. After eating I helped her pack a bag because she was going to spend the weekend at an agriturismo with her latest boyfriend. We were laughing about some strange and extravagant combinations of tops, miniskirts, and lingerie, when I saw something that ma
de my blood curdle. From one of the closet drawers she took out a beauty case, the same one I had seen in his bathroom. I think I turned white as a sheet.
She looked at me. “Are you okay? What’s up?”
“Tell me it’s not true, please.”
“What?”
“I can’t believe it … Tell me you haven’t been in that apartment.”
“What apartment are you talking about? You’re scaring me.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Elena, that’s enough! Either you explain yourself or stop it—you look very upset and I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“How long have you had that beauty case?”
“What’s up with you and this beauty case?”
“How long? Tell me!”
“I’ve had it for a few months, but what does it matter?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“The truth about what, exactly?”
“Either you tell me everything or the two of us are done. How long have you had the case?”
“My mother gave it to me two months ago. Now stop it and tell me why you’re so upset.”
“Swear you’ve only had it for two months.”
“If you want I can call my mother and she can tell you.”
I sat on the bed. “Fine, I believe you. Sorry.”
At that point it felt as if I had aged at least ten years.
“Now will you tell me what’s up? You should see the expression on your face. You scared me.”
My behavior had been so crazy that I couldn’t avoid telling her why. I told her everything, from the note he left me in my coat to the moment I drove through the gate of that house in Tuscany. I didn’t even give Carla that many details. That evening, instead, I told her everything and when I was done I felt as if a boulder had been lifted off of my stomach. I hadn’t even know it was there. I only realized it when I got rid of it. As I told that story and relived that situation I understood, maybe for the first time, what that man had meant to me, the importance of our encounter in my life. I felt free and suddenly my eyes became watery. Federica hugged me. “Elena, you’re wonderful.”
We finished packing her bag, and taking a second look at the beauty case, I realized it was different from the one I had seen at his place.
So the tranquility I reached caused me to have a different attitude toward life.
During this time period, at a meeting, the boss complimented me on my work. Binetti gave me his usual smile. Before leaving the room I stopped him. “Sorry, I’d like a word with you.” I closed the door and it was just the two of us in the room. “Look, Binetti, we’ve been working together for years. I’d like to know something: That smile I’ve seen on your face for the last few months, what does it mean? Would you be so kind as to tell me?”
“What smile? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop pretending. If it means something, tell me: I’m all ears. But if there’s nothing to say, or you don’t have the balls to say it, let’s forget about it, but let’s be clear on one thing: I never want to see that smile again. Neither now, nor tomorrow—never. Today’s was the last. Do I make myself clear?”
“There’s something wrong with you. You have issues.”
“No, you’re the one with the issues, and I’m asking you to tell me if they involve me.”
“What’s all this fuss really about?”
“It’s about you dropping all your insinuations.”
“I’m not insinuating anything.”
“I’m not surprised you’re pretending not to understand, but I don’t care, because I know we understand each other.”
“Look, I’ve had it with you: shut your trap and go find somebody to fuck.”
“No, maybe you didn’t understand. I’m the one who’s had it with you and you’re the one who needs to shut his trap. And I’m not joking—I can become a serious problem for you, Binetti. You have no idea how serious of a problem I can be. I don’t want to see that fucking smile on your face anymore when people talk about me. And that’s not all, if anyone tells me that you’ve been talking behind my back I’ll make you regret it, even if that person is lying. No more get-out-of-jail-free cards for you, Binetti. You’ve worn out my patience.”
“What is this, a threat?”
“It’s not a threat—it’s a promise. I know it’s easier for you to accept the fact that the boss puts me in charge because I’m sleeping with him and not because I’m better than you. Only a stupid man like you would think that I would sleep with somebody in order to get ahead. The day I decide to spread my legs to advance my career, believe me, it will be so I can stay home and not to start working at seven in the morning. This stops now. This time the conversation is private, something between you and me. Next time you smile at me like that, or make one of your fucking remarks, I’ll tear you apart in front of everyone. Good-bye and keep up the good work.”
“Listen …”
“Shut up, Binetti. Today just isn’t your day.”
I left the room feeling like a tigress. I could have taken on the whole world. I went to the restroom and cried with happiness. Suddenly, as I was looking at my reflection in the mirror, everything became very clear. At first I saw that woman as something separate from me, as if she were a different person. Then I turned into that woman. I looked myself in the eye and said: “Here I am—I’m back.”
April 22nd
Federica can’t make it to the meeting in Rome tomorrow so I’m going. She asked me to cover for her because she has an important evening planned with Marco, the first man in years she hasn’t nicknamed. It’s a big deal. After Mr. Horse, Mr. Pinky, Mr. Know-it-all, Mr. Tighty-whiteys, Mr. Express Train … she has finally found Marco.
I couldn’t say no. Plus Rome’s a city I love; I’m always happy to visit it. I like walking around the small streets downtown after dinner before going back to the hotel.
The meeting went well. My train to Milan was going to leave at four in the afternoon, but the meeting was dragging on with useless chatter.
“Did you fly or take a train?”
“I took a train.”
“If you need to travel from Milan to Rome it’s not worth getting on the plane anymore. You have to be at the airport an hour early, then an hour flight, and then another hour to get downtown in a cab. Plus you can work on the train since it has a Wi-Fi connection.”
I’ve heard that a thousand times, the only difference being that this time it was actually causing me to miss my train.
When I finally got out of the meeting I told the cabby to step on it, but when I got to the station I saw my train pulling out. As I waited to get on the next one, I killed some time between the café, the shops, and the bookstore. Suddenly I realized it was time to get to my train. It was leaving in a few minutes. I found an older gentleman sitting in my seat.
“Good evening, I think you’re in my seat. Are you sure you have the right one?”
“Listen, I’m traveling with my wife and we couldn’t get seats next to each other—would you mind if we switched?”
“Of course. No problem.”
I sat down toward the end of the car and after a few minutes the train took off.
My romantic view of life leads me to think that whenever stuff like that happens to me it’s the work of destiny, for reasons that aren’t clear yet. “I’ll meet the love of my life,” I told myself jokingly. I was so tired that I decided to eat something on the train, so that when I got home I could shower and jump into bed.
As we were getting close to Milan I walked to the first car and stood next to the door so I could be the first to get off. Next to me there was a man who had had the same idea. The train stopped a few meters from the station. We exchanged a look and I smiled at him. “It makes you want to get off and walk the rest of the way.”
“I think that’s why they keep the doors locked until the very end.” Th
e train started again. “They heard us,” he told me.
When we got off we said good-bye. He was walking faster than I was. I got in line for a taxi and saw three cars and three people ahead of me. One of them was the same man who had been standing next to me on the train.
“If you want you can go first,” he told me when I got in line behind him.
I was tempted to accept his offer and get in the cab.
“Thanks, but that’s okay, I’ll wait.”
“Are you sure? It’s not a problem.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He got in the cab and left, and I immediately regretted that I hadn’t accepted his offer. After a few meters the cab stopped and he got out. “Let’s share it, how about that? You can’t always say no.”
We headed toward my place. On the way we talked a bit, and I was struck by the fact that he spoke as if he enjoyed it. His irony showed me that he was intelligent. When I got out of the cab, he wouldn’t let me pay and helped me get my bags out of the trunk. I looked at him and was about to admit that I didn’t remember his name, but he interpreted my pause as embarrassment. “I know, you’d like to invite me to come up, to have a drink at your place … I’m sorry, Elena, but tonight I’m way too tired.”
I remained still, staring at him. I didn’t know if he was being serious or if he was joking, but then I started to laugh and he joined me. Before getting back into the cab he waited for me to enter my building. I turned around, thanked him again, and he said good-bye with a smile.
That night I fell asleep feeling a little sorry about the fact that I didn’t know anything about that man. Sometimes it’s possible to miss someone you only met for a few minutes. The next morning I finally remembered that his name was Nicola.
One Saturday afternoon, as I was parking my car, I heard someone tapping on the window. I got scared. It was Simone.
“Hi, did you recognize the car?”
“No, I recognized the parking technique.”