Training in Love

by Manuela Pigna

  I take a step backwards and look at him. “And now… the final touch!”

  I take my makeup case out of the cabinet and pull out a black eyeliner pencil.

  “What is it?” He asks with horror.

  I take off the cap and get closer. He pulls back and I lean closer, until I’m practically straddling him. “Just… a little line… under the eyes…”

  He tries to grab my hands and I snatch them away, putting them over my head, behind my back, to the sides. Trying to avoid his constant protestations. “Quit it!” I say a little breathless, mostly because of the close contact. Suddenly he grabs my wrists firmly and I look at him, pretending to be annoyed by his insubordination, but we are very close…his eyes are close to mine, his mouth… I make an effort to keep my breathing under control. “It’s my Week of Power! You can take it off in… less than five hours,” I say, glancing rapidly at the clock over the bathroom mirror.

  He makes a face, staring me in the eye. “Are you trying to get me picked up by every gay man in the area?”

  His breath is minty. “Are you homophobic?” I ask, freeing my right wrist from his grasp and nearing his left eye with the pencil.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean I want to be hit on by a man…”

  I free the left one with a jerk and hear him sigh. He’s giving in. “Stay still!” I suggest without looking at him. He really is too close.

  I go to work, concentrating on the tiny piece of his eye that I have before me, that is, the inner edge of his lower eyelid, excluding all the rest – the skin on his face that I’m touching, the color of his iris, his mint scented breath, the hardness of his thighs under my backside… I shut out everything, because if I surrender to the trembling I feel in my innards, I risk blinding him in an eye.

  When, with an immense effort at concentration, I finish my task, I lean slightly back and take a look at my work. I’m the first one to be left with my mouth open. “My God… you look great with makeup! It’s something incredible!” The black pencil echoes the black of the pupil and creates a fantastic chromatic contrast with the light blue of the iris.

  Andrea turns towards the mirror on his left and murmurs, “My God…” But in a different tone from mine…

  “It’s almost over, it’s almost over…” He chants in a low voice.

  I observe him as he looks at his reflection with an unsettled air. I feel like laughing, but almost immediately I’m distracted by the scene we form together. My smile disappears from my face as I try to memorize everything. My head is slightly above his because I’m sitting on him, my hair is darker, his left arm is resting on the bathroom cabinet but it looks almost as if he’s holding me close to him, his face is so close to mine that… it would be so beautiful if I could… All of a sudden I wake up from this daydream. He is watching me in the mirror. I don’t know how long I’ve remained immobile, with the pencil still open in my hand and an expression of heart-wrenching, unrequited desire written on my face!

  I jump up huffing and quickly tear my eyes away from his. “Come on, at least admit that you had fun yesterday…” I say, looking to change the subject.

  Yesterday, the next-to-last day of my Week of Power, I organized a party for Elenina and some of her friends; they were a total of six little girls, and I made him provide the entertainment. At the beginning he protested, but as with all the other programs for this week, he then entered into the spirit of it and the children were even able to make him laugh. He was their slave, but for most of the time took turns being Prince Charming for all of them. All of a sudden, Elenina exclaimed, “Andrea, when I grow up I’ll marry you!” and set off such an uproar that it took me the better part of a quarter of an hour to calm them down, because the other girls were not pleased with Elenina’s plans. Andrea even manages to make eleven-year-olds argue and have fits of jealousy.…

  “I didn’t think I’d be able to say something like this, but I believe that, in the end, the best day was the one with the movie…” He meditates, furrowing his brow, while I hear him get up from the stool.

  “You’ll like today too. Other than having you go out dressed up like this, I haven’t planned anything, so you’ll have fun at the party, you’ll see,” I encourage him without looking at him. I put away the pencil and the makeup kit and glance at the clock. “Come on, let’s go.”

  As we descend the stairs (thank God it’s so early that my mother hasn’t come back from work yet), Andrea asks, “Whose car are we going with?”

  “Each with his own. At midnight you’re free,” I tell him smiling. He nods without commenting.

  We are very early to help out and set up, but the people start to arrive around nine, including Marco, Linda and Nic, who seeing Andrea bursts out laughing so hard his stomach hurts. The person who has had the most fun this week is probably Nic.

  ***

  The evening passes in the blink of an eye amid laughter, drinking, conversation and a few dances. That is, a few for the others, not for me who never dances. I made Andrea do YMCA, but it was the one and final rotten trick of the Week of Power and, if I can say so, I think he even had fun with it. I saw him laughing a lot with Nic, and drinking, and… Yes, he really seemed to be calm, relaxed and carefree. At least, even if he attracted a lot of looks because of that abominable shirt, we ended this absurd week in a way that wasn’t too cruel.

  Leo, as always during this particular evening, was slouching around like a pasha, drinking at a table outside. The other girls and myself took care of everything, but I always do it with pleasure. At a certain point he made a gesture for me to come and sit near him. He offered me what was on the table, I pretended to accept and he, a little drunkenly, thanked me. “Olly,” he said, “maybe I’ve never told you how happy I am to have you.”

  “Oh Leo…”

  “No, let me finish. It’s true, most of the time I’m a bear closed up in his kitchen, but I wanted to tell you this evening… when some lucky library takes you on, I’ll kill myself. Or I’ll close the cafè.”

  “Oh Leo, please!” reddened slightly and put a hand over my eyes.

  “You always get here before you have to and everything you do… you do with love – regarding the people, regarding what you’re doing – and you can see it.”

  Tears almost came to my eyes and he must have noticed because he leaned over, he caressed my head, pulled me over with an arm on my neck and kissed me on the forehead. “Thank you, little one.”

  Sniffing I answered him, smiling, “Only you can call me little one!” Then I freed myself from his embrace and ran to the bathroom to blow my nose and tidy myself up. Andrea joined me before I entered the ladies’ room. “Further harassment?” He asked, joking, but when I turned around he immediately became serious. “Hey, what’s happening? Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not crying, I’m just a little emotional,” I answered, quickly hiding my eyes. “Leo gave me a beautiful thankyou speech.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief…” He said with an odd tone.

  When I came out of the bathroom, we had the YMCA moment which right away brought back my smile.

  It is now a quarter to twelve. I’m leaning against the wall near the entry-way, inside the cafè. I was about to join the others at the table inside where they settled to talk, drink and rest for a little bit I think, when I paused to observe them. Because the image of them, so beautiful and smiling, stopped me for a moment. Nic, seated between Marco and Andrea, is saying something and the other three are listening to him with smiles on their lips. Linda occasionally shakes her head. The interior of the cafè is dark, but I turned the light on, only over their table, so that they could see each other just a little better. Now Marco has intervened, speaking, and the others are listening.

  Andrea, seated on the outside left, leans around Nic to say something to Marco. Nic intercepts my gaze above his blond head and – perhaps mirroring my expression – smiles a slow smile.

  “Excuse me?”

  I turn around. A very tall
, blond girl with long hair and a black dress is speaking to me. She’s stunning and I’m certain that she’s just arrived, otherwise I would have noticed her before. “Yes.”

  “I’m looking for a tall boy, really tall,” she gestures with her hands as she speaks. In one of the two she holds a black clutch bag, very elegant, in perfect harmony with her dress. “Blond… With blue eyes…”

  “Andrea Colucci?” I ask, still smiling, because I’m always really slow understanding things.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She answers with a white smile surrounded by full, pale rose colored lips. “Have you seen him? Is he here? He told me to come here at midnight, but I don’t see him…”

  I attempt to control myself, but the smile disappears from my face – just like that – immediately. I instinctively turn towards the table in question. Nic is still watching me while the others talk amongst themselves. Nic’s face, still mirroring mine, is now serious, concentrated. I stare at him, a little stunned. “He’s there,” I tell the girl, blinking quickly and pointing to the table. “With the pink shirt.”

  She follows my finger and my gaze and exclaims, “Oh my God! That’s why I didn’t see him! I couldn’t imagine that the one in that shirt was him!”

  Nic looks at me, serious and silent. He looks at the girl and then, without dropping his gaze, gives Andrea a light slap in the head. Andrea turns towards him massaging his head on the injured spot and Nic doesn’t answer. I see him tighten his jaw.

  “I hope he changes… I really don’t want him to go out with me dressed like that…”

  I sense that Andrea is about to turn around and the last thing I’d like is for him to read the expression I have on my face right now. I’m afraid it’s too obvious. I turn to the girl. “He has a change of clothes. He’s dressed like that as a joke.”

  “Good thing…” She murmurs. She thanks me briefly since she is already walking towards the table.

  Since I have to do something, I walk quickly behind the counter and get some rags and the spray cleaner I always use for the tables and then go outside. In a short time I’ve cleared four tables of glasses, bottles and plates and I realize that when I’m attacked by negative energy fields I’m better at cleaning up. I have an energy and efficiency that not even Mister Clean can beat. I’ll have to remember that.

  “A shell…”

  I’m cleaning the fourth table, the one on the left which has me with my back to the entrance.

  Shell my ass. Damn him and damn all the beautiful people and damn me and this week and…

  “It’s five to twelve, do you want me to do something in the next five minutes?”

  I close my eyes for a moment, trying to relax, to seem indifferent, to put together a smile from the black depths of my soul, and then I turn around. But the smile isn’t there. You can tell that it’s just too far down. “No, you’re free.”

  I go back to cleaning, but I can tell he hasn’t left. I’m aware that it’s my fault, all my fault that I fell for him despite my mantra, my being aware, etc. etc.

  I fell because of all the things that all the people around us said and also because of him, with that “painful beauty” and that kiss…

  I shake my head. No, it’s my fault.

  I shake it again, slowly. In the end, knowing whose fault it is doesn’t change anything. After all, the only thing that counts is to free my head of these thoughts and immediately go beyond it, to a mental and emotional place where I’m not bleeding.

  “Are you angry?” He asks.

  I respond without turning, “Me? No, why should I be?”

  “You don’t have the same face as before…”

  “I’m just a little tired.” I wipe the table, wipe, wipe even where it’s already clean.

  “Olly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you want to turn around?”

  I sigh and turn around rapidly. “What is it?”

  He shrugs his shoulders and a small smile appears on his lips. “It’s just… It’s been a crazy week… you had me do everything…”

  I nod, trying to smile back, but I’m afraid what comes out is a grimace. He doesn’t seem to notice.

  “You pushed me to the limit… all the time,” he says with an almost dreamy tone.

  “Well,” I answer lowering my head and turning back towards the table, “One should always try to overcome one’s own limitations.”

  “Do you manage to do it?”

  “I often try to.”

  I hear him take a breath to say something else, but the high voice of the girl interrupts us. “Andre, are you ready?”

  Instinctively I look up at her. She’s absurdly beautiful and I detest myself for having been so stupid as to delude myself that I had any chance with him because of a stupid remark and a kiss that, quite frankly, he was giving to everyone that day.

  “Yes… I’m coming.”

  I turn back to clean the table again.

  “So… is that it?”

  I twist once again briefly. “Yes Andrea, you’re free. Have a good evening.” I stretch my lips in an imitation of a smile and return to my table, waiting to hear their steps as they leave. When I hear them, I turn and allow myself a sincere look of profound sadness at their backs. The horrendous fuchsia shirt is stretched across Andrea’s back, while hers is almost all visible because that dress is more low cut in back than in front. They walk close to each other, without holding hands, but then she threads a hand under his arm.

  “You know, you have a fantastic profile.” I spin around towards the voice of Nic, standing in the entrance. “And I have an idiot friend.”

  “Ah no…” I smile wearily. “It’s not his fault…”

  “Ah, no?”

  “No. Is it his fault if I stop seeing him as a simple personal trainer and begin to delude myself?” I speak right away with sincerity. By now it seems futile to pretend when it’s perfectly plain that he’s already aware of everything.

  “I seem to remember a kiss… A kiss he gave you, even if it should have been the other way around.” He pauses briefly, then adds, “And I saw it clearly, you know, how he did it…”

  I lift my shoulders. “Well, in retrospect, even in that case he actually only asked me as an incentive…”

  Nic moves from the door. He has an interested look and takes two steps towards me with his hands in his pockets. “What, what, what? He asked you? And what incentive?”

  “When we were in the bathroom, he told me that if I wanted him to kiss Miss Letizia, I would have to give him an incentive and… kiss him too.”

  Nic is quiet for a moment, with an incredulous look on his face, then he throws back his head and laughs open-mouthed. Shaking his head as he continues to laugh, he turns to the right suddenly, struck by something. “Well, what do you know… what an idiot…”

  Hearing these words I follow the direction of his gaze and see, in the distance towards the end of the street, Andrea looking at us. “Wave,” Nic tells me as he waves happily with a hand in the air. I copy him after just a second’s hesitation. “Now give me your hand,” he says quietly looking at me again and offering me his open left palm where I place my right one. “And follow me inside without looking back.”

  I go along with him because, in the end, the expert in love is him, certainly not me.

  “If I knew what he has in mind,” Nic says as soon as we’re inside, “I’d tell you. But I really don’t know.”

  “I’ve already understood…”

  “You don’t want me to ask him?” He checks himself right away seeing my horrified expression. “Or investigate discreetly without being discovered?”

  “No!” I exclaim breathlessly. “I already know how things are and it’s all my fault. It’s just as well that that girl showed up… It woke me up in time.” I let my gaze wander to the now dark windows of the cafè. “Maybe I should stop the workouts with some excuse…”

  “No!” Nic answers with a force that makes me turn towards him. “That, no!
You’d only be hurting yourself!”

  I am quiet for a bit, undecided whether to reveal what I think or not. “I know, but seeing him is harder…” I confess.

  Nic thinks about it for a moment, lifting the eyebrow with the piercing. “Wait for a while. Work as best you can for yourself and in the meantime see how things go. If something changes in any way… fine, if not… quit. You’re always in time to quit.”

  I follow his conversation nodding.

  “But hang in there for a little bit longer.”

  I nod again.

  “Now let’s go over to those two,” he says cocking his head towards the table where Linda and Marco are seated talking.

  He turns, but I pull on his hand which I’m still holding.

  “Yes?” He asks, just turning his head.

  “Are you my friend? Because it really feels like you’re my friend right now…”

  He smiles and turns completely around. “Yes, I am your friend and you are my friend. A dear friend.”

  He hugs me and I whisper laughing softly, “We seem like two kids in elementary school…”

  “Who cares.”

  17.

  Exactly a week after the party, I’m overcoming another of my limitations. I’m in a pool – an open-air pool – with Linda and I’m wearing a bikini. I’m lying in the sun.

  Maybe for normal people the phrase, “I’m at the pool, wearing a bikini and lying in the sun”, is the most banal and ordinary thing you can say, but for me it’s almost magic. It’s big. It’s special. Not special, something more… It’s a victory.

  Today was weighing day and I was sixty-eight kilos. Andrea was happy, me too, but I wanted to celebrate with Linda, someone who will always be in my life. Andrea will disappear in a few months. This week, in fact, everything was normal between us, as though the Week of Power had never happened, as though there had never been any poetry, no almost kiss… nothing at all.