Training in Love

by Manuela Pigna

  “No, no. Either here or nowhere,” I answer without even taking a step.

  “In the middle of the street?” He asks, perplexed.

  “Yes.”

  He observes me for a minute, perhaps undecided whether to insist or not. Then he probably decides he won’t tempt fate any further and sighs. “Okay. Anyway it’s not important.”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t help him in the least.

  He sighs again and scratches the nape of his neck, with a gesture that I’ve seen him do many times. “Olly,” he starts without looking at me, then, slowly, he lifts his eyes of ice to meet mine which regard him severely. “Olly. You don’t know how sorry I am…”

  I don’t answer or comment in any way. I said I would let him speak and I’ll go through with it, unless this is it. But from his attitude it doesn’t seem like it.

  “I… the fact is that…” In fact he starts again, before sighing again and passing his hand through his hair again. “The fact is that I was too enthusiastic about our work. That’s why I did it. I didn’t think of it right away. When I met you I was working on a completely different thesis, but then, a little at a time, seeing you progress in everything, both with your weight and in training, I was so wrapped up and contented… and happy… that I thought I could document this work as my thesis.” He looks at me. If he hopes that I’ll intervene in the conversation, he’s hoping in vain. He glances at the deserted street and a light blush covers the upper part of his cheeks. “And…” He lowers his gaze to his shoes before bringing it back to me again. “And since I needed a subject which was more complicated than simply following a progression of data…” He shrugs, visibly uncomfortable. “I thought about adding the influence of the psychological aspect to this work. That’s why I mentioned between the lines the evening at the lake.”

  He stops, I nod.

  “I was an idiot…”

  I nod again without speaking.

  “As much as I really believe that I didn’t do anything wrong, because I just gathered data without even putting your name and not specifying the gender either – I used the term ‘the subject’ from the beginning to the end…” I raise my eyebrows, because for an apology this seems pretty strange, “I’m sorry, I’m very sorry I didn’t ask your permission to do it as soon as I had the idea.”

  Already better.

  “And I’m sorry for having put in the evening at the lake which I already knew then… was very hard for you.”

  I nod again.

  “I’m sorry, Olly. Really, forgive me… I didn’t want to make you suffer in any way.”

  I nod again and drop my arms. Looking at the ground I speak for the first time. “You made me feel… like your little experiment…”

  “No!” He moves a step closer, putting out his hand, but I back away immediately, taking a step backwards. “I’ve never seen you like this! This isn’t what I had in mind when I did it… I didn’t…” He sighs again before continuing, “Anyway, I know that words are useless in certain circumstances. Actions demonstrate more than rivers of words.”

  I look up again.

  “I wanted to wait for a clear answer before speaking to you, but the thing will take an unknown amount of time and I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t stand not seeing you…”

  I raise my eyebrows, stunned and curious to know what he means.

  “For this reason I asked the twins and Linda to help me this evening… I couldn’t wait for an answer that will come who knows when… I wanted to see you.” I see him swallow and hesitate just for an instant before continuing. “I’ve really missed you. I missed you in America, where I thought about you every single day, and I’ve missed you even more these last few days, when I thought for a few miserable hours to have done it, to have finally captured you, to have made you really, definitively mine… And instead you slipped between my fingers, even before I could close my hand.”

  I open my mouth, shocked.

  “I withdrew my thesis. Or rather… I tried to withdraw it. I won’t be graduating now.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God…” I whisper between my fingers.

  He nods, completely serious, putting his hands in his pockets. “Yes. My professor was furious, but I tried to convince him to let me withdraw and to give me another year to prepare another. So… if he lets me, I’ll graduate next year… If not, I won’t graduate at all.”

  “Oh my God Andrea!” I exclaim in a louder voice, my eyes wide with shock. “You can’t do something like that!”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “You can’t throw everything away!”

  “I certainly can, because the only thing that counts… is you.”

  I straighten, stunned, taking a step back. “Andrea…”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you understand, that you forgive me, I can leave it alone and graduate with your thesis, because I won’t do it. In some small corner of yourself, you’d always have some doubt… the doubt that I was just pretending – just to win you back, to have my cake and eat it too. I’ll go through with it. It doesn’t matter what you say or what happens.”

  I’m not able to say anything and he continues, lowering his voice and looking me straight in the eyes. “I don’t want there to be any doubt in your mind…”

  I look at him, immobile, almost without breathing.

  “Any doubt… that I love you.”

  Again, instinctively, my hand returns to my mouth, to cover it.

  “I love you so much.” After having said this he begins to smile, relaxed, with his hands in his pockets.

  Tears well up in my eyes and my hand, luckily still on my mouth, cover a little sound that rises, unstoppable, in my throat.

  He laughs softly. “You’re beautiful… so sweet and fragile that all it takes is a word to move you. And at the same time so strong and tough, able to resist anything. Anything.”

  I cover my whole face now, with both hands, because the tears have started to fall. I feel him very close by. “And me?” He murmurs laughing, “I, who think I’m so rational and disciplined and then, when I fall in love, lose my mind, completely.”

  I sniff, trying to dry my tears in some more elegant way so he won’t see how I’m crying like a baby.

  “Rational…” He laughs moving closer still. “For my first love I changed country and for you… a much greater love… I’m ready to throw years of study and work out the window.”

  I can’t seem to speak yet, while I try to gather myself with my head bent. And now I feel him touch me. He stretches out a hand and gently winds it in my hair. “And you know something?” He asks in an amused tone. “If you’re with me, if you’re by my side… It doesn’t seem important to me. I could do much more, for you, my love.”

  There, I had just recovered for a second and thanks to these last words I go back to sobbing uncontrollably.

  He laughs again, softly, and then, slowly, he circles me with his arms. “What does this crying mean? Does it mean you forgive me?”

  I let myself relax against him, embracing him and hiding my face in his neck until I calm myself and then I whisper, “You had me at ‘hello’ Andrea. You had me at ‘hello’.”

  He hesitates just for a few seconds. “You had me at ‘hello’?”

  I sigh against his neck, murmuring to myself, “I knew it…” Then, holding him tight, I lean back just enough to look him in the face. “Jerry Maguire, Andrea, Jerry Maguire.”

  He frowns slightly, takes his hands from my waist and letting them run up my back until he arrives at my cheeks, where, with a sweet caress of his thumbs, dries my tears. “Who is he? Do I have to hit him?”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “I can’t believe you don’t know who Jerry Maguire is…”

  He shrugs his shoulders with an expression of pure disinterest.

  I sigh theatrically. “Don’t worry. Sunday afternoon we’ll see about remedying this unpardonable gap in your knowledge.”

  He stops, arrest
ing the movement of his hands just for a second. Then, when a ray of understanding appears in his eyes, he rolls them upwards, puffing. A second later, however, he smiles at me, slowly, more and more, showing all his teeth. “Only if right afterwards we can take care of remedying some of your gaps.”

  I laugh again, finally lightened, and I gently pull his head towards my lips to let him know what I think of his plan.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS, NOTES, CONTACTS

  First of all, I would like to thank Patricia Garvin, who, completely out of generosity and kindness, made this project possible by putting me in contact with Carol.

  Second, but not less important, I would like to thank my translator, Carol J. Coller, who was so fast, gentle and efficient that made me want to write books only to have them translated by her. I’m very happy and it has been beautiful, interesting and fun working with you, Carol. So… thank you very much! J

  Thanks to my dear friend Isa, for having been my first supporter and my personal trainer for writing. Sometimes more a heartless slave driver than a personal trainer, but the idea was to have me reach the end of this book despite my continuous efforts to avoid doing so. I love you, Isa.

  Thanks to my friend Agente Sibox, because without her I wouldn’t have this beautiful title. If she had left me to my own devices, this book would have been called, trivially, “Olivia”, because the name of the main character is normally the only thing I can think of.

  Thanks to another person I came to love recently, Azzurra, my graphic designer, to have created this dreamy cover and to leave her wonderful creativity at my dispotic disposal.

  Thanks to my husband, for believing in me, for secretly reading everything I write and for repeating often, “You just tell me when I can resign.” Tatins, I’m so sorry to tell you, but I’m afraid you will have to wait quite a lot before quitting your job.

  Thanks to Francesca Diotallevi, Francesca Marchesi and all the people that gave me honest and sincere opinions and advices on the original version – I’m sure your words helped me improve this story.

  A special thank to Manuela Busatta, who commented and analyzed the book in every part, dedicating a lot of time and attention to me. Thank you, Manu!

  Thanks to you, whoever you are, for having read until here and having given me a chance and some of your time.

  A little note

  The book The Answer is not in the Fridge really exists. The most interesting concepts illustrated in Training in Love come from this little jewel of a book. They are not creations or thoughts of mine. I used the Italian title of the book in the novel, for several reasons that I will not explain in order to avoid writing another twelve pages. Let’s just say that the Italian version is no longer available, but you English reading people are lucky, because you can easily find it on Amazon, under its original title, Loving Yourself Thin by author Patricia Bacall. This is the most helpful book I have ever encountered in my life. It helped me overcome my darkest moments, but I warn you, despite its small size, it is not an easy book. It’s not that simple to put what it says into practice. It requires a little time and a certain willingness to persevere. Now, having written a whole novel and this little extra note, I think I have said enough. There is just one thing that I feel compelled to underline: you have a responsibility to love yourself, no matter your dimensions or your physical appearance. In this, I wish you all the best.

  Contacts

  If you want to write me, here it is my e-mail: manuela.pigna@gmail.com

  If you want to become my friend in Facebook, I’m inside with a pseudonym, which is: Bella Stevens

  I enjoy archiving and rating and speaking of all the books I read or want to read, so you can also find me, with my real name, in Goodreads.

  If you want to visit me at my little, home-made website, I’ll be happy to hear from you: www.era-una-notte-buia-e-tempestosa.webnode.it

  Here you can also find the Epilogue of Training in Love, from Andrea’s point of view, and the play-list of the songs I listened to while writing.