Page 31 of Three Times You

No two ways about it, this evening, everyone seems to be worried about my happiness. Just then, my cell phone beeps. It’s a text message.

I open it. It’s from Gin.

My love, what are you doing? Don’t work too hard! Soon everything’s going to be even crazier. Come home…I want you.

I smile. I fold up the letter. I put it away in the photo album, which I hide in my bottom drawer.

Do you all want to know? Well, maybe I’ll tell you another day. This whole story just strikes me as a giant dramatic Hollywood potboiler, of which I’m unfortunately the unknowing protagonist. I wonder what’s going to happen. And to paraphrase Joe Black again,I’ll only find out by living.

Chapter 23

Good morning, everyone.”

I walk into the office with a positive attitude, a bundle of good cheer, neither of which is justified to tell the truth, but I’ve decided that the best way to confront this day is not to think about it. Then, we’ll see. Something will happen. The time will come when I’ll make a decision, or else, just maybe, everything has already been decided.

“Good morning. It’s a pleasure to see you like this.” Alice walks over and hands me some papers. “I’ve put down all your appointments for the day, and these are some letters that just came in.”

“That’s great. Thanks.” I head toward my office.

“Would you care for an espresso?”

I turn to look at her with a smile. “Yes, thanks, why not?”

And off she strolls. I have to say that she’s really quite attractive with barely any makeup, very interesting in her simplicity.

“Everything okay, boss?” Giorgio calls out a hello from his office.

“Everything’s okay.”

“No news? No new arrivals…?” As he asks the second question, he moves his left hand in midair, as if caressing a ball or perhaps miming a round belly.

“I shouldn’t have told you a thing. And I’m never going to tell you anything again, for fuck’s sake. I had to go and hire a comedian to work in my office?” And I shut my door.

There’s no present of any kind on my desk today. Well, that’s good. I don’t think I could have handled any other revelations. And there’s nothing strange in the morning’s mail either.

No. What’s this? A letter for Stefano Mancini. It’s not written on a typewriter or by computer, and it must have been hand-delivered because there’s no stamp on it or any other postmark. I study the handwriting more carefully, and I don’t think I recognize it. I pick up the switchblade knife I keep on my desk and use it as a paper knife. I open the envelope.

Dear Signore Stefano Mancini,

My name is Simone Civinini. I’m a young man, just 23, and I’d really like to do the work that you do. Since you haven’t been working in this field for long but you started from the bottom, I’m sure that you’ll recognize in my words two fundamental things: ambition and enthusiasm.

I’d very much like to meet with you. I’m enclosing a project of mine and leaving you my phone number and email address. If it can be of any interest to you, I’m available to do any small jobs you might have for me, any routine tasks. But if you think it might be appropriate someday, I’d very much like to work as a TV writer for you.

When I said that you started from the bottom, I wasn’t trying to curry favor. I’ve been following your career ever since you had all those problems at TdV, I know your whole history. So I’d be happy to meet you in person. In any case, let me thank you for reading this far.

At the bottom of the letter, I see his phone number and email address. I look at his street address. He’s from Civitavecchia, but he must spend time in Rome too or else he might just be here on a business trip. Or I guess he could be staying with someone, given that he delivered this letter by hand.

The enclosed project is titledWho Loves Who. It’s an amusing title, if nothing else, definitely not run-of-the-mill. I start reading. The program is a fifty-minute format. The game proceeds in a succession of separate blocks that are very easy to follow. It’s well written, simple, and direct, without a lot of flourishes and complications. So I go on reading. The idea involves six men and seven women, or else seven men and six women, who each tell the story of a moment from their lives, something that happened with their boyfriend or girlfriend or else their partner or spouse. The way they met, their first date, their first kiss, the first time they made love, where it was or the strangest story about it.

Each contestant has to sort all the other eleven contestants into the correct couples on the basis of the stories told by all the others. If they guess all the couples, then that means they’ve also identified the extra contestant. At this point, they only have a minute’s time. There’s no storytelling left. They just have to be incredibly lucky because they have to choose among a few people singled out in the audience which of them is the love interest or partner of that extra thirteenth contestant. If they’re able to guess that person as well, then it’s a full sweep and they win it all.

When I’m done reading the letter, I’m really satisfied. It’s incredible that this twenty-three-year-old writer has invented a format that could be a real game-changer, and not just for the Italian market, but for the whole foreign market as well. So I leave my office and go to see Giorgio.

“Look at this.” I set it down on his desk. Just then, Alice arrives in silence but with her usual lovely smile, bringing us a couple of espressos.

“Thanks.”

She leaves us alone. Giorgio takes the letter in his hand.

---