An Astrological Guide for Broken Hearts

by Silvia Zucca

  “No, Carlo. It was you who didn’t give a damn. I accommodated you. I changed when you said that only stupid people cared about putting on makeup or taking care of their appearance to go to work. Instead, I realize that people who wear makeup feel good about themselves, and that’s why I go for a manicure every month, see?”

  I show him my hands, with the brilliant pink nails, but for some reason, I suddenly feel very stupid for having done it, and for being there in that café talking about our long-dead and buried relationship, after seeing him kiss a stranger.

  “Oh, of course, nails! That’s a huge commitment. I guess that’s why you don’t have time for friends anymore.”

  I ignore his jab. I am used to his ways, especially when he’s angry.

  “We all have the lives we choose for ourselves, Carlo.”

  “Really? Do you think you can always choose?”

  Suddenly the air around us seems to have the consistency of a dense jelly. We are imprisoned inside of it; and it takes a superhuman effort to force out any words at all.

  “Don’t you want the baby? Don’t you love Cristina?”

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t see what you just saw, Alice. How could I kiss another woman if I loved Cristina?” he hisses. “You don’t understand; you can’t understand. I . . . I love her.”

  I turn briefly toward the door, as if the girl were still there, her echo still reverberating in the air along with the trail of her perfume.

  “Are you sure you’re not just getting cold feet about the commitment you’re about to make? I mean, a baby is a huge responsibility.”

  “What do you know about it? Nothing. You haven’t asked me anything. You simply disappeared when I needed your advice and support the most.”

  I look down at my hands, but the glitter and pink nail polish make me feel even more uncomfortable now.

  “I felt . . . betrayed,” I can only murmur, although I know that it doesn’t make much sense. But I remember all too well how awful I felt when I found out. It was like he was moving on with his life when I still wasn’t able to. I had felt like a jar that was fast approaching its expiration date and destined to be left on the shelf.

  “Oh, give me a break, Alice. We haven’t been together for a long time, and it was a good thing that we split up. We didn’t really love each other.”

  I look at him again, more intensely than before. “What are you saying?”

  “That now I know what love is. What I feel for Sonia is true love. I’ve never felt it before, not for you, and definitely not for Cristina.”

  If he had just picked up his teaspoon and shoved it in my heart, it would have hurt less.

  I spent five years with that man, five of the best years of my life, during which time I thought I had found The One; the man I wanted by my side forever, to be my husband and the father of my children. With one sentence, he just erased everything. He has just canceled out the most important relationship that I’ve had, reducing it to nothing more than a joke.

  “Sonia is . . . well, it’s a complicated relationship,” he starts explaining, as if nothing had happened. “To begin with, she doesn’t entirely trust me. The baby is a problem for her.”

  “Well, hello! Smart girl!” What did he expect? Darling, I love you, but I’m about to marry someone else. Oh, and by the way, she’s pregnant.

  Carlo looks at me with contempt. “I can’t expect you to understand. You’ve always been quite superficial, like the rest of the world.”

  “Oh yes, and of course you are such a deep, sensitive individual!” I blurt out, suddenly remembering what Tio had said about his horoscope and why it would be impossible for a Libra with a Pisces Moon like me to be with an Aquarius with Gemini Ascendant like him. Aquarians by definition are the contrarians of the zodiac. You say something is white? You can be sure that even if it was white to him a minute ago, now it’s black. He hates conforming to the masses. Carlo is definitely defying conventions with his love triangle. And then there’s his Moon in Aries . . .

  “It’s your Moon in Aries that makes you impulsive and erratic, you know. Probably contributes to your being a bit of a Peter Pan, making your imminent bond with Cristina feel like a noose around your neck.”

  “What the hell are you saying?” He slams his fist onto the table, and the cup jumps in the air. “Have you lost your mind? Aries, Moon, horoscope? I’m telling you that my life is ruined, and you come out with this crap!”

  “Oh, but of course, you are the intelligent one, going around playing Inseminator and then whining like a baby about your horrible fate.”

  “I expected a little more intelligence from you, Alice. I was wrong. I was wrong about us, too. It took me five years to realize it back then, but now all I needed was five minutes.”

  Of course. Anyone who doesn’t see things his way is accused of lacking intelligence.

  “I needed your friendship,” he says.

  I can’t believe he still has the balls to speak about friendship when he didn’t think twice about using words that cut like knives. At that second, I understand that I’ve always idealized him, and now I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time. Not as the strong, intelligent, charismatic man he was when he was courting me. This time I see a temperamental child who doesn’t want to grow up and is afraid of responsibilities.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he says again, holding his head in his hands.

  Anger overwhelms me like a sudden tide. I understand that I’ve never been special for him. But it doesn’t hurt, because I realize that he is not special for me. Not anymore.

  It’s one of those times that I regret not having a mustache, a quizzical eyebrow, and a gravelly voice. But I have the line, and it’s perfect, ready and waiting since 1939.

  I look into those eyes full of anger and I bite my lip, hesitating for just a second, before I say, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

  21

  * * *

  Bread, Love, and Astrology

  Look here.” Ferruccio indicates the bags that have just been unloaded. “We’re missing number four; it had the spotlights to illuminate the dungeons for the fire signs’ trials. What are we going to do?”

  Thanks to the ratings from the Tio/Magni duo, we have a new sponsor, as well as an avalanche of rave reviews about a possible breakthrough in the quality of our show. We also earned a very cool trip to a medieval castle to record part of the next episode. My god, I almost feel like I’m in Hollywood. To emphasize my status as a brilliant TV writer/producer, I’m wearing a dark blue suit that is very Armani-esque, and I have embodied a professional, efficient, strict, and yet still very feminine attitude. I love this job.

  “What’s going on?”

  The voice behind us makes all three of us turn around.

  There. The only flaw of the day: Carlo is the one who oversees productions outside the studio. Being forced to deal with him after what we said to each other the other day is about as pleasant as repeatedly slamming my finger in a door.

  “Apparently you men forget your responsibilities quite easily,” I add, throwing a sharp glance at Carlo.

  He knits his brow. “Why do we need to bother remembering them, when you women love to remind us ad nauseam?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but Alejandro beats me to it. “I eh-swear it was there, Aliz. I remember, I put with bags, no?” Alejandro whines, stroking his six-pack, trying to reassure himself.

  Oh no, honey, that doesn’t work on me anymore. “I don’t care if you saw it. What’s done is done. Over. In the past. What can you tell me about the present? Where is that bag with the lights?”

  “Um . . . quizás . . . I leaf them . . . they no in any of the cars.”

  “Fine,” I say, becoming the good cop. “That scene is in the afternoon so you have plenty of time to go get them.”

  “But . . . is more than two horas for this!!”

  “I’m sorry; we need those lights.”

  “Bueno, I go.” Alejand
ro shakes his head and walks toward one of the cars.

  “Um, no, sorry, sweetie. Ferruccio needs you here now to set up the first scene, with the earth signs. You can go during the lunch break.”

  “But . . .”

  I raise my hand and delight in a thought of the pollice verso of the Roman emperors when they decreed the death of a gladiator with the flick of a wrist. Do I feel guilty as I watch him walk away with sunken shoulders thinking about the farm where the rest of us will eat lunch without him? Hmm, let’s see . . . Nope, not a bit.

  “I am not going to put those horns on my head!”

  Silence is something that we city folks have no problem shattering.

  “What’s wrong now?”

  As I look up at the sky, still clear and bright, Marlin emerges from the castle wrapped in a magnificent velvet and brocade gown, with her green eyes and auburn hair shining—you can see why people go crazy over her.

  “I refuse to be filmed with a pair of horns on my head,” she exclaims, heading straight toward the motorcycle Davide has just arrived on.

  Man, he’s sexy! Um! I am a strong, professional woman.

  My showdown with Carlo a couple of weeks ago made me realize that I need to change my tune so that I am not strung along anymore. I have grown, improved, and focused.

  “Welcome, Davide. We are preparing for the first shot. The signs are in makeup and Marlin is trying on dresses. Darling, you look magical!” I exclaim, pretending to notice her right at that moment. “You look like a goddess—that dress really shows off your waist! Have you lost weight?”

  “Do you think? These inserts are really slimming.”

  “Do you know what else is really slimming? I know it’s a bit strange, but at the time all the most important women wore them.” I take the Viking helmet from her and mold it onto her head. “Voilà! Stunning. You look so tall with this.”

  I exhale while she walks away happily, muttering that she could put it on after all.

  “You were fantastic. I could never have done it,” says Davide.

  “So . . . why are you here?” I ask him.

  Well done, Alice: detached, professional.

  Now he’s the one to look away, probably intimidated by the gaze of the new and improved Alice.

  “I know the owners,” he explains tersely, unzipping his leather jacket.

  It’s no surprise that this is the first I’ve heard of it. Getting information out of Davide is like pulling teeth. Can you imagine the effort it would take to be with someone like that for life?

  He ruffles his hair again and walks by me. His black jeans hug his thighs and butt tightly.

  “Mmm . . .” I sigh. Yes . . . what an effort.

  What we need to shoot today has the old-school flavor of Family Double Dare, one of those good old game shows where the contestants, divided into teams, must undergo tests of strength, skill, and ingenuity, possibly making fools of themselves and of the human race in general. To achieve this, we’ve divided the representatives of the zodiac signs into four teams.

  One of the first things that I’ve learned, as a new convert to astrology, is that each of the signs is presided over not only by a dominant planet, but also by one of four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. In this way, depending on their element, all contestants will undergo trials that are more or less appropriate to their team, earning points for victories and losing points for defeats.

  “We will begin with Tio’s presentation and then follow the game with the cameras,” says Carlo.

  The game is a sort of race that he, the camera operators, and the assistants will have to follow at close range.

  Since this contest favors the earth element, the qualities it requires are rationality, collaboration, and reasoning. Theoretically, Taurus, Capricorn, and Virgo, the signs ruled by this element, have a character advantage, especially when compared to the fire signs, Leo, Aries, and Sagittarius, who, being more passionate and sometimes bullish, are already making fools of themselves by squabbling over who should go first and who should be team captain.

  As I take my place by Carlo for the shooting, he grabs my elbow and pulls me aside. “Will you cut it out? You’re acting like a jealous girlfriend. We are here to work, not for a field trip.”

  “You’re one to talk!” I answer, pushing his hand aside. “If you haven’t noticed, my name is on this show. It’s like my child, and I follow through on projects I have started. I don’t think that you can say the same.”

  He’s about to come back at me, but I raise my finger to ask him to wait while I dig my vibrating phone out of my pocket. The caller ID lists UNKNOWN NUMBER. I stuff the phone back in my pocket so we can start the competition.

  “Anyway, quit it,” resumes Carlo. “It’s bad enough that you told Cristina to come with us. In her condition, she shouldn’t be under stress, as you know. I don’t know how she let you talk her into it.”

  “I see, it had to be me who convinced her to come?” I was actually just asking myself why he brought her along; ever since we arrived, she’s been clinging to me like a limpet.

  In fact, as soon as the game begins, she hovers behind me like a condor.

  “It’s all Carlo’s fault,” Cristina mumbles. “If it weren’t for him, the two of us would have been great friends.”

  I admit it; the weasel and I did get along for a moment there. But when she got her claws into Carlo, I became the uncomfortable skeleton in her man’s closet, and she became the uncomfortable other half of my best friend. So, friendship was out of the question.

  “Who knows. Anything could have happened,” I answer. I can’t let Cristina crack my armor, after all the effort I’ve made with Carlo, Alejandro, and Davide.

  “I’m just so emotional . . .” she says, clinging to my arm in tears. “The baby . . . I mean . . . I have constant mood swings and I get obsessed with things . . . I think . . . I am so tired.”

  After a pause, she continues, “It was mostly my fault. But it’s stupid to be jealous, right? Because you’re not in love with Carlo, and he is going to marry me.”

  I look back at her and her eyes are desperate, pleading. What she’s actually telling me is that she suspects that Carlo and I are still seeing each other behind her back. I would like to go over to Carlo and shake him, tell him to grow up, once and for all.

  Meanwhile, the four groups have almost reached their goal and are competing for the key to the treasure chest at the end of the path, searching like mad in the slime and drenching Alejandro in mud as he squats to shoot them. As it starts dripping from his eyes to his lips, I see him stiffen and hold back a grimace. I, on the other hand, am holding back a grin.

  “Carlo is just worried about the future,” I say, turning to Cristina. “Try to be patient.”

  At the whistle that ends the race, her “thank you” is lost among the joyful cries from the Air team and the complaints of Alejandro, smeared with mud from head to toe.

  22

  * * *

  The Gemini Connection

  I find Tio on the road in front of the gate, excitedly waving at an Alfa Romeo tossing up gravel in its wake.

  “Are we expecting someone else?” I ask.

  “Andrea,” he says, half to me and half as a greeting to the driver of the car that stops next to us.

  Andrea Magni rolls down his window and lifts his sunglasses, greeting us.

  “What is Andrea doing here?”

  “He was at a conference nearby, and I asked him to join us for lunch,” Tio explains.

  I wanted to tell Tio about Carlo, but now he’s running toward Andrea.

  “Wait, Tio!”

  He slows down and smiles at me.

  “I wanted to talk to you before we break for lunch.”

  “I’m here,” he says, and I look at Andrea, waiting for us one hundred feet away.

  “Yes, but . . .” I’m still not sure it’s right to blab Carlo and Cristina’s problems to a third party, and I especially don’t want to tell them
to a guy who could turn them into mathematical equations, confusing me even further.

  “I have an ethical problem . . .” I begin, grabbing his arm. “What would you do if you discovered that someone you always thought you knew, someone you loved—as a friend—has become . . . how shall I put it . . . promiscuous . . . You always thought that your friend was going in one direction and had made a certain choice, but now you’ve discovered that was not the case.”

  I look at Andrea, who is coming closer to us, and I speak frantically because I don’t want him to reach us in the middle of my speech.

  “I mean, as much as you love him, you just can’t accept his behavior and you don’t know whether or not it’s right to talk to other people about it, because they might behave differently toward him when they find out who he really is.”

  Now that I’ve said it, I feel relieved. It’s a weight off my shoulders, and I truly believe it was right for me to be vague and respect Carlo and Cristina’s privacy.

  When I look up at him, however, Tio remains frozen, having moved a couple of steps behind me.

  “Well?”

  “Well, that seems rather hypocritical of you,” he replies.

  “What?”

  “You should try to understand your friend instead of condemning him. Who are you to judge other people’s feelings? Maybe he wasn’t totally honest with you because he was afraid you wouldn’t understand and end up pushing him away, which would have been much, much worse than living in the shadows where at least your friendship was secure.”

  What is Tio talking about? I am so stunned by his senseless attack that I can’t even open my mouth.

  Andrea tries to stop him by putting a hand on his arm, but Tio turns and walks away, pushing him aside rudely.

  My mind turns to Karin’s words about the fact that Tio really likes me, then my mother’s insinuations, all the affection he always pours over me, and his persistence in finding a boyfriend for me, then dashing my hopes by saying that man is not the right one.

  For a moment, I seem to hear Paola’s voice.