Authors: Manuela Pigna
“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.
The
two girls, the ones who once asked me if he was my boyfriend, have spent a
couple of euros each and now they’re still laughing, all red, while they count
their change on the table. To see them kiss him, to be honest, wasn’t as fun as
seeing Miss Letizia prepare her twenty-euro note.
When
Nic arrives at nine-thirty, accompanied by Linda, I note that Andrea has still
not come back to his post.
“Where’s
the Sleeping Beauty to awaken with a kiss?” Asks Nic, laughing.
Linda
and I greet each other with a kiss. “He went to the bathroom… more than a
half-hour ago.”