Page 103 of Two Chances With You

One last farewell. “Ciao. Well, see you around.” With her backpack on her shoulder and her duffel bag in her hand, Gin goes through the front door. I see her leave like that, without being allowed to lend a hand. She refused to let me.

“I don’t want to be helped and most of all, I hate long goodbyes. Now get out of here!”

Gin is too cool. I get back in the taxi, and I give the driver my address. He nods his head. He knows that one too.

In a moment, my mind is filled with so many different moments of our trip. It’s like a scrapbook flipped through quickly. So I choose the nicest pictures. The timeless chats, the timeless love, the timeless reawakenings. And now? I’m worried, and it’s not just jet lag. Leaving her at her house after a trip is like setting back out on another trip, but without knowing where I’m going and especially not knowing with whom. I’m traveling alone now. And I miss Gin already.

“We’re here, sir.”

Luckily, I have the cabbie to bring me back in touch with reality. I get out. I don’t wait for the change, I get my things, and I go inside.

“Is anybody home?” Silence. So much the better. I need to return, quietly, on tiptoe, without too much noise or upset, without too many questions, to my ordinary, everyday life. I unpack my bag, I put my dirty laundry in the hamper in the bathroom, and I take a shower. I can’t feel the impact of the jet lag but luckily, I do hear my cell phone. I get out of the shower. I grab it just in time. I dry off for a minute before picking up the phone. It’s Gin.

“Hey, I just turned my phone on a second ago before getting in the shower. I knew you couldn’t resist.”

“Just think that I’d called you to see how you were holding up. You’re not banging your head against the wall, are you? Are you like a junkie going through withdrawal…from love?”

“Me?”

“Start thinking about what you’re going to say to my folks, you’ll have to come meet them in the next few days.”

“What?”

“Well, sinceithasn’t shown up, it would be better for you to swing by, right?”

“What?”

“Time is up, andithasn’t given a sign of arriving, that means I’m pregnant! Get ready to ask me to marry you, apologize to my parents, and all the rest of it.”

“But I thought all I was going to have to do was pick the name.”

“Why, certainly. The easiest part! No, don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. You just worry about all the rest. Do you know what my mother always likes to say? ‘So you wanted the bicycle? Well, now pedal!’”

“If it’s a girl, we could call her Bicycle. She’d certainly be a very athletic young woman, and then I don’t know what else, maybe in honor of your mother.”

“That’s a relief. I thought you’d slipped into a state of depression. Instead you’re still capable of coming out with idiotic jokes.”

“Yes, but they’re the last ones. You know that when it comes time to be a father, I’ll be much more serious.”

“I miss you…”

We go on talking without really even knowing what we’re talking about, much less why. Then we decide to end the call, promising to talk again tomorrow. It’s a pointless promise because we would have done it anyway.

When you’re wasting time on the telephone; when the minutes hurry past without you even noticing; when the words don’t even make sense; when you realize that, if anyone else was listening in, they’d think you were crazy; when neither of the two of you wants to hang up; when you check, after she’s hung up, to make sure she really has; then you’re really in trouble.

Or maybe I should say, then you’re really in love.

Chapter 41

The following days in Rome slowly go back to normal. The hours return to their proper stations. It turns cold again. Everyone is holed up in their own home. The sea withdraws to a respectable distance. As does our memory of it. All that we’re left with now are the photos of that magnificent journey. They wind up in some drawer somewhere, and before long, they too have been forgotten.

Romani seemed happy to see us, and even happier to see us accept his employment contract again. Paolo and Fabiola seem to be getting along. Paolo has abandoned the idea of becoming an agent and gone back to being an accountant. According to the stories Paolo tells, my father and his girlfriend are cooing and lovey-dovey all the time. Concerning Mamma’s current dating record, on the other hand, Paolo knows nothing. Or at least, he tells me nothing. But he is worried about her state of health. He’s seen her undergo a number of exams at the hospital. Here, too, however, Paolo knows nothing for certain. Or perhaps in this case, too, he prefers to keep a tight lid on it. I read the book that Mamma gave me, a story similar to ours, but with a happy ending. But after all, that’s a story.

***

In the gym, I say hello to several people. Then I start working out.

“Hey, welcome back.” It’s Guido Balestri, skinny and smiling as usual. With a crimson tracksuit, a designer brand like everything else he wears. That, too, the same as always.

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