Signora Giacci went into the kitchen. The dog trotted along after her. He seemed sincerely interested.
“I just made a stupid, miserable mistake, and now she’s ruined me, you understand? She humiliated me in front of the whole class.” She turned an old faucet, and water ran through a rubber hose, yellowed by the passing years. The water sprayed chaotically onto a white rubber grate with odd, imprecise outlines. It had been cut by hand to fit the kitchen sink.
“She has it all. She has a beautiful place to live, someone who is making her lunch right now. She has nothing at all to worry about. By now, she’s probably not even thinking about what she did. Right, why should she care?”
Signora Giacci reached into a cabinet full of glasses, each different from the others. She chose a glass at random and filled it with water. Even the sides of the glass seemed to be showing the signs of the passing years. She put a kettle full of water on the stove to boil and went into her small living room. The dog followed her obediently.
“And you should have seen all the other girls. They were overjoyed. They were laughing at me behind my back, so happy to see that I’d made a mistake…” Signora Giacci pulled open the door of a cupboard. She reached into a drawer and pulled out some homework and sat down at a table. She started correcting the papers. “She shouldn’t have done it.” She drew and redrew a bright red line under the mistake some girl had made. “She shouldn’t have made me look ridiculous in front of all the girls.”
The dog leaped up onto an old crimson velvet armchair and curled up on the soft cushion, by now well accustomed to his little body.
“You understand, how on earth am I going to be able to go back and face that class? Every time I give someone a grade, someone might very well ask, ‘Are you sure you gave that grade to me, teacher?’ And they’ll laugh, just know they’ll laugh…”
The dog shut his eyes. Signora Giacci put a red D on the paper she was correcting. The poor innocent girl might even have deserved a slightly higher grade. But Signora Giacci continued talking to herself.
Pepito fell asleep. Another paper was immolated on the altar of her indignation. On any more peaceful day, it might easily have cleared the bar and collected a passing grade.
Signora Giacci picked up another paper. The following day was going to be one of weeping and moaning for that class. But in this room, a woman sitting at a table covered by an old oilcloth had provided an answer to the question practically all on her own: It is people who make their possessions resemble them. Because for an instant, everything in that apartment seemed grayer and older. Even a beautiful Madonna hanging on the wall seemed to become a little cruel.
Chapter 12
A cheerful voice on the radio listed the American hits of the moment. Babi, sitting at the desk facing the window, was attempting to study, unsuccessfully. She leaned back in her chair and looked out, trying to concentrate.
On the terrace of the apartment across the way, a man was standing in bright sunlight, fixing something. Things didn’t seem to be going all that well for him either.
Babi tried to repeat the latest algebraic formula she’d just studied. After mentally opening and closing a pair of round parentheses, she was no longer all that certain of what she had put inside them. She looked down and checked in the book. As expected, she’d got it wrong.
The man on the terrace across the way was gone. Babi went back to her formulas. She continued repeating them aloud, checking them now and again in the textbook. She guessed a few of them right and then got tired of doing it.
She picked up a pen that was lying on the desk. It had an odd cap. She looked at a couple of photos that were underneath the desk’s glass top. She and Pallina hugging, sun kissed in a mountain meadow in Cortina. A beautiful postcard from the beach. She remembered it. Pallina had sent it to her the time she’d gone to the Maldives. Or had it been Seychelles? She leaned closer to the postcard but it didn’t help much. The sea on a postcard always looks the same. More or less. She wished she were there, wherever it turned out that beach might be.
She smiled. Up above it was one of those little pictures you get in a photo booth on the street. She and Pallina holding ice cream cones. There was even a caption on it: The Gluttons. The handwriting belonged to Pallina. The gelato, on the other hand, came from Giovanni’s shop. She could remember that day perfectly. The taste of the gelato. She was suddenly hungry.
She went into the other room. It was empty because Daniela was studying in her bedroom and her mother had gone out to play cards. She opened the fridge. A meager display. Skim milk, a few cheeses wrapped in wax paper. Fruit. Vegetables still bundled, not yet washed. A few bottles of Vitasnella diet water and some low-fat puddings. Terrible stuff.
She opted for a low-fat yogurt. She pulled off the paper top, and as usual, the last piece of paper remained stuck to the edge of the container. Without even licking it, she let the paper lid drop into the plastic shopping bag hanging from the handle of the window. If only it had been a fruit yogurt…
She dipped in a spoon and put it in her mouth. A bitter shiver ran all the way down to her feet. What torture.
She went back to her room. She’d dip in for a spoonful of yogurt now and then, and took just the bit from the end of the spoon. That day nothing seemed to suit her. What was wrong with her?
Then she saw it…and understood instantly. There was the poster, hung up on her armoire. Step seemed to smile at her in amusement with his motorcycle rearing up on just one wheel.
And there she was, behind him with both arms wrapped around his waist, holding on for dear life. With the wind in her hair. Her blue eyes seemed bigger. She didn’t recognize herself. For a moment, she forgot the fear she’d experienced and wished she could be behind him on that motorcycle again. Right then, so she could hold tight to him.
A cruel fate by the radio’s programming chose a new song, the latest by George Michael, and it spread through the room, magical and romantic. A shiver, this time of delight, traveled down her back, and her eyes, full of desire, wandered over the large photo until they halted on the phrase written in felt-tip pen at the top right. Legendary pair! And that exclamation point. Step had written it.
Babi looked below that phrase, at the hands gripping the handlebars. The right hand in particular. It had been its fault, it was the guilty one. It had caressed her that night on her bare back; it had attempted to undo her bra. And her own fingers had stopped it. Crazy fingers. She wondered if the left hand was more innocent. She hoped not.
She looked at the clock. It was five o’clock. Time to go. And as she was putting on her sweatshirt, she finally understood. Pallina was right. Daniela was right; her mother and Step were both right. She felt herself being enveloped by a strange warmth of sincerity. And for a moment, she was no longer a liar. Just full of contradictions. But true to her heart.
* * *
Pallina, Silvia, and a few other girls from Falconieri High School were sitting on a chain that groaned, suffering beneath their weight, stretching from one low marble post to another. They swung and swayed, laughing and talking about the topics of the day: Signora Giacci’s snafu, yesterday’s race, Babi’s photo in today’s newspaper.
“There she is.” Silvia pointed to Babi as she approached the Parnaso Restaurant. She greeted them with an amused smile.
Pallina ran to greet her. “Ciao.” They exchanged kisses, affectionate and sincere. The exact opposite of most of the kisses exchanged at the tables of the restaurant where elegant girls were sitting and chatting, luxuriating in the warm sun of that spring afternoon.
“That was an exhausting walk. I didn’t think it was this far!”
“You came on foot?” Silvia looked at her, appalled.
“Yes, since I no longer have my Vespa.” Babi gave Pallina an arch glance.
“Plus I just felt like stretching my legs. But maybe I overdid it a little. I’m not going to have to walk all the way back, am I?”
“No.” Pallina heaved an annoyed
sigh. “Here.” She gave Babi a key ring. “My Vespa is at your disposal.” Babi looked at the large light blue rubber P in her hands. Then she glanced over at Pallina’s Vespa, parked a short distance away.
“Any news about what might have become of mine?”
Pallina tilted her head toward a group of boys.
“Pollo said he doesn’t know anything about it. That means no one stole it, otherwise they’d have heard about it first thing. The police must have taken it. He said that they’ll alert you after a while.”
“Just think if they wind up talking to my folks.” Babi looked over at the group of boys. She recognized Pollo and a few of Step’s other friends. One guy with a patch over his eye smiled at her. Babi quickly looked away. She hoped that Step was with them.
A waiter was standing by a table, hoping for a generous tip. A young man leaned forward in his seat in order to extract his wallet from his trouser pocket. An embarrassed young woman pretended not to know how much the order was going to cost. Actually, though, that same young woman came to Parnaso practically every day and always ordered the same thing. The only thing that seemed to change on a constant basis was the young man taking her to dine there.
Babi continued looking around. A number of motorcycles roared to a halt nearby, and Babi turned hopefully to look at the new arrivals. Her heart pounded furiously. But to no avail. These were just random young men, as far as she was concerned, and they walked to their tables calling greetings. None of them resembled Step in the slightest.
“Who are you looking for?” Pallina’s tone of voice and expression left no doubts. She knew.
“No one. Why?” Babi put the keys in her pocket without looking at Pallina. She was sure that her eyes, honest to a fault, would give her away.
“Nothing, it was just that I thought you were searching for someone…,” Pallina persisted. Babi wondered how much she knew. And she glimpsed herself, stunned. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes rapt and dreamy, and that shattered her reverie, that kiss not given.
“So long, girls.” Babi said a hasty farewell as a blush spread over her cheeks. And it was no longer just the recent effort of the walk.
Pallina went with her to the Vespa. “Do you know how it works?”
Babi smiled. She undid the steering lock and turned on the ignition. She gave it a push forward. The kickstand retracted with a screech of springs.
“What are you guys doing this evening?” a man’s voice asked.
Pallina raised her eyebrows. “Hey, this is a new twist. Are you deigning to go out with us?”
“You sure do like to argue. I just asked what you’re up to!”
“Oh, I don’t know. If you like, I’ll phone you or have someone phone you.” Pallina glanced at Babi archly, and looking past her, Babi suddenly glimpsed him. Step. His dark eyes, his bronzed skin, his short hair, and his hands marked by shattered smiles, broken noses, and other facial features that had once been intact.
His voice. Full of contradictions. He’d been right. A flash of pride took hold of her.
“No thanks, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow after school,” he said. “It was just idle curiosity.”
“Whatever you think is best…” The Vespa carried Babi off quickly before that weak dam of pride could be shoved aside by a dangerous and stormy flood of emotion.
Pallina watched her go. The sweet way she used her shoulders to shift the gears. That faintly determined head, the hasty way she fled the scene. Pallina finally knew exactly what Babi wanted.
“Excuse me, girls.” Pallina turned and reached in her pocket to pull out two hundred-lire coins and flipped them in the air. “I have a mission to perform…I have a phone call to make.” She snatched the coins out of the air and, with the attitude of a tough broad, strode into the bar. “Ah, if it wasn’t for me…”
She picked up the receiver. On the display at the top right appeared a number: ₤100. Someone hadn’t used all their money. That small savings already struck her as a good sign. Cheerfully, she dialed the number. It rang. This mission was destined to be successful.
* * *
Babi parked Pallina’s Vespa in the family garage. It was perfect. Her father would never be able to see the difference. She pushed it even closer to the wall so he wouldn’t have anything to complain about.
She looked at her watch. A quarter to seven. Holy moly! She went galloping up the steps. “Ciao, Fiore.”
The doorman didn’t have time to return her greeting before Babi hastily opened the door. “Dani, is Mamma back?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, that’s good.” Raffaella had grounded her. Babi wasn’t allowed to go out until next week, and it struck her as a bit much to violate parole on the very first day.
Daniela looked at her with annoyance. “So, still no news about our Vespa?”
“Nothing. The police must have it.”
“What? Oh great! What are they using it for, high-speed chases?”
“They tell me that, sooner or later, the police will call us to give it back. We just have to make sure we intercept the phone call before Mamma and Papà…”
“Easier said than done. What if they call in the morning?”
“Then we’re done for. But for now, Pallina gave us her Vespa. I put it in the garage, so when Papà comes home, maybe he won’t notice a thing.”
“Oh, speaking of which, Pallina called.”
“When?”
“Just a little while ago, when you were still out. She said to tell you that they’re going out and they’re going to Vetrine. That she’ll wait for you, not to act all difficult and just come. She said that she knows everything. And then she said something else, ummmm, it was like the name of an animal. Puppy, little mouse…Oh, right, she said, ‘Say hi to the little fish for me.’ Who’s the little fish?”
As Babi turned to look at Daniela, she felt wounded, found out, betrayed. So Pallina knew.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just a joke of ours.”
It was going to be too complicated to explain. Too humiliating. Rage swept over her for a second and followed her silently into her bedroom. In the sunset painted on the glass panes of her window, she glimpsed the arc of that story. Step’s mouth, his amused smile, the story, and Pollo next to him, his laughter and then Pallina and who knows who else.
She’d been stupid. She should have told her girlfriend. She would have understood her and consoled her. She would have been on her side, as always. Babi had no doubt about that. And this, at least, was nice.
Then she looked at the big photo on her armoire. And for a moment, she felt a stab of hatred. But only for a fleeting instant. Slowly, her arms dropped to her side, silently, weakly. Pride, dignity, fury, and indignation overcame her as she approached his image.
For a moment, they seemed to smile at each other. Arms wrapped around each other in the setting sun, close even if different. He was made of laminated paper; she was filled with clear-eyed emotions, finally lucid and sincere. They looked at each other.
Then she shyly lowered her eyes and, without wanting to, found herself facing the mirror. She looked at herself, and in that moment, she failed to recognize herself. Her eyes dancing, smiling, that luminous flesh…Even her face seemed different to her.
She pulled her hair back, and for an instant, she was someone else. She smiled happily at what she’d never been before. A woman in love, uncertain and worried about how to dress that evening.
* * *
Later, after her folks had given her yet another dressing-down and had then gone out for one of their usual dinners, Babi walked into Daniela’s bedroom. “Dani, I’m going out.”
“Where are you going?” Daniela asked.
“To Vetrine.” Babi pulled a few sweaters out of Daniela’s drawers and threw open the doors of her armoire. “Listen, where did you put the black skirt…the new one…”
“I’m not lending it to you! If I do, you’ll throw that one away too! No way.”
&nb
sp; “Oh, come on. It was just bad luck that time, no?”
“Yes, but tonight you might have more bad luck. You might wind up in a mud puddle. No, I’m not lending you that skirt. It’s the only one that actually fits me. I really can’t let you have it, no kidding.”
“Right, but then when I race as a chamomile or get my picture in the newspaper, then you boast to all your friends and tell them that you’re my sister. But you don’t tell them that you refused to lend me your skirt!”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it, believe me. You just need to ask me a favor.”
“All right, go ahead and take it.”
“No, now I don’t want it anymore…”
“No, now you have to take it…”
“No, now I don’t want it…”
“Oh, really? Then unless you’re wearing my skirt when you walk out that door, I’m going to call Mamma right up and let her know.”
Babi swung around angrily on her sister. “You’re going to do what?”
“Exactly what I just told you.”
“I’ll slap your cheeks red as a tomato…”
Daniela made a funny face, and at last, they both burst out laughing. Daniela went into her bedroom and opened the closet.
“Here.” She laid the black skirt on the bed. “It’s all yours. Dive into mud with it, if that’s what makes you happy.”
Babi took the skirt in both hands and held it up against her belly. She started trying to imagine what she could wear over it.
The telephone rang. Daniela went to answer it. “Hello? Oh, hi…”
In her room, Babi turned up the radio. The music inundated the apartment.
Daniela put down the receiver. “Marcello, hold on for a second.” She shut the door to the hallway and then resumed talking, relaxed now.
Babi turned her bedroom upside down. The armoire stood open, all the drawers spread out on the floor. There was clothing on the bed. Indecision.
One Step to You Page 11
