Training in Love

by Manuela Pigna

  He regards me for a while, then whispers, “You’ve done it too.”

  “Yes, I’ve done it too,” I reply smiling.

  “It was right.”

  I nod, and for a bit we stay like that, without speaking, looking at each other, the interior of the car, outside, the dark, deserted parking lot.

  “Anyway, it’s not that serious, on the contrary, it’s almost something classic I’d say,” I break the silence.

  He laughs softly. “Believe me, the fact that it’s almost classic did not make it any less humiliating at the time… For a week I couldn’t bring myself to look my mother in the face. And at the time I went on thinking that I would never be able to again.”

  Another small laugh escapes me. “I believe you… It must have been really bad,” I remark, then attempting to console him I add, “But you’re not alone, I think that’s happened to a lot of people. Maybe there are more people it’s happened to than people it hasn’t happened to.”

  “Really? So it happened to you too?”

  I laugh harder. “Ah no, to me certainly not. We have already established that from a sexual point of view I’m a desperate case… I meant, speaking about normal people.”

  “You are normal, Olly, quit looking at yourself as someone so… so… Oh!” He suddenly exclaims serious and almost frustrated. My desire to laugh evaporates in a second.

  “You…” He begins, then stops. He puts a hand in his hair. “I know what you think, how you see yourself, but… but I think that we all have - some more and some less - moments of deep insecurity, of unease, a sense of being inadequate.”

  I lift my eyebrows and turn to better see him. “Even you?” I ask softly.

  He looks at me almost irritated. “Well excuse me, why wouldn’t I?”

  For a second I hesitate, but then I decide to answer truthfully, “Because you’re beautiful?”

  He looks away, now decidedly irritated. When he speaks, however, he looks at me again. “Do you see that you don’t get it?”

  These words hit me almost physically, and instinctively I move back a little because in my life I’ve been told everything, but not that I was less than intelligent.

  He observes me for a second. “See Olly, what just happened?”

  “What?” I ask in a small voice.

  “You’re used to thinking of someone’s physical appearance as the biggest problem one can have, but it’s not that way for everyone. As a consequence, you’re used to thinking that people with a pleasant appearance don’t have any problems, but who told you it’s like that? Haven’t you ever thought that other kinds of problems exist? Other kinds of awkwardness?”

  I remain silent, swallowing, because, in reality, no, I’ve never thought about it.

  “You take for granted that other people treat you like an intelligent person and that, if they make some nasty comment, it has to do with appearance. But maybe those who have a nice appearance get nasty comments on their intelligence, or other things, and I assure you, those aren’t at all pleasant either!”

  I’m speechless, and in keeping with the topic, feel slightly stupid in this moment for having such a narrow view of things.

  “And not only that…” Says Andrea with heat, taken by the subject, but then he stops suddenly. He looks away and passes a hand through his hair, finishing by scratching the nape of his neck. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he starts talking again. “All my life I’ve heard people call me beautiful. Sometimes… sometimes I ask myself if anyone has ever noticed that there’s a human… a human being here inside.” He swallows, but doesn’t look at me. “Girls… sometimes, some of them, I don’t think they’ve even noticed what my personality is like. They make me feel almost… I don’t know how to explain it… almost like a shell.”

  I don’t say anything more and remain immobile, in silence, overcome by astonishment.

  He doesn’t turn to look at me until, recovering from this little shock, I touch him. I delicately take his nearest forearm and he turns his face and stares at my hand. “Andrea,” I call him softly, but he doesn’t move his eyes from my pale fingers. “You are beautiful both inside and outside, you really have to believe me.” I swallow, hoping he’ll look up, but he doesn’t. “You’re honest, disciplined, constant and courageous… If there is a problem you face it, you don’t go around it. You’re determined. If you set your sights on something, you get busy and go to work. You set yourself to it and don’t wait for it to fall from heaven. You’re intelligent.” When I say this he finally looks at me in silence. When his eyes meet mine I instinctively let his forearm go and rest a hand on his cheek letting my little finger slide under his ear and my thumb on his cheekbone. I caress him slowly with my thumb. “You are not a shell.” I swallow. “You have no idea…” I take a deep breath, shaking my head lightly. “At practically every workout, when I arrive, when we begin… I wish I were like you.”

  He gazes at me, unmoving. I sigh and we stay like that for a few moments. Then, when I finally realize what the hell I’m doing, I shift to pull back but he moves to stop me. He grabs my wrist and I pull back even more, trying to pull away my hand from his face, but his grasp tightens and doesn’t let me go. My heart begins to beat fast and, fearing that he may feel my crazed heartbeat from my wrist, I want to take away my hand even more. I jerk back hard, but instead of letting me go, he lets his grip slide form my wrist to my hand. His thumb caresses my palm slowly, in a circular motion and I pull back even more, flattening my back against the door behind me. His eyes don’t leave mine – I think my heart is about to explode in my chest. I can’t help it, I’m not used to this tension, to these emotions, and when he makes a little movement with his torso towards me, out of my mouth come the words, “Tomorrow I have to get up early. I… I have to go.”

  He stops himself. He pulls slightly back without dropping his gaze, and finally lets my hand go. He doesn’t say anything, while I swallow, feeling terribly awkward.

  When he puts his hand on the handle of the door, he turns just for an instant and asks in a colorless voice, “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow I’m working all day, so wait for me tomorrow evening at nine at the twins’ house.”

  He nods. “Ok, goodnight,” he says getting out of the car, without looking at me again.

  “Night,” I reply, practically as he’s closing the door.

  I quickly turn on the engine and head towards my house, driving like an alcoholic who should have her license revoked. Before getting out, I grip the steering wheel and rest my forehead between my hands, breathing deeply. I am an idiot. Really. Rosy is right, I’m touched in the head. Something isn’t right in me, I should get myself cured.

  “I have to get up early…”

  I get out of the Cinquecento hating myself.

  14.

  It’s a quarter to seven on Thursday morning. Andrea should arrive any minute at the cafè.

  Yesterday I organized an evening of karaoke along with Nic, Linda and Marco.

  As I was leaving the house, I had a close encounter with my mother. She peeked out of the kitchen, blocking me just before I opened the door. “Hey, let me look at you!”

  With my face to the door I raised my eyes skyward, because ever since I’ve lost a few kilos, she often asks to see how I’m dressed, as though I were a model who has to go out on the runway. And this annoys me. It annoys me to death. Just the same, I turned around without saying anything and she ran her eyes over my figure.

  I had on a long, mid-calf length skirt and a light black blouse. Black ballerinas on my feet.

  “You look great,” she decreed with satisfaction and I usually respond to this type of comment like a bear defending her cubs from hunters, but Andrea’s words must have conditioned me involuntarily because I wasn’t able to answer back nastily.

  “Thank you.” In my voice there wasn’t a trace of warmth really, but she lifted her eyebrows and smiled anyway. Being used to a growl as an answer, a simple thank you, even if said in a cold way
, must have seemed like an accomplishment.

  “Have fun honey.”

  At this point I nodded, because two thank-yous in a single evening seemed excessive to me.

  I went out shaking my head, with my heartbeat mildly accelerated and a little irritated. Andrea manages to influence me too much, with too few words. It’s not ok.

  In return I had a great time at karaoke. After an unfortunate start – “I’m completely tone-deaf, I don’t want to sing!”, “Relax, the people who come to karaoke are normally very understanding, they won’t make you feel uncomfortable if you’re awful!” – I even saw my personal trainer laugh and truly have a good time.

  At the beginning, we didn’t sing that much because there were lots of people, even though it was a weekday evening, but from ten-thirty on we were able to cut loose.

  I picked all of Andrea’s songs. In the first part of the evening, I had him sing September by Earth, Wind and Fire, and at the moment of the refrain Nic and I weren’t able to hold back. We jumped up and went to sing backup for him, hopping and squealing in a really annoying and off-key falsetto, like two creatures possessed. Next was Can’t Get You Outta My Head by Kylie Minogue, over which he put up a lot of resistance at the beginning, but then accepted his destiny and I, despite myself moved by compassion, convinced Linda to sing backup with me. Seeing that the club regulars were distracted by our choreography, he relaxed a little. For last, there was A Natural Woman by Aretha Franklin. When I told him the title he looked me straight in the eyes and cocked his head to the side, but he abstained from commenting and headed in silence to the stage, as if he were going to the gallows. The fact is that, besides being an essentially feminine text, it’s also difficult to sing for someone as off-key as he is. In fact, it was a torment for everyone except us. I sang while sitting on the table, in a low voice, making encouraging gestures and pretending to have a microphone in my hand and to be Aretha giving her all. He looked at me occasionally. And if he started out furious, towards the end he burst out laughing and sang between laughs, while I laughed between one gesture and another too.

  Just the same, I saved the best ones for when the club was almost empty. Because deep down, really deep down, I have a heart too. The first piece was a duet with Nic, Je t’aime by Serge Gainsbourg, where Andrea was Serge and Nic a splendid Jane Birkin, making us die laughing. When they came back to the table, I had almost lost my voice from laughing too much and Andrea was red, smiling and holding his belly.

  The second and last piece, the ace up my sleeve, the “dulcis in fundo”, was my adored, great classic Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye. Before he went on the stage, I took him aside and, with a serious expression and grave voice, I commanded him, “Now listen Andrea, don’t let me down. This song is a serious thing. Give it your all.” Then I gave him a slap on the shoulder, tightening my lips, as though I were Apollo and he were Rocky.

  He made a face without even answering me and went with extreme calm to the stage (by then he had totally overcome his stage fright), going for the last hit. I have to say that no-one will ever match Marvin’s perfection, but he was good; he had loosened up a bit. He didn’t dance - that no - but having lived in England, he knows English well and he sang with a conscious understanding of every single word. And well, let’s say that for this one I didn’t laugh at all… On the contrary, I only swallowed and felt hot… really hot.

  I sang too - I didn’t let the opportunity slip by – twice with Linda, Mamma mia! by ABBA and Girls just want to have fun by Cyndi Lauper, two of our great karaoke classics. I also sang once with Nic, No Me Ames, where Nic was the brooding Marc Anthony and I a super second-rate Jennifer Lopez, but to make up for it we laughed a lot.

  The only one who didn’t sing was Marco. There was no way to get him out of his chair, but I think he had fun anyway since I caught him a couple of times wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

  It was a great evening, and remembering it I go to open the door smiling, when I finally see Andrea beyond the glass door of the entrance.

  I’m a little anxious though. I’m afraid that what I’ve prepared for today will maybe make him even angrier than the poetry evening did.

  The cafè is still empty. We usually open at seven, and Rosy arrives at seven-thirty.

  “Thursday,” he says cheerfully as soon as he sets foot in the cafè.

  “Right, you’ve almost done it.” And so saying, I lead the way towards the corner on the left-hand side of the cafè where he will remain all morning.

  “One kiss, one euro?” He exclaims with his eyes wide as soon as he reads the colored poster stuck to the wooden structure of a former marionette theater. I took a long time to physically prepare this booth. I recovered it thanks to a friend of Elenina’s mom, a nursery school teacher, who wanted to get rid of it because her nursery school had gotten a new one. I decorated the sides a little, I prepared the poster and a tin can with a photo of a beautiful African child. I positioned the can on the right side and I attached a card in which I guaranteed that the money collected would go to a charitable association which builds wells in Africa.

  I watch Andrea while he takes it all in. “I have to let myself be kissed by strangers all morning? No way! Forget it, Olly!”

  I take him by the arm sweetly and I accompany him to the other side of the puppet theater, where I’ve put an adjustable stool. “It’s for a good cause.” I push him gently down and check the height. “Lower the stool a little, you’re still too high.” I go back to the other side and observe him.

  “I won’t do it Olly! There’s no point in adjusting the stool!”

  “Don’t complain, today’s a day of luxury. From midday on you are free!” I retort, crossing my arms and regarding the entire effect with him in back.

  “Today’s a day of luxury? A-day-of-luxury?”

  I near him with a small sadistic smile and place my hands on the small overhanging shelf, I lower myself in such a way to bring my eyes to the same level as his. “Honor your defeats Andrea, honor your defeats…” I murmur, my voice low and poisonously sweet.

  He looks me in the eyes darkly, and then he drops his gaze slowly towards… towards my mouth. His pupils dilate, he takes a breath and then says, point blank, “Will you be the first?”

  I jerk back, surprised and confused. My heart immediately begins to beat like a drum. “Leo!” I cry in a loud voice towards the kitchen, just in order to do something… It wasn’t my intention to call him… What am I doing? “Come and see how he looks inside!” I suddenly add to cancel every possible suspicion of mental confusion.

  Leo arrives after a few seconds, cleaning his hands on his white apron, and he stands beside me to look at Andrea there behind the wooden structure.

  “You have the honor of inaugurating the day Leo,” I tell him with a forced smile. I still haven’t recovered.

  Andrea looks at me opening his mouth, shocked, but before he can say anything Leo answers, “What? Don’t kid around! Call me when you’re behind that thing, then you’ll see that a fine three-hundred euros I’ll put in voluntarily!”

  I wheel around towards him, but he doesn’t give me the time to answer before he’s already disappeared into the kitchen again. Even Andrea is surprised. “That’s harassment!” He burst out, worried, with his face turned towards the kitchen door.

  I laugh. “Oh please! It was a completely benign comment! And in all these years it’s the first time ever that I’ve heard him say something like that…”

  “Yeah, but he’s too old for you…”

  I come closer with a smile, this distraction has calmed me a little. “Don’t be silly. Love has no age limit.”

  He looks at me with his brows knitted. “We don’t call that love where I come from, it’s called something else…”

  “Oh, here’s Rosy!” I interrupt him. “Strangely, today she’s early…” A giggle comes out. “Don’t worry. You’ll start off with a bang with her.” Andrea practically grunts and I leave him to his destiny
for a good long while, because until eight-thirty (it’s my turn at the counter today) I’m too busy to keep an eye on the situation.

  I seem to have seen a sort of line of women around eight. I heard a more high-pitched laughter than usual, and even a good-looking boy who comes here frequently – thin, with blue eyes and always well dressed; He said to me in a low voice, leaning on the counter, “Well, is it valid for men too?”

  I leaned over to meet him half way. “Of course! There’s no sign which discriminates in favor of one sex over another, is there?” And I winked at him, going back to take care of my orders.

  Madame Barbieri did not want to make use of the service, but around a quarter to nine she announced that her friends would be arriving at nine and Andrea, stoically semi-impassive until that moment, slapped a hand on his forehead producing a wounded yelp.

  Madame Barbieri and I looked at each other conspiratorially, laughing.

  Now it is nine sharp and Miss Letizia, as punctual as a Swiss watch, enters the cafè accompanied by Miss Silvia. Andrea begins to call me desperately, while I pretend not to hear him. Finally I have pity and come over.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Oh really?”

  “Uh, yeah…” He answers glaring at me.

  I look at him for a moment. He has smudges of lipstick around his mouth, a couple on his cheeks too. Maybe someone didn’t have the courage to dare. His hair is mussed (have they put their hands in his hair?) and his face is a little red. He seems… crumpled, even if he’s wearing a simple white T-shirt which shows no signs of being wrinkled itself. Maybe the crumpling is inside… I feel sorry for him. I’ve really overdone it this time.

  “Go,” God, I’m so magnanimous.

  When I see him relax his shoulders I add, “But make it quick!”

  While Andrea is in the bathroom, I see Misses Letizia and Silvia perch with difficulty on the stools near Madame Barbieri. Letizia, previously prepared for today’s event, is pulling out a twenty-euro bill, but I see Silvia stop her hand and say something I can’t hear, while Madame Barbieri laughs silently.