Page 57 of Two Chances With You

She bursts out laughing. “No, no, really, nothing for me.”

Her laugh hasn’t changed a bit. She seems healthy, well rested, and relaxed. If only Pollo could see her now. He would be proud. From the stories I’ve heard, he was your first man, Pallina. And Pollo never lied to me. He didn’t have any reason to. He never needed to exaggerate to make himself look good, to make himself look cool, not to me, his true friend.

Now here she is, in front of me. Pallina is walking tall, confidently. Then, all of a sudden, Pallina changes expression. “Aren’t you going to show me the bedroom?”

Suddenly different. Sensual and mischievous. A pang in my heart. Does she have another man? What happened after Pollo? It’s been nearly two years, sure, but still, I don’t want to hear it. She’s a young woman, appealing, attractive…I understand that but I don’t care. I just don’t want to think about it.

“Here, this is one of them.” I open a door after tapping lightly. “Can we come in?”

Paolo had been taking his shirt off, but he quickly regains his composure and comes to the door. “Of course. Well, hello, Pallina!”

“Here he is, the decorator responsible for everything you’ve just seen.”

“Ciao.”

They shake hands. Pallina smiles with a hint of embarrassment. “Congratulations, it’s beautiful, what exquisite taste. I thought a woman had chosen everything.”

Paolo starts to reply, but I don’t give him time. I quietly shut the door, cutting him out of our house tour.

“Hey, but I meantyourbedroom.” She gives me a flat-handed smack on the shoulder, shoving me forward.

“Oh, there was a misunderstanding then. Here, this is it.” I open the door to my room.

“Hey, not bad.” Pallina enters and looks around. “A little spartan, perhaps. It needs color.”

I realize that the Polaroid of Gin is standing on my bedside table. Without letting her see, I cover it up.

“Well, it has its charm just as it is though. And after all, there’s plenty of time to add color,” I say.

She looks at me, her curiosity obviously aroused, but at that exact moment, the telephone rings. Pallina pulls hers out of her jacket pocket, looks at it, and then holds it up to her ear. “Hey, it’s not my phone.”

I pick up my cell phone from the table nearby. “You’re right. It’s mine!”

I don’t recognize the caller’s number. “Hello?”

“Welcome back.”

I can feel myself blush as I listen to her voice.

“I hope we can see each other, now that you’re back in Rome.”

“Sure.”

“Do you like your new place to live?”

“Sure.”

“Did you have a good time overseas?”

“Sure.”

I nod. Then I listen to the other things she has to say, always kind, courteous, and full of a delicate love, careful not to shatter that fragile crystal, our past, our secret. I go on answering. I even manage to get out something more than my simple succession ofsures.

“So how areyoudoing?” But she goes on talking.

Pallina looks at me but says nothing. She moves her head while silently asking who that is. But I don’t give her a chance to ask because I turn away toward the window. I look out, into the distance, while chasing after her voice.

“Yes, it’s a promise I’ll call you back. I’ll come and see you, yes…”

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