“Shut up. Don’t speak,” I continue in a low voice. “Don’t speak. I warned you…” He raises his eyebrows. “I warned you that I wouldn’t forgive you… and there it is, I don’t forgive you!”
I start to leave, but he shakes himself and blocks my escape route. He takes me by the arm and pushes me against the wall. “Wait! I don’t get any of this! What are you talking about?” He asks me with his face almost mutated by an emotion I don’t recognize.
I laugh, bitterly to be sure. “Oh please…”
He inhales. “Who is that guy?”
I narrow my eyes. I make them as small as too cracks, two wounds. “As though you didn’t know…”
“And in fact I don’t know!” He cries, upset.
I try to free my arm but he doesn’t let me go.
“Children.” I suddenly hear the calm voice of Madame Barbieri. I had forgotten she was here. I turn towards her as she appears at my side. She has a hand delicately placed on Andrea’s outstretched arm. “Explain to a poor old woman what is happening please. I’ve lost the thread.”
I am angry, I’m boiling, I’m furious… but I am not able to not answer her. Courtesy dictates it and her slight figure is, by now, so dear to me that my obligation is even greater. Sighing, I turn to her. “It happens that I told this arrogant and bossy piece of idiot that I didn’t want to close any circles with Donato Poggi. But as usual, he didn’t listen to me and did what he wanted to do!”
Madame Barbieri frowns, but I don’t know what she’s about to say because Andrea beats her to it. He shakes me and, doing this, turns me towards him. “Is that him? That’s him?”
I look at him blackly without answering.
“Who is Donato Poggi?” Madame Barbieri asks.
“He’s the nephew of Miss Letizia that I didn’t want to meet because I already know him and…” I leave the sentence hanging, fixing my gaze on her and I see a flash of understanding in her eyes.
“That’s him?” Andrea asks again. He seems incredulous.
I ignore him.
“Excuse me Olivia dear, but I still don’t understand what Andrea has to do with Letizia’s nephew.”
I sigh, yanking my arms, but without any result, with my face turned towards the elderly lady who, by now, I consider my friend. “When we played cards at your house, on the way back, he suggested that I meet him to ‘close a circle’, that he would be there to help me. But I told him no, that I didn’t want to do it at all and he did it anyway!” I conclude, raising my voice and turning towards Andrea, looking at him with this betrayal in my eyes.
“But I didn’t do it Olly!” He blurts out shaking me, with a crazed look and an urgency in his voice.
“Stop, stop, children,” Madame Barbieri interrupts. “So Andrea knows why you don’t want to see him?”
“Yes!” I cry fervently.
Something passes over the face of the woman, but it’s too fast for me to read it and she advances with another question, “And you think that Letizia’s nephew is here right now because of Andrea?”
“Yes!”
She turns to him, “While you, Andrea, are not involved in this?”
“No!” He exclaims vehemently.
Madame Barbieri sighs.
He turns towards me. “I didn’t do anything Olly. This time I swear to God that I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me!”
“Wait!” Exclaims Madame Barbieri. “Let’s go, I have an idea.” So saying she turns and trots towards the dining room. We watch her, hesitating just a few seconds, and then follow of common accord, but Andrea doesn’t let go of my arm.
Madame Barbieri perches once again on her stool. Andrea finally lets go of me when I have to step up behind the counter and goes back to sit in his place.
Leo has disappeared, while Donato Poggi has finished his croissant and is sipping his cappuccino. When he sees me return, he looks up and follows me with his gaze. “Olivia Balestra…” He murmurs, “Olly.”
Moby for you, jerk…
“Olivia dear,” Madame Barbieri intervenes, “Do you know this young man?”
“Vaguely,” I mutter, glancing at him.
He suddenly freezes on his stool. He straightens up and a slow smile appears on his lips. He’s still a handsome boy, more mature, maybe a little less fresh-faced, but his fine features have remained. “Vaguely?” He asks sarcastically. “I can’t believe it… You’ve forgotten me…” He eyes run over my figure again. “You wound me,” he says with the voice of someone who is just fine.
I am reddening, but with anger, not shame. In that moment I notice a fleeting movement on the edge of my vision. Andrea is glaring at him. He has a hand resting on the counter which continues to open and close and when it closes, his knuckles are white.
“How did you meet, Olivia dear?” Madame Barbieri asks.
I don’t know what she wants to demonstrate with this horrible conversation, but I want to follow her wherever she wants to go with it. “At school.”
“Oh!” She turns towards Donato Poggi. “So, young man, you’re here for a school reunion?”
He turns to Madame Barbieri and, when he sees her, he makes a face. Rude, as well as being a jerk. “What reunion? I didn’t know Balestra was here…”
I take a deeper breath, a breath that finally reaches my lungs and I turn towards Andrea. He turns to me at the same moment. We look in each other’s eyes. We have a non-verbal conversation, I’m more than certain of it.
“Forgive me, I didn’t know anything about it. I accused you unjustly.”
“I told you I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
And his gaze is so sweet now that I have to tear mine away if I don’t want to liquefy right then and there.
“Anyway you look good Balestra. Really very, very good,” says an unpleasant voice, unfortunately still present.
“You, on the contrary, are the same.” I don’t know why I’m speaking to him. I had sworn to ignore him and pretend he didn’t exist if I ever met him again in my life. The fact that Andrea is not involved with all this must have gone to my head.
“Still handsome?” He asks with a slap-worthy face.
“No,” I reply tersely, and his smile evaporates.
“Oh,” he says, lowering his gaze to his spoon. Then, with studied nonchalance, he continues, “Too bad, I had half an idea to give you my number…” He lifts his eyes to mine, his obnoxious smile has returned. “But maybe you’re not interested.”
“In fact, I’m not interested,” I reply immediately. His smile disappears another time. I decide that, now or never, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. If I waste it, in all probability there won’t be another. Following my instinct, following a crazy idea, I come closer to him. I lean over the counter coming nearer to his face, to bring my lips not too far from his ear. “And you know why I’m not interested?” I ask in a low voice with an ingratiating tone. “Because I wouldn’t go out with you even if you were the last man on the face of the earth, jerk.”
This said, I move away and I see him redden. Donato Poggi is blushing! I feel like yelling!
“I have to pay,” he says shortly.
With a smile I take a couple of steps back and stick my head in the kitchen. “Leo? The guy has to pay!”
I don’t turn towards Madame Barbieri and Andrea until Donato Poggi has paid and left the cafè. And when I do, I find their faces smiling and content.
“I closed a frigging circle,” I exclaim smiling, happy, surprised… Surprised at myself.
Andrea just looks at me, without saying anything, but his smile widens and becomes even more warm.
19.
The thirty-first of July is the twins’ birthday, and usually the Saturday of that week they have a party somewhere.
This year, besides their birthday, there is Linda’s graduation to celebrate. For this reason they’ve decided to have a mega-party at their house. There will be a pretty l
arge group of people and it will definitely be a big thing, including a catering service. All of the ground floor will be used, the yard and the game room too. The preparations for this party have been going on for weeks. Yesterday for example, there were even the people setting up the lights in the garden.
Andrea won’t be there. I already know because early tomorrow morning he leaves for the U.S. He’ll be away for a good two weeks, even if the Iron Man lasts less than a day. He’s taking advantage of it to take a vacation and visit the States a bit. He’s going alone, so he’ll decide on the itinerary when he’s there, day by day. We said goodbye this morning (it was also weighing day – sixty-seven kilos) after our workout. In a certain way I prefer that he isn’t here. He’d undoubtedly come with some girl and it would only hurt me to see them for the entire evening… Instead, I can have fun without worries and maybe meet someone new. Someone who’ll cure me of this blond disease.
When I go into the house, I look around for the twins and Linda right away. I know I won’t run into Mrs. Bonaventura because the parents decided to go away for the weekend.
The very wide living room on the ground floor is already full of people. Against the wall bordering the kitchen there’s a temporary buffet, where food and drinks are placed, with the catering boys and girls scattered here and there. I pass through the veranda to reach the backyard and am left open-mouthed – literally open-mouthed – because the effect is incredible. The lighting guys have done a magnificent job. There are burning torches and little lanterns scattered in a circle around the yard and near the tables they form a sort of courtyard. At the center of every table there is a lit candle, and the fact that there is no wind helps to keep the little flames alive. I think the space in the middle is for dancing, but no-one is doing it. They’re all standing or seated at the tables chatting. There are also lights on the trees, small, yellow lights which create a genuinely romantic, and a little dreamlike, atmosphere.
A DJ, a friend of Nic’s, is positioned on the veranda and is now putting on a piece by David Guetta. I see Linda nearing the area of the DJ looking stunning this evening with her long blond hair worn loose, straightened silky smooth, and wearing a short silvery dress with matching sandals. The twins pop up near Linda, both dressed in black, but Nic is also wearing a narrow red tie and a chain hanging from a belt loop and wrapping around to the back. Marco is more elegant, even without a tie, because he isn’t wearing black jeans, but cloth pants with a stripe in the middle. Next to Nic is Andrea’s model. Her again.
I come closer with a little hesitation. Standing in front of them and seeing how they’re dressed I start to regret not having worn something more simple…
“Olly!” Nic exclaims, the first to notice me as I come nearer. “You’re gorgeous!”
The others turn around and Linda smiles at me. I’m wearing a dress of black denim, brand new – bought today - all form-fitting. All. It was a risk, but I wanted to give it a try. In fact I’m already regretting it. It doesn’t even have straps, my shoulders are completely uncovered and it wraps my whole body down to mid-knee. The skirt is so tight, even if the jeans fabric is elasticized, that I have trouble walking. I have a pair of black sandals. The heels aren’t particularly high, but they’ve already given me a bit of trouble, continually sinking into the ground in the garden. My hair is loose and in ringlets and I wanted to be a little more daring with my makeup too, outlining my eyes with black while wearing a pink lipgloss with sparkles on my lips.
“Heavens, we’ll have to get you a body guard…” Says Linda.
“I hope I don’t have to punch anyone the evening of my birthday…” Marco remarks, almost at the same time.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh come on!”
We continue to chat about this and that, exchanging a few words with the model, who I discover is called Elena, until Nic comes to whisper in my ear, “Come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He takes me by the elbow and we move away. I glance at Elena. Is she officially going out with Nic now? I couldn’t say. She remains impassive, chatting with the people around her. I can’t tell if she’s even noticed that Nic is leaving.
“I wanted to tell you something…” He tells me in front of the drinks table. “But no, forget it.”
I stamp a foot on the ground. “Oh no! You can’t do that! In that case you shouldn’t have said anything!”
He laughs and I can’t resist, “What are you doing with Andrea’s model?”
“She’s not Andrea’s model,” he answers as he takes out two glasses from one of the catering waiters. “And she’s not a model.”
“Ah no?” I ask with interest, taking a sip. “And what does she do?”
We move a little towards the center of the room. “She’s a pharmacist.”
“Oh please, you’re kidding! Tell me that that girl hasn’t got a degree in pharmacy! The world would be too unfair!” I burst out with my mouth hanging open.
Nic laughs. “Then it’s not fair…”
I shake my head and Nic continues with a smug half-smile on his lips, “Anyway, I keep her busy - very busy - so she doesn’t reach out her tentacles to you know who.”
“You’re very useful Nic. Too bad that she’s already reached them out…” I reply, bowing my head.
“No, she hasn’t.”
“No?”
“No.”
I ponder this and then say, “Too bad then, since it’s hopeless anyway…”
“That’s what you think-” He stops in mid-sentence, looking over my shoulder towards the door. “Speak of the devil…”
I turn and see Andrea with a dark-haired beauty at his side, tall and voluptuous. One good thing about Andrea is that he isn’t too fussy about the coloring and physical dimensions of the girls he goes out with, they’re all different. The bad part is that they all are fine. That is, all of them except me, obviously.
I huff. He’s gorgeous… what a pain! He has dark pants and a black shirt, tight, but not too much so, untucked so as to cover his belt. And just how good does he look dressed in black with that super-blond hair he has? And what is he doing here when he said he wouldn’t come?
“Yeah, he told me he wouldn’t be coming too…”
Hearing Nic’s voice I realize that I’ve spoken and didn’t just think it. Two seconds in his presence and I’m already making mistakes.
Nic and I observe him as we speak. “This new entry?” I ask him casually.
“Never seen her.”
It isn’t even thirty seconds that we’re watching them and yet Andrea turns around as precise as a compass towards us and intercepts my gaze.
“What a pain… Already caught…” I murmur grumpily. Right, suddenly I’m in a bad mood.
Nic laughs beside me. “Wave,” he says raising his hand repeating the same, identical gesture towards Andrea and his companion, with the same smug face and the same identical tone of voice as a few weeks ago. “And try to smile… it looks like, all of a sudden, your cat died.”
I wave then turn to Nic and say sarcastically, “Funny guy… Tell me, is it the effects of being another year older? How many is it? Thirteen?”
Nic laughs, throwing his head back.
“I’m going to get something to eat,” I grumble.
“I’m going back to Elena.”
“See you later.”
He nods and we head in opposite directions – me to the buffet table and he towards the veranda to go out in the yard.
It’s not that I want to throw myself on the food, I’m getting better with that, it’s a continual struggle, but as time goes by I’m getting better at managing my negative energy fields. But the fact is, at parties when I don’t know anyone, when I don’t speak to anyone and it seems as though everyone else is occupied… I feel embarrassed. And then, in order to do something or just have something in my hands… I eat or drink.
I calculate what I could nibble that isn’t too compromising and opt for a canapé with artichoke on top and what seems to be soft c
heese underneath. I have a glass which is still practically full in my hand, so I have to take the canapé with one hand, the left, the clumsy one. This operation occupies my complete concentration because the artichoke is terribly precarious and trembles for the entire route from the table to my mouth. I’ve almost done it when I hear a voice practically inside my right ear, “How many is that?”.
The surprise makes me jump and the artichoke, already unsteady from the beginning, falls on me, rolling down my body to the floor. The canapé flops over in my hand which fills it with soft, slimy stuff. I recognize that voice perfectly and turn around incinerating him with my gaze. “It was the first!”
He smiles and puts his hands in his pockets. He seems satisfied. I have a glass in one hand and the upside down canapé in the other and a greasy stripe that runs down my dress from my left breast to my feet where the small defenseless artichoke is lying. It is the first dress that I’ve bought in maybe ten years. Certainly the first dress than didn’t repulse me to put on, even if it took courage. I’m suddenly annoyed. “Damn, why don’t you quit moving around so quietly?” I ask him with irritation. And what is he doing here? He wasn’t even supposed to come… And why isn’t he on the other side of the room with his babe?
“You know how much this dress cost me?”
He looks at it, in its entirety, from the wrapping over my breasts down to my feet and back, and has a look on his face… a look that it’s better that Linda doesn’t see - it would fill her head with illusions. He hasn’t yet looked up at my face and I feel a small, uncontrollable shiver which I try to eliminate by quickly shrugging my shoulders. And attacking him, “It was the first that I’ve bought in almost ten years and the first since-” I stop. The babe has materialized behind Andrea and has a decidedly irritated look on her face. I’d even say she’s giving me a dirty look, but I’ve never had a dirty look from a woman in my life. Looks of scorn, looks of pity, looks of compassion, friendliness, kindness, yes. Looks of happiness and relief because I don’t represent a threat too. Lots of these last ones. But nasty looks, or dare I say almost… jealous ones? No, never. Therefore, the babe must be mad for some personal reason and isn’t one of those people who are able to resist dumping their anger on the surrounding world or not taking it out on people who have nothing to do with it – myself on this occasion. Maybe she’s mad at Andrea. Oh, how I understand her.
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