Page 60 of Two Chances With You

“No. I tried to kiss you.”

“Seriously? I didn’t even notice it. You know, our friend must surely be up there looking down and laughing at us.”

“Maybe, at me.”

“He’s just mad at me because I wouldn’t go for it.”

Pallina bursts out laughing. But it’s a nervous laugh. She sniffs and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. She’s sort of laughing and still crying at the same time. “Forgive me, Step.”

“Oh, this again. But forgive you for what? Listen, if you keep this up, I’ll have to take you to bed.”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

She laughs again, less upset this time. I wave my index finger menacingly in her face. “I mean, put you to bed, to get some sleep. What did you even understand, eh?”

She smiles again. “No, I really am going to bed now, to get some sleep.”

And without another word, she heads for the door. She stops for a moment. “Please, Step, forget this ever happened, and call me.”

I smile at her, and I nod my head. Then I shut my eyes, and a moment later, Pallina is gone. I stand there like that, in silence, in the living room, and then I look around and see the bottle of rum. I was right. It’s a Havana Club. But only three years old. That Paolo. What a cheapskate.

I go out onto the terrace. I look down and just manage to get a glimpse of Pallina’s Fiat Cinquecento turning at the end of the street. I drain the last drop of the bottle without bothering to use the glass and stand there. Arms crossed, leaning on the parapet, with the bottle next to me but empty now.

“Fucking hell.” I have a rage inside me, and I don’t know who to take it out on. Fuck and double fuck. Why? Why? Why? Shit. There’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t even curse. No, that wouldn’t do a bit of good. But I don’t want to think about it. I’m really hurting.

I look down. There it is. Thanks. I’m happier now. I take the bottle by the neck, I summon up all my strength, and I hurl it straight down like a boomerang, perfect and fast. Let’s just hope I don’t see it come hurtling back at me. The bottle spins as it rockets down and boom, hits the windshield of the Renault Twingo dead center, disintegrating it. It was a brand-new, untouched Twingo. Black, I think, or maybe just dark. The epitome of everything I hate. A single shot. Like inThe Deer Hunter.

Chapter 20

Alight breeze wanders around through the cemetery, lost amid the tidy little structures of white and gray marble, with flowers that have just wilted and other flowers that have just been set out. Photographs and dates commemorate people. Loves of the past, lives shattered or else just naturally snipped short. In any case, over. Uprooted. Like the life of my friend. And sometimes all this happens without a reason why and then the pain is just so much worse.

I walk between the vaults. I have a bunch of flowers in one hand, the finest sunflowers I could find. In friendship, as in love, money is no object.

Here I am. I’ve arrived. “Ciao, Pollo.”

I look at that photo, the smile that kept me company so many times. That tiny image, small though his heart was vast and generous.

“I brought you these.” As if he couldn’t see me, as if he didn’t already know.

I bend over and pull the withered flowers out of the little vase. I wonder who brought them and when. Maybe it was Pallina herself. But then I toss the thought far away, exactly like the flowers I’ve just removed.

I arrange the big sunflowers as best I can. They still seem to quiver with the strength of those fields, healthy from the light of the sun. I arrange them carefully, spacing them carefully. They seem to make themselves comfortable, almost naturally. “There, there we go.”

I stand there for a while in silence, as if worried that he might have misunderstood me, that I might have thought some mistaken thought, not pure, the way our friendship always was. “But that’s not the way it is, Pollo, and you know it. It wasn’t that way for even a second.”

And then I practically take up in defense of Pallina. “You have to understand her. She’s a young girl, and she misses you. And you know, or maybe you don’t know, how important you were to her, what you meant to her, how you made her laugh, how happy you made her. And we can admit this to each other. How much you loved her.”

I look around, as if worried that someone might overhear those words spoken in confidence. Far, far away, there’s an old woman dressed in black. She’s praying. A little farther along, there’s a gardener trying to rake up a few yellowing leaves.

I focus back on my friend. And on Pallina. “She’s become a beautiful woman. It’s incredible the way they transform. You see them once, you run into them again, and it’s only taken a short while, a moment, and then there’s a completely different woman who’s taken their place.

“And I already know the question you would have asked me. No, I haven’t seen Babi, and I have no intention of doing it, okay? At least not now. I’m not ready.

“Instead, I wanted to tell you something about this girl, Gin. She’s a breath of fresh air. I swear to you, fuck, she’s cheerful and likable and intelligent. She’s really something. I can’t tell you any more than that because, because…I haven’t taken her to bed yet.”

Just then, the old woman walks past. She’s finished all her prayers. She smiles a strange smile. It’s not clear whether it’s a smile of camaraderie or just one of idle curiosity. The fact remains that she smiles and then moves away.

“Okay, Pollo, I’m going to go now too. I hope I’ll be able to tell you some stories soon about Gin, something good.”

---