Mad About You

by Anna Premoli

  “Exactly – head over heels,” I repeat, realising as I pronunce her words that they are a perfect analysis of the situation.

  “If I can give you some advice, Giada, you can’t always rationally choose the person you fall in love with. In fact, you don’t get much of a say in the matter. I mean, do you think that I would voluntarily have chosen someone as complicated and unsociable and with such bizarre hobbies as Sebastiano? But I love him and I accept him the way he is. I have long since stopped asking myself if he’s the right person for me. He makes me happy, and he’s changed me for the better. I hope I’ve had the same effect on him. So if Ari makes you feel good and if you’re more at peace with yourself than you’ve ever been before, why don’t you do something about it?”

  It’s a good question.

  I puff in annoyance.

  “Because that would require a lot of character, and I’m not entirely sure I have it. I’ve managed to foot myself all these years, but when it was time to put it to the test, I failed.”

  Ale observes me, looking not at all worried. “Do you know what the nice thing about making mistakes is? You can always fix them – well, unless you’re a surgeon. That’s... no, that’s a different level of mistake. But when it comes to apologizing, it’s never really too late.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “I really have trouble apologizing...” I murmur.

  “Who the hell doesn’t?” says Lavinia with a smile. “But you have to be able to try when it’s in a noble cause.”

  “Is there some school I can go to to learn ,how to do it?” I joke.

  “Well, you could always think about opening one,” proposes Ale.

  “I might – if it works...” I remind them.

  “It’ll work,” Vinny assures me. “It’s all about the size of the gesture: the more epic the gesture, the better the final result”.

  “You think?” I ask doubtfully.

  “Well – if it goes really wrong, at least you’ll have something to write about in the textbooks for the school you’re going to open.”

  At first I just shake my head, but soon a crazy idea starts to work its way into my mind. An epic gesture? I’ve never been one for gestures, but perhaps part of the beauty of growing up is learning to question your own limits and yourself.

  *

  Graduation is a big event in our country. More for the parents than for the students, as they’re probably thanking the gods they can finally stop paying the annual fees. Students who say goodbye to university have mixed feelings: on the one hand they’re enthusiastic about the beginning of a new life and on the other they’re terrified of letting go of those beautiful, carefree years.

  All these internships have been helpful in overcoming our fear of the forbidding-sounding ‘world of work’, but it’s one thing to be an intern and quite another to find yourself having to send CVs, do job interviews, look after yourself and suddenly find out that you’re an adult. People who have already gotten it through state you get used to it very quickly and that not having to depend financially on your parents is actually very liberating. I hope to god they’re right.

  In five days it’ll be my turn, but today I am at university because it’s Ari’s big moment. He’s saying goodbye to this university forever. Of course, he might come back to do a master’s or something, but he’ll never just be a student again. From tomorrow he’ll be a young graduate with a prestigious degree in his pocket, a head full of dreams and a lot of determination to achieve them. People like Ariberto are successful not simply because they were born privileged but because they work hard to get the results, whatever it is they’re doing.

  And me? Well, let’s just say I’m working on it.

  I decided to start my character fortification with a bang. As Lavinia says, no words will ever beat a grandiose gesture. If I’ve got to be honest, I don’t actually agree – there are some pretty powerful words – but right now, talking worries me even more than acting, which is why I find myself wandering around the university, carrying a bouquet of red roses the size of an ice-cream van in search of the lecture hall where Ari is going to discuss his thesis.

  What is it the Americans say? Go big or go home? Well, you’d have a job going any bigger than this, both in terms of size and in terms of the total humiliation this bouquet represents. And as for giving flowers to a man.... let’s just say I’m trying to launch a new Milanese fashion...

  I squeeze the heavy roses tight and try to fight against the powerful temptation to just turn tail and run away. I would if Alessandra and Lavinia weren’t supervising the two entrances. Apparently I can’t be trusted when it comes to doing something embarrassing.

  “Hey, Giada!” cries Edoardo, blinking in surprise. Beside him is Lisa, who looks at me as though my presence here with a massive bouquet of roses is perfectly normal. Great... I could really have done without bumping into the whole Castelli family.

  “Hi guys,” I greet them with a shyness I’m usually much better at hiding. I can’t help but wonder if they know what happened between Ariberto and me.

  “You two have had a quarrel, eh?” asks Edo, smiling benevolently. Whatever his brother has told him, he’s obviously played it down, or his family wouldn’t be so friendly. Ari’s always the same: he instinctively defended me even when I deserved to be hated.

  “Yes, something like that ...” I stammer, blushing.

  “Edo, mind your own business!” says Lisa.

  “I’m only trying to help! For someone who is about to graduate, Ari is really down in the dumps,” he says. “By the way, do you want me to get him for you?” he asks, pointing to the classroom behind us. “He’s next up and he’s trying to keep mum and dad busy. They’re pretty agitated.”

  Edoardo’s about to go and get his brother when I reach out and stop him.

  “No, leave him in peace! He doesn’t need me turning up two minutes before he discusses his thesis.”

  “Actually, yes, you turning up is exactly what he needs,” he says with considerable emphasis. His expression is amused, but his words sound loud and clear in my head.

  “Let’s leave him in peace. I’ll have a chance to talk to him after,” I state firmly. He needs peace and quiet – and I need a few more moments to summon up my courage.

  “Ok, whatever you say...” he smiles. Fortunately, he’s decided to let it go. “By the way, beautiful flowers,” he adds with a wink as he enters the classroom.

  I take a deep breath as I watch several of Ari’s classmates take their seats to watch him go before the exam commission and explain his thesis. I’d planned to wait for him out here, but now that I’m only a few feet away, I can’t resist the temptation to watch the discussion too. I hide behind a couple who are entering, hoping to go unnoticed, but either because of the cumbersome presence of an outsize bouquet of roses or because Ari is endowed with some remarkable sixth sense when it comes to me, it only takes a fraction of a second for him to notice me. At first his face is severe, but it soon melts into an expression that is a mixture of disbelief, amusement and hope. Damn him and the way he’s never scared to be honest with his emotions. I wish he’d teach me to be as brave as he is. Though come to think of it, maybe he’s already doing it and this is just one of the lessons.

  I feel my cheeks burn as I climb the steps of the lecture theatre and settle into one of the back rows. The discussion unfolds before my eyes like a film, and it goes by so fast that by the time Ari’s making his closing comments, I feel a wave of panic coming over me. Everyone applauds, some people whistle, and an embarrassed Ari smiles so that his friends and relatives can take pictures of him.

  God, I love this guy... His smile, his positivity, his strength.

  Ari runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it as usual, and then looks over at me. People are rushing down to him to kiss him on the cheeks and congratulate him, but he never stops staring at me. Like the coward I am, I wait for the others to finish. Maybe it’s not too late for me to run off after all
...

  In the end we are the only two left in the classroom. A few moments before it seemed enormous, and now it feels microscopic. I steel my nerve and stand up.

  “Well, congratulations …” I whisper in an uncertain voice.

  Ari shakes his head and walks over to me. I guess if we had to wait for me, we’d be waiting forever.

  “Thanks,” he says, trying to hold back a smile but not quite succeeding. “Actually, I don’t have the faintest idea what I said back there...” he reveals, raising an eyebrow. “I was a little ... distracted.”

  “Ah really?” I ask stupidly.

  “Yup. I don’t know if you noticed, but just before I started, this girl arrived who I hadn’t expected to see in a million years, and she was carrying a rather impressive bouquet of roses...”

  “What, this little thing?” I ask, trying to play it down. “Nah ... I’ve seen much bigger ones around.”

  “Bigger than this one? Really?”

  “The florist says they exist, but if I’m honest, this is one of the biggest she’d ever prepared...” I confess to him. “Anyway, since it weighs a ton, how about taking it off me?” I hand him the immense bouquet and he blushes as he takes it. I don’t know which of us looks more like a red pepper.

  “Giada, I’m sorry,” he blurts out as soon as he has taken possession of the ridiculous mass of roses. Just for the record, I did have the thorns removed.

  I look at him without understanding. Is he apologising to me? What for?

  My confusion must be quite clear on my face because he starts to explain. “I should never have tried to force you to make a decision like that, but in my defence I can only say that I wasn’t thinking straight at the time. I wasn’t really in my right mind...”

  “Oh ...” I whisper. I am not able to conceive even a sentence of complete meaning.

  “You were perfectly right to ask me to wait. You had every right to take your time. And also not to feel the same way I do,” he concludes, a note of suffering in his voice.

  I stare at him. A bunch of a million red roses and he still hasn’t realized I’m in love with him?

  I honestly don’t know whether to burst out laughing or punch him. For someone so sensitive, he can certainly be pretty thick sometimes.

  “Bertha, hold on a moment ...” I say, to try and shut him up. I point at the bouquet. “There’s a card in there.”

  “In the middle of this forest?”

  “Were you expecting it to be easy?”

  “Of course not ...” he replies, smiling back at me and rummaging through the flowers with his beautiful hands. Although well hidden, the card soon emerges. Ari opens it and reads it carefully, then he lowers it and looks at me like I’m some kind of fairy or something. I can’t tell if that’s positive or negative.

  “It doesn’t say much on here ...” he observes cautiously.

  “I know. I’m a girl of few words, apparently.”

  “Yeah, there are only three on here,” he replies.

  Now that I think about it, Ari might be in a state of mild shock.

  “Errrr, yes...”

  “Would you read them out loud to me?”

  “Why? Wasn’t writing it enough?” I ask defensively. “Oh okay, give it here,” I say, grabbing the card from his hands.

  “What, are you worried that you won’t remember what it says?” he laughs.

  “Your memory starts going when you get to my age,” I say seriously. “And anyway, I’d had a couple of drinks before I went to the florist. I could have written anything.”

  At this point, Ari bursts out laughing. “This was really romantic until you started talking,” he says.

  “Yeah, well, apparently I’m not a romantic after all.”

  “You don’t say!” he laughs, pretending to be surprised.

  “Or I am in my own way.”

  “Read it,” he urges me, sensing I’m only playing for time. He puts the bouquet down on a desk and grabs my shoulders. My treacherous body lets itself be drawn to him as though it can hardly wait, then with one hand he lifts my chin and raises my eyes to his. “Come on, I’m getting old here waiting.”

  “OK...” I take the card and squint at it.

  “The quicker you read it, the quicker I kiss you,” he mutters in a sensual voice. A really sensual voice.

  “No public indecency!” I cry. “You might have graduated but I’ve got another five long days ahead of me before I can call myself a former student.”

  “Giada...”

  I get the feeling he’s getting less amused and more impatient. Apparently today really is a day of grand gestures and big words.

  “I love you,” I manage to mutter, not without some difficulty.

  “Can you repeat that a little louder?”

  I shake my head violently.

  “I think that’ll be your lot for a very long time. I’m shocked that I even wrote it. I need time again.”

  Ari laughs happily.

  “We’ll see about that...”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Now I kiss you.”

  And he maintains his promise.

  I’ve always been a sucker for a man who keeps his word.

  *

  A few days later and it is my turn to say goodbye to the university. But unlike Ari’s graduation ceremony, this time I feel happy and without even a thought in my head. It feels a bit weird to have to admit that I don’t really give a monkey’s about discussing my thesis today - after all, the highly competitive girl inside me is still there - but I’m very, very close to being able to define myself completely uninterested in it all. I want to hold my degree in my hand and then I want to go back to holding Ari, because there’s nothing better than being in love at a time of your life when everything’s changing.

  Only a few days ago I would have found myself in a cold sweat just at the idea of being with both my parents and Ari’s, but everything has changed. Or rather, I’ve changed. They’re the same as they’ve always been, and it’s quite right they remain so.

  My father nervously adjusts his tie, which already seemed perfectly straight. My mother, dressed as elegantly as if she had just walked out of a Parisian boutique, is staring at my dark blue skirt suit. It isn’t as eye-catching as hers, but I’m aiming more for comfort than for style this morning. What is new, however, is the astonishing silence that follows her glare: not long ago she would have immediately started criticising. I look at her incredulously. What, really? No negative comments?

  The quiet of the moment is interrupted by the arrival of Ari, who has taken a considerable amount of time to park the car. Either he left it in Monza and walked here or else he was secretly hoping that if he left me a bit of time, my family and I would end up burying the hatchet. He really is a romantic - he always thinks you can resolve problems in a way that’s positive for all involved. Until now, I’d thought my relationship with my parents was a cul-de-sac, but my mother’s zipped-up mouth is making me wonder. Is it possible she’s actually making an effort?

  “Mum, dad, this is Ariberto,” I say, making the official introductions as soon as he joins us outside the lecture hall. “My boyfriend,” I add with a gesture of final courage.

  My parents blink with surprise with such perfect synchronisation that it makes me smile. My father shakes his hand and so does my mother who, after the little initial shock, starts to smile. Yes, I knew that she would be happy and no, I don’t care – well, I don’t care too much.

  Ok, let’s just say that I’m doing my best not to let it be a problem. Ariberto is the living incarnation of pretty much everything my parents have long dreamed of, but it has suddenly stopped being an acceptable reason for my not loving him. Ari is so much more than they imagine, that I don’t care what they think. For them, he’s a young man from a good family dressed impeccably in a grey suit and a tailored shirt, but for me he’s the whole world: he is first and foremost the kindest person I have ever met. He’s someone who doesn’t judge you wit
hout first getting to know you, someone who thinks deeply about even the most complex things, someone who respects what he believes in, even when it seems like it’s impossible. Someone who is true to himself and to others. And of course, he also knows how to wear a shirt like nobody else... which is something I’d never previously realised the importance of.

  “Mr and Mrs Borghi, it is a real pleasure to meet you,” he replies in an elegant tone of voice that visibly thrills my mother.

  I give him a look of warning – I’m fine with him being naturally charming, but I don’t want him going over the top with my parents. Ari smiles at me and gives me a wink.

  Deciding to ignore proprieties, I reach out and grab him in a gesture which is rather possessive for someone who’s never been particularly possessive before. This certainly is a period of big changes.

  “The pleasure is all ours, really,” replies my mother in a surprisingly emphatic voice. But, instead of feeling offending, I find myself smiling in spite of myself. You and I will probably never totally understand each other, mum, but I hope at least that over time we’ll be able to establish a more positive relationship between us. Perhaps today is the first day of that.

  What I’ve learned and I hope to remember, if and when I ever become a mother, is that children are not and cannot be our own reflection. They are born with their own characters and their own predispositions. The greatest form of love we can give them is to respect them as independent human beings and allow them to grow up by letting them choose who they are and by favouring their natural inclinations. And even if we think they’re on the wrong track, going at them like a bulldozer might not be the best way to help them realise their mistake.

  “You two are colleagues at M&K, is that right?” my father asks.

  “Yes, although unfortunately not for much longer: I suspect that in the future Giada’ll want to cut her teeth in some large accounting firm while I am rather inclined to accept M&K’s offer and stay with them a little longer,” Ari explains.