by Edoardo Nesi
Nothing will work anymore, and he will need her at times and in ways and circumstances in which he had never needed her before, when there was no doubt that she would always be there for him. He will find himself wondering at the hidden meaning of every word she says from now on: every question, every expression and pause, every sign of uncertainty and reluctance, every smile and sigh will become infinitely more significant than before, and he will begin to interpret them as if they were messages from another world, and when he will not hear from her for a few days, life will become very difficult, because he loves her and he is totally unable to react to this situation, and always will be.
— No, I’m not angry, he says in a voice just that bit too high, because I don’t believe you. It’s…it’s not possible. If it were true I’d be angry, of course. You are too important to me. But it’s not true. I know it’s not true.
The silver Alfetta stops in front of her house, and in a sudden moment of clarity Cesare realizes that their future largely depends on how they leave things tonight, the words they say, and so he summons up all of his strength and manages a smile that looks a little like one of his own, but it immediately crashes against the new expression he sees upon her face: a mix of surprise, uncertainty, fear, and yes, unfortunately, satisfaction.
— Come on, it’s not true. I don’t believe it.
And then again, hating himself while he says it, yet feeling entirely incapable of stopping himself, “Tell me it’s not true.”
The Historic Baby Doll looks at him for a moment, opens the door, gets out of the car, and puts her face into the frame of the lowered window.
— I’m sorry, Cesare, but I don’t understand you. I really don’t. Good night.
Cesare nods and barely manages to whisper a goodbye. He starts off slowly, looking at her in the mirror as she becomes smaller and smaller before disappearing altogether.
NEW YORK CITY
— HELLO?
— Mom?
— Who’s speaking, please? Who is calling at this time of night? Who is it? You’re scaring me, who is it?
— Mom, it’s me…
— Ivo! Where are you? Your voice sounds so far away…
— Mom, I’m in America!
— In America! Have you already arrived? Are you well?
— Yes, Mom, everything is fine.
— How was the journey?
— Well, I’m a bit tired…With such an early start and all the flights, I’ve been traveling for nearly a whole day.
— My goodness, all that time on an airplane! What did you eat?
— I’ll tell you, Mom, I always like the food on the plane.
— Ardengo, pick up the telephone! Ivo, are you at the hotel?
— Yes, Mom. I’m at the hotel. On the thirty-fifth floor.
— Ardengo, Ivo is calling from America! What time is it there? Here it’s midnight.
— It’s six o’clock here, Mom.
— In the morning?
— No, Mom. In the evening. Pass me Dad.
— Ardengo!
— Mom, please, don’t shout!
— He won’t come otherwise. He’s gone half deaf. He’s down in the basement, watching television. Ardengo! Ivo, listen, how can it be six there if it’s midnight here?
— It’s the time difference.
— Yes, I know. Your father told me. But I don’t understand. I don’t think he does either. What is this time difference, Ivo? How can it be?
— Mom, the Earth moves around the sun, and as it turns, in some parts of the Earth it’s day and in other parts it’s night, and so it can’t be the same time for both us, because I’m on the other side of the world, you see?
— Hmm…Well, now that you’ve arrived in America, you can come back here. Your room has been cleaned and dusted. I’ve ironed all your shirts and picked up your trench coat from the dry cleaners. What are you doing there? Come home, understand? Otherwise I worry.
— Mom, don’t worry. I’m fine.
— Hello, Ivo. I was in the basement. Please excuse the heavy breathing, I ran.
— Hi Dad…
— Ivo…
— Dad…
— Tell me, Ivo…
— Oh, Dad…
— Yes…
— Dad, this city…this city is incredible…
— Really? Tell me about it.
— You would not believe it. The skyscrapers…
— What are they like?
— They’re…infinite, Dad. I don’t know if I can even describe them…But just think that today it was foggy and the tips of the skyscrapers were lost in the clouds…And the streets, Dad, the avenues that run through Manhattan…If only you could see how beautiful they are…They’re enormous, Dad, wider than our highways…
— My goodness, Ivo…
— Next time you have to come with me.
— Yes, I owe America a lot! And you too! We all do!
— I know, Dad. I know…
— They freed us from Fascism and poverty!
— I know, Dad!
— When they passed through Narnali with their tanks and trucks, they would throw us chocolate and candies!
—…
— Ivo…
—…
— Ivo…are you crying?
—…
— Just look at this fool. He’s in New York City and he’s crying!
— It’s so…overwhelming, Dad. It’s truly overwhelming…
— Go on, Ivo, it’s fine.
— It’s such a great moment for me…Being here for the first time, Dad, and on business, not as a tourist…I only hope I’m up to the challenge. I really hope I’m as great as you and Mom, and all of you…I wanted to tell you that…
— Stop it, you fool, or you’ll have me crying too. Tell me about Fifth Avenue!
— Yes, Dad. Fifth Avenue is beautiful, but I have to say I was more impressed by Sixth. They call it Avenue of the Americas! All the skyscrapers are full of offices, and there are so many people working in them! So many people from every possible race and color…And, I’ve even seen Radio City Music Hall!
— My God, Ivo, you’re making me jealous!
— If you could only see how badly they dress, all of them!
— I knew it! Americans always dress badly!
— It’s like they couldn’t care less. I’m sure some of them dress badly on purpose!
— And Broadway, have you seen Broadway?
— Yes, yes, I was about to tell you! So, Dad, Broadway is a diagonal street, sorry, a diagonal avenue, it cuts through all the others, which are straight. I’ve even been to Times Square!
— Broadway! My son is on Broadway!
— Oh Dad, if you could see how spectacular it is!
— Hey, behave yourself, it’s full of prostitutes there!
— Prostitutes, Dad? Who cares about prostitutes! Who has ever gone with one, anyway? Park Avenue is fantastic, too, perhaps the most beautiful…It’s all residential, and also the widest because traffic moves in both directions, and instead of guardrails they have long flower beds, and inside the flower beds there are sculptures by great artists, even Pablo Picasso! But if you could see these apartment blocks, Dad! Outside there are doormen in uniforms with braids, and limousines as long as boats, with their motors always running, waiting for the ladies or the gentlemen…But out on Park Avenue people are very elegant, Dad. Ladies in furs, dogs with dresses, and all the governesses pushing children in carriages and strollers…
— It’s like you’re showing me a photograph, Ivo! It’s like I’m there!
— But Dad, listen to what happened to me. I walked the whole length of Park Avenue, it goes on for miles, and at one point I noticed that there weren’t any more limousines, and that the people weren’t as elegant, the opposite actually, and the apartment blocks were ugly and low, badly kept, and I started to see so many black people, all standing around in groups on street corners, and they were giving me strange looks. Dad. I’
d ended up in Harlem!
— In Harlem? Ivo, are you mad?
— Yes, in Harlem, in the midst of total poverty, and I was very sad to see all those men without a job, and I thought that a textile mill there could solve all their problems…I’m sure they would be happier making textiles than selling white powder in the middle of the street. Anyway Dad, you really need to come here, and with Mom, too!
— Hmm, she doesn’t travel well…She’s scared of airplanes, you know that. Her feet swell.
— It’s not true! Ivo, don’t listen to him! My feet do not swell up in the airplane!
— Quiet, Fosca! Eavesdropping, are you?
— I don’t eavesdrop! I answered the call from my son and I stayed on the line! I want to hear about Ivo in America too! He’s my son as well! And you’re wrong, Ardengo, it only happened once, that swelling, when I went on honeymoon to the Canary Islands!
— Ivo!
— Yes, Dad.
— But how have you managed to see all these things already, if you only left the house this morning?
— Well, the highway was full of trucks so I barely made it to the airport in Milan to catch the flight to London. And even in London I was very lucky to get to the plane at the last second, and I arrived at JFK in the early hours of the morning. I went straight to the hotel, took a shower, and since it’s Sunday and I don’t have anything to do until tomorrow morning, I pulled on a pair of comfortable shoes and set off to explore the city!
— Ivo, I don’t understand. You arrived there in the morning?
— Yes, nine a.m.
— Nine a.m.? That’s impossible! The flight takes eight hours…
— I flew on the Concorde.
— Concorde?
— Yes, Dad! It’s fantastic, like traveling in time!
— Are you mad? How much did that cost?
— Eight million lire.
— Just for the flight?
—Yes. A round-trip flight, obviously.
— And did you go first class?
— Concorde is all first class.
— Why did you spend all that money, you fool?
— I wanted to make the right impression when I got to America, Dad.
— What? I don’t understand. Who? Who did you see?
— I did it for myself. I wanted to start on the right foot. It’s a question of personal pride, Dad. And without pride I can’t work. I know I could have taken an Alitalia 707, in economy. I would have had a tiny seat at the back of the plane next to the toilet, thrown in with all the tourists — it would have cost me less than a million lire — but I’d have arrived in New York exhausted and depressed. No enthusiasm, no nothing…
— Ivo, I don’t understand you…
— Dad, the clients need to be shown a movie. You have to arrive in their offices looking like a million dollars, with your hair perfectly in place, fresh from the shower, smelling of cologne, super elegant, and you have to make it clear from the beginning that we Italians are the best in the world at making textiles, and no one else even comes close. And that we don’t only produce fabrics, we create fashion, we are fashion, we’re the real designers — otherwise they won’t buy anything from you…Dad, you have to go to the clients with a boner, like you say, and if you’ve flown second class and you’ve slept in a little hotel room, you have no boner, and there’s no movie to show, and you don’t sell a damn thing, you see?
— But you’ve spent a fortune, Ivo, for Christ’s sake! Which hotel are you staying in?
— I’m at the Hilton! On the Avenue of the Americas! I’m on the thirty-fifth floor, and from the window I can see the whole city right down to the new Twin Towers! I know I’m spending a lot of money, but these are business expenses, the company pays for it all, and at the end of the day I don’t need to justify it to anyone, especially since this is all hard-earned money…
— I know, I know Ivo. That I know…
— I’m like you! Honest to the core! And I just wanted to give myself this much. I wanted to see if I could do it, see if I could have this victory…
— It’s a very costly one though.
— But I’m not doing this for the money! I’m not interested in money. I’m doing it for me, Dad. I understood that today, while I was on the Concorde. It’s all or nothing.
— Hmm…
— And I’ll tell you, I enjoy spending my money. I might be a fool but it’s the right thing to do. If you’ve got it, you should spend it, otherwise the wheels don’t turn. The day I start saving is the day everything will be over.
— Listen, Ivo, talking about spending money, today I went to your building site! You know it’s Melchiorre’s field?
— Melchiorre? Who’s Melchiorre? How was the building site?
— Well, I just saw a few plastic cables…Citarella was there with his hands in his pockets, looking really sorry for himself. He’s good, that guy. Vezzosi was nowhere to be seen.
— Ah…
— Anyhow, there’s no rush to get into the new building, Ivo. Don’t you worry. You’re fine at the blanket factory, and you don’t have to pay rent. You just have to think about selling…
— Dad, I’ve spent the last month going around the world selling.
— I know, I know…Who would have thought that my son would become such a hard worker?
— Please, Dad, could you go and check on the building site now and then?
— I don’t want to overstep the mark…
— No, go, please go and check up on it. Put your foot down. You be the boss.
— Okay. Listen, when are you going to see your clients?
—Tomorrow. My first appointment is at eight a.m. They’re all in the same area. Then I’m going to Montreal, in Canada.
— Bravo!
— I’m always on the offensive Dad, and even if I don’t sell anything this time, I’ll sell next time! It’s not a problem. This city is full of excitement, of ferment, of expansion…It’s another world, really…Okay, Dad, now I have to say goodbye to you and Mom. But I want to thank you for everything.
— For what?
— For everything, Dad. For everything. For my whole life. Thank you.
— Ivo, it’s your turn now!
— Ivo, come back soon! We’ll be waiting for you!
— Okay, Mom. Bye everyone. And good night. Sorry about calling so late, Dad, but I wanted to tell you all about it.
— Not a problem, son. Good night!
— Ardengo, you need to wish him good evening, not good night! It’s late afternoon there! There’s a time difference!
— Okay, Fosca, I know…This woman is getting worse every day.
— If you don’t know something, I’ll tell you. Good evening, Ivo. And send us a postcard with the Statue of Liberty!
— Of course, Mom.
— Ah, Ivo, make sure you go to the Empire State Building! Right to the top! And then tell me what it’s like! It’s always been a dream of mine!
— Yes, Dad, I’ll go and then I’ll call you!
— Bye then, Ivo, bye!
HE COMPLETELY LOSES HIS HEAD
HE COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT HER.
Her cheerfully calling the Other to plan their evening together, then asking the girls in the beauty salon to blow-dry her hair and fix it with hairspray before running home, chased by their compliments, to carefully choose her lipstick and try on shirts and tops and skirts and dresses until she finds the right ones.
Her smiling in the mirror and spraying onto her neck little bursts of Shalimar, the perfume that he — poor idiot — had given her, that heavenly perfume he liked so much, the one that smelled of the plastic dolls are made from.
Her leaving the house and greeting the Other with a chirruping “Hi” and a kiss, and getting into his car and spending the trip to the restaurant looking at him as if bewitched, then sitting at the table and flirting and blushing more and more with each glass of red wine and each compliment, and after coffee she wants to make lov
e, and she tells him, and when they leave the restaurant, she pretends to be a little more tipsy than she really is, and lets him take her by the hand and open the door for her and kiss her, and at that point Cesare’s imagination mercifully came to a halt and refused to go any further.
It was like being stabbed repeatedly, as his thoughts gave him no respite. They only stopped at sunrise, when he would fall asleep for a few hours, and then they would immediately resume upon waking. He could not understand how this had happened. When, and why, and where was he at the moment the Historic Baby Doll decided to open herself up to another. He couldn’t believe that she needed more sex — not after all those afternoons they had spent making love with an intensity that each time left them exhausted, soaked with sweat, legs trembling: her lying there with her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath; him listening to the wild beat of his heart, watching the ceiling, infinitely proud to discover himself a great lover.
So what had happened? What could she possibly be missing?
As is always the case with winners, Vezzosi did not know how to lose or deal with the consequences of a loss, and so he spent his days fumbling about, lurching between wild mood swings.
Half the time he was apathetic and full of angst, while the rest of the time he became the Beast, spouting expletives for the smallest of reasons, punching the dashboard of his Alfetta, kicking his office door, revving the motor like a madman every time he got in his car, and if someone dared to look at him the wrong way, he would immediately invite them to pull up and get out of their car.
Defenseless and dazed, furious and weak, Cesare only managed to get to the building site once, with Citarella, to lay the fixed cables that had been cleared away by the blast, but upon seeing the mess in that field he lost heart. The task of building such a big and beautiful factory on that bombed-out field seemed impossible, the fruit of the unbridled ambition of an impetuous young man who, sooner or later, would pull out and leave him to deal with it all. He told Pasquale he wasn’t feeling well and that he would call him.
