Page 61 of Two Chances With You

Not far away a new guest of the cemetery has appeared. A few people get out of their cars in silence. Eyes glistening, fresh flowers, last memories. Words spoken in hushed voices, trying to figure out exactly what to do now. All of it mingled with sorrow and pain.

Then I bend down one last time. I carefully adjust the biggest sunflower. I give it a little more space and a chance to keep my best, my closest, friend company. I’m reminded of something that Walter Winchell once said: “A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.” And you, Pollo, you’re still there inside of me.

Chapter 21

So what did you get up to?” I ask Ele.

Silence.

I roll my eyes. She’s just incorrigible. “Okay, so are you going to tell the story, or not?”

“Well, you know what he did? He invited me over to his house for dinner.”

“Who did?”

“Marcantonio, the graphic artist.”

“Step’s friend!”

“Marcantonio is Marcantonio, and that’s all. And you can’t imagine how sweet he was, all the work he did, how he made me a wonderful dinner.”

***

Marcantonio smiles at me. Like someone who knows more than he’s telling. Or better, someone who knows it by heart with all the times he’s put it into practice.

“All right, Step. For starters, I went downstairs to Da Paolo, the Japanese restaurant on Via Cavour, and I picked up some food. Tempura, sushi, sashimi, passion fruit. Delightful stuff, with a high erotic content. I brought it all upstairs, I heated the tempura back up, and et voilà, dinner was ready. I set the table with the classic Japanese chopsticks, plus a fork just in case she wasn’t used to eating Asian-style…”

“Did you also go by the Moroccan at the stoplight and pick up the usual five-euro bouquet of flowers?”

“Well, certainly, those are ideal, minimum expense for a centerpiece!”

***

Ele seems to be enthusiastic about the evening’s entertainment.

“Well, so go on. He’d set the table thoughtfully, he chose everything with impeccable taste…”

“Are you ready? Fundamental question: Were there flowers?”

“Certainly! Tiny, beautiful roses. He even played off my surname…”

We both burst out laughing. Then I turn serious again. “Ele, now tell me the truth.”

Ele rolls her eyes.

“There, I knew it. So long and we’ll talk again next week.”

“No, okay, all right, I’ll talk, I’ll talk.”

I look at her with concern. “What have you done?”

“Okay…I gave him a blow job!”

“No, Ele, that’s just not done. On a first date! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“What are you talking about? Benedetta, the one you thought was such a saint, remember, Paoletti? She was caught at the Piper Club in the bathroom kneeling in blessed oral adoration with a certain Max that she’d met on the dance floor. Time she’d known him? Half a song by Will Young, the cover of the Doors’ ‘Light My Fire.’ After which, sure enough, she was seized indeed by a strange fire. She sang into his microphone, and she was even caught in the act.

“And what about Paola Mazzocchi? You know that they caught her at school in the bathroom with the phys ed teacher, Mariotti? Hah, and don’t you know it, after just a week of school. The worshipper of Sicilian cannolis! You remember that that nickname made the rounds of the whole school. And you know why? Because Mariotti might have dyed blond hair, but he’s from Catania.”

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