One Step to You

by Federico Moccia

  Ten past eight. He must have lost his mind. He tried to remember the last time he’d gotten up that early, but nothing occurred to him. He smiled. Just three days ago, that was when he’d returned home.

  In the darkness of her room with the telephone still in her hand, Babi continued staring at the glass pane for a while. She imagined him in the street. It had to be cold out. She shivered on his behalf.

  She went back to the living room, handed the telephone back to her sister, and then sat down beside her on the sofa.

  Careful not to be noticed, Daniela was curiously studying Babi’s face. She wanted to ask her a thousand questions. She’d have to settle for those eyes that suddenly stared at her happily before going back to watching television.

  For a moment, that old black-and-white film seemed to be in full, glorious color. Babi didn’t understand any of what they were talking about in it, and her mind wandered off, captivated by her own thoughts. Then she suddenly returned to reality. She looked around, worried, but nobody in the room seemed to know what she was thinking. Tomorrow, for the first time in her life, she was planning to skip school.

  Chapter 20

  Paolo was sitting at the table, idly leafing through the newspaper. When he got to the business section, he focused a little more intently. Just then, a noise attracted his attention. The milk had boiled over, foaming over the sides of the little pot onto the burner below, partially extinguishing the flame.

  He ran toward the stove. Now the coffee came gurgling up under the lid of the Moka Express coffeepot.

  Paolo turned off both burners. Then he picked up the pot of milk and the coffeepot and went back to the table. Midway there, he realized that they were both burning his hands. He picked up his pace, going faster and faster, until finally he was running. When he reached the table, he was finally able to set them down.

  He waved his hands in the air, now free to cool off, and sat down. He looked around. There wasn’t much there for breakfast. Strange. He’d asked Maria to bake an apple pie. Naively, he supposed she must have forgotten. He opened a jar. Cookie fragments still lay on the bottom of the jar in a golden dust. He bit into one. It crumbled in his mouth without a hint of flavor. This wasn’t turning out to be one of the better breakfasts in his life.

  He remembered a pastry he’d bought for emergency situations. He decided that this might be one of those cases. He opened several cabinets. At last he found it. He’d hidden it well to keep it from the ravenous hunger of Step and his friends.

  He set it down on the table, unwrapped it, and cut himself a slice. Just then, Step came in. “Ciao, brother.”

  Paolo looked up at him and then shook his head. “Does this seem like the time of the morning to come home? Now you’ll spend the rest of the day in bed, then, best case, you’ll go to the gym, and come evening, you’ll be out and about again with Pollo and the other half-dozen criminals you hang out with. Life is good for you…”

  “Very good indeed.” Step poured himself some coffee and then some milk. “As it happens, though, I’m not coming home. I’m leaving.”

  Paolo glanced at his watch with some concern. Then he must be late. No, it was seven thirty. He heaved a sigh of relief. Everything was under control. Still, something didn’t add up. Step had never left the house at that time of the morning. “Where are you going?”

  “To school.”

  “Ah.” Paolo relaxed. Then he suddenly remembered that Step had finished school the year before last.

  “What for?”

  “Fuck, what’s with all these questions, and at the crack of dawn too?”

  “Do whatever you want, just try to stay out of trouble. Wait, didn’t Maria make an apple pie?”

  Step looked at him with an innocent expression. “Apple pie? Not that I know of.”

  “Are you sure? It’s not like you ate it all up, you and Pollo and those other pigs you call your friends?”

  “Paolo, why do you always have to insult my friends? It’s not nice. What, do I ever insult yours?”

  Paolo remained silent. No, Step didn’t insult his friends. But then, how could he? Paolo had no friends. Every so often a colleague or some old university classmate would call him, but Step could hardly have insulted any of them. They’d already been insulted by life. Dreary and sad. It wouldn’t be fair to punish them any further.

  Step put on his jacket and left. “Ciao, Pa. See you later tonight maybe.”

  Paolo stood there for a second, staring at the now-closed door. His brother always managed to astonish him. Who knew where he was going at this time of the morning? He decided that, when all was said and done, it really was none of his business.

  He drank a sip of coffee. Then he turned to eat the slice of pastry that he’d left on the plate in front of him. He realized it was no longer there. It had vanished.

  One way or another, you always came up short when you were dealing with Step.

  * * *

  “Ciao, Papà.” Babi and Daniela got out of the Mercedes, and Claudio watched his daughters head off to school. One last goodbye and he drove off.

  Babi took a few more steps. Then she turned around. The Mercedes was far away by now. She galloped down the steps and, just then, crossed paths with Pallina.

  “Ciao, where are you running off to?” Pallina asked.

  “I’m leaving with Step.”

  “Really? Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. Around. To start with, we’ll go get breakfast. This morning I was too excited to be able to get anything down. Just think about it. This is the first time I’ve skipped school…”

  Pallina smiled at her. “I was excited my first time too. But at this point, I can sign my mother’s signature better than she can!”

  Babi laughed.

  Step’s motorcycle roared to a halt right in front of them on the sidewalk. “Shall we go?”

  Babi looked at that smile, those eyes, those broad shoulders. Only then did she realize how badly she’d wanted to see him. She gave Pallina a hasty kiss goodbye and climbed up behind him, thrilled and excited. Her heart was racing at two thousand kilometers per hour.

  “Take my advice, Pallina. Do your best not to flunk, and take notes on who gets tested.”

  “Okay, boss!”

  “And keep quiet about this, okay? Not a word to anyone.”

  Pallina nodded in silence and smiled.

  Babi looked around, worried that someone might happen to see. Then she wrapped her arms tight around Step. By this point, she’d done it.

  The motorcycle shot forward, taking her far away from school, from boring hours in the classroom, from Signora Giacci, from her classwork and the sound of the bell, that sound that sometimes seemed never to arrive.

  Pallina enviously watched her friend as she vanished into the distance. She was happy for her. She said hello to a few other classmates and started climbing the steps, chatting away without realizing that someone was watching her. High above, a hand, beautified by an old ring with a violet stone at the center, as hard as the woman who owned it, let a curtain slide back into place. Someone had seen everything.

  * * *

  In Classroom 3B, all the girls were worried. The first period was Italian, and the teacher, Signora Giacci, was going to be testing them. This was definitely one of the subjects that would be on their final exam of high school.

  The students sat down at their desks, exchanging hellos. One last young woman entered in haste. As usual, she was late. The girls chatted nervously. Suddenly there was an obsequious silence. Signora Giacci was at the door. They all snapped to attention.

  Signora Giacci surveyed the class. “Be seated, girls.”

  She was strangely cheerful this morning. That didn’t promise anything good in store. As she read the roll call, various girls raised their hands, replying with a respectful “Present.” One young woman, whose last name started with C, was absent. At F, another young woman, hoping to distinguish herself, let go with a disrespectful “Here.�
� She was promptly scolded by Signora Giacci, who mocked her in front of the rest of the class. As usual, Catinelli made a show of appreciating the teacher’s subtle sense of humor. So subtle that it completely eluded the notice of almost everyone else.

  “Gervasi?”

  “She’s absent today,” someone replied from the back of the class. Signora Giacci put an A next to Babi’s name in the ledger. Then she slowly looked up. Her desk was empty.

  She turned her gaze slightly to the right. “Lombardi.”

  Pallina, who was distracted, leaped to her feet. “Yes, teacher?”

  “Why didn’t Gervasi come to school today?”

  Pallina was slightly nervous. “Oh, uh, I really don’t know. I talked to her last night on the telephone, and she told me that she wasn’t feeling great. Maybe she felt worse this morning and decided not to come to school.”

  Signora Giacci looked at her. Pallina shrugged her shoulders. Signora Giacci narrowed her eyes until they were two impenetrable fissures. Pallina felt a shiver run down her back.

  “Thanks, Lombardi. Please be seated.” Signora Giacci continued calling roll: “Ilari…”

  “Present.” A young woman at one of the desks in front raised her hand.

  Signora Giacci put a P next to her name. Then she looked up. Her gaze met Pallina’s. A mocking smile appeared on the teacher’s face. Pallina turned red. She looked away, embarrassed. Could her teacher know something? On her desk was the phrase that she herself had carved into the surface with a pen: Pallina and Pollo forever. She smiled. No, that was impossible.

  “Marini.”

  “Present!”

  The teacher had gone back to calling the roll, so Pallina relaxed. She wondered where Babi was at that very moment. They’d definitely already eaten breakfast. Perhaps a nice maritozzo pastry with whipped cream at Euclide, along with one of those cappuccinos that were all foam. She wished with all her heart that she could take Babi’s place, but with Pollo instead of Step.

  Signora Giacci shut the ledger and started lecturing. She laid out her lesson with joy and seemed particularly relaxed. As she strolled along between the desks, a ray of sunlight struck her hands. Illuminating the finger she was toying with, an antique ring glowed with a violet light.

  * * *

  From the noises of the city, just awakened, Babi and Step rode away, their lips faintly smeared with the foam of an unsweetened cappuccino and their mouths sweetened with the whipped cream of a pastry. It was easy to predict that their path had led them to the big Euclide on the Via Flaminia, farther away and more discreet, where it was less likely that they’d run into familiar faces. Then, minutes later, up the ramp and down to the right, in front of that tire repair place and then a sharp left at that green public drinking fountain, along that narrow street with the speed bumps, the cows on the right, and the bus stop on the left.

  They continued on toward the tower. Enveloped in sunshine all around them, meadows, tinged in faint green, stretched out gently rolling between the edges of darker woods. They left the road. The motorcycle moved along, bending the tall, golden stalks of wheat that stood up again immediately after its passage, unfazed and bold. All around a warm wind wafted gently over the field of wheat like the hand of a delicate pianist.

  The faint wake in the field of wheat slowly vanished behind them. The motorcycle was parked there, beyond the hill, a short way from the tower. Off to the right, farther down, a good-tempered dog was sleepily keeping an eye on several mangy-looking sheep. A shepherd in jeans was listening to a small beat-up radio while smoking a joint, light-years away from his comrades in the standard manger scene.

  They pushed on a little farther before stopping. Babi opened her bag and pulled out a large Union Jack. “I bought it at Portobello Market when I was in London. Help me stretch it out. Have you ever been?”

  Step gave her a hand. “No, never. Is it nice?”

  “Very. I had the time of my life. I spent a month in Brighton and several days in London. I went with EF. Education First.”

  They lay down on the flag and warmed up in the sunshine. Step listened to her account of London and a few other trips she’d taken. She seemed to have been to a bunch of places but he, largely uninterested in those past adventures and by no means used to that hour of the morning, quickly fell asleep.

  A bird sang loudly, and when Step opened his eyes, he barely managed to glimpse the last flutter of wings and the shadow veering away, flapping over distant stalks of tall wheat. The sun was higher now, and Babi was no longer beside him.

  He stood up, worried, and looked all around. Then he saw her. Farther down, on the hill. There she sat, among the wheat.

  As he walked over to her, he called her name but she seemed not to hear him. When he was close enough, he understood why. She was listening to her Sony Walkman.

  Babi turned to look at him. The look in her eyes promised nothing good. She went back to gazing into the distance at faraway fields. Step sat down next to her. He, too, sat for a while in silence.

  Then Babi couldn’t stand it anymore and took off her headphones. “Do you think that’s respectful, to fall asleep when I’m talking to you?” She was really angry now. “That’s a total lack of respect!”

  “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” Step smiled. “It’s really a total lack of sleep.”

  When she huffed in annoyance and turned away again, Step couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. Maybe even prettier when she was angry. She held her face high, and everything took on a special quality, chin, nose, forehead. Her hair, lit up in the sunlight, reflected its rays, golden, and seemed to exhale the fresh scent of the wheat. She had the beauty of an abandoned beach, he decided, with the wild sea fringing its distant edges. Like foaming waves, her hair framed her face.

  Below her hair, thin eyebrows, dark and determined, resembled the wings of a seagull, soaring confidently. Motionless in the wind, the bird looked down at those twin blue oceans of her eyes. Then those eyelashes, lighter at the tips. Her golden skin, that sweet velvet. Her pouting lips, caressed and dried by the wind.

  Step leaned toward her and gathered her soft beauty in his hand but Babi tried to elude his grasp. “Leave me alone!”

  “I can’t help it. It’s stronger than me. I have to kiss you.”

  “I said leave me alone. I’m offended by you.”

  Step smiled and leaned closer to her lips. “I swear that from now on, I’ll listen to it all. England, London, the trips you’ve taken, you name it.”

  “You should have listened earlier!”

  Step took advantage and kissed Babi fast, catching her unsuspecting lips, ever so slightly parted.

  But Babi was faster than him, and she clamped her mouth shut. Then there was a gentle struggle. In the end, she surrendered, slowly, and gave in to his kiss. “You’re violent, and you’re rude.”

  Words whispered between lips that were too close.

  “That’s true.” Words that were practically muddled together.

  “I don’t like it when you behave like that.”

  “I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

  “I’ve told you before that I don’t believe in your promises,” Babi said.

  “Well, then, I’ll swear it…”

  “Just see if I believe it when you swear to something…”

  “Okay, fine then, I’ll swear on you.”

  Babi punched him hard but he took the punch as a joke. Then he put his arms around her and plunged with her through the soft stalks of wheat. High above, bright sun and blue sky were silent spectators. Not far away, the forgotten Union Jack. Closer still, two smiles.

  For a little while, Step toyed with the buttons of her shirt. He stopped for a moment, fearful. He looked at her. Her closed eyes seemed calm and unruffled. He undid one button, then another, gently, as if even the lightest touch might be enough to shatter the magic of that moment.

  Then his hand slid inside, down her waist, and onto her tender warm flesh. He caress
ed her. Babi let him do it, kissing him, and wrapping her arms around him even tighter. Step inhaled her perfume and shut his eyes. For the first time, everything seemed different to him. He was in no hurry, perfectly relaxed, and he felt a strange sense of peace.

  His open palm slid down her back, along that soft hollow until it reached the hem of her skirt. A gentle slope, the beginning of a sweet, sweet promise. He stopped. Right then a slightly more impassioned kiss from her made him smile.

  Gently, he continued to caress her, moving up until he came to an ornate elastic strap. His fingers lingered on the snap. His touch wandered curiously as it tried to solve the mystery. Two hooks? Two tiny half-moon shapes that fit one inside the other? A metal S that’s inserted from above?

  He hesitated. She broke out of a kiss to eye him curiously. Step was starting to run out of patience. “How the fuck do you open this thing?”

  Babi shook her head. “Why is it you’re always such a potty mouth? I don’t want you to talk like that when you’re with me.”

  Just then, the mystery was solved. Two tiny half-moons separated while Step’s hand wandered all over her back, up to her neck, at last unhindered.

  He leaned down to kiss her. “Forgive me…”

  Step couldn’t believe his own ears. He’d asked her to forgive him. He, Step, had just apologized.

  Then, determined to stop thinking about it, he abandoned himself as if swept away by this new conquest. He found himself caressing her breasts, showering her neck with kisses, moving his hand to her other breast, and rediscovering there, too, that fragile hint of desire and passion.

  Then he slid slowly lower down, toward her smooth belly, the hem of her skirt. Her hand stopped him. Step opened his eyes. There Babi was, right in front of him, shaking her head.

  “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, that…” She smiled at him.

  “Why not?” He wasn’t smiling now, not at all.

  “Just because!”

  “But why not?”

  “Just because, period!”