Page 51 of Three Times You

She steps up and kisses me on the cheek. I shut my eyes. Even her perfume, so delicate and fresh, has nothing to do with everything else that surrounds me. Or am I alone in seeing things this way? All I manage to ask is “What are you doing here?”

Babi laughs and shakes her head. “This time I had nothing to do with it! I swear! It’s not my fault that you’re here, I didn’t send an invitation to you. It’s just pure chance that we’ve run into each other.”

“Yes, I believe you…”

She heaves a sigh of relief. “Well…”And she points at the oversizedFlogo of the channel, projected on the walls, engraved on all the glasses, even adorning the sides of the VIP boxing ring. “Do you like how it turned out? I did it. I was invited as graphic designer.”

“Yes, it’s very original. Nice work.”

“Thanks.”

Then we fall silent in that deafening wall of music. But at last, Babi gives in and asks the question she’s probably been saving since the beginning. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.” And I’m tempted to say more, but for some reason unclear to me that’s all that comes out. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I find myself adding, “What about you?”

“Yes, so am I.”

“Okay.”

She looks at me with a smile. “Well, maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Yes…”We stand there for a few more seconds. Then I smile at her and walk away. But then I can’t help it. I turn around and watch her climb up into the VIP area. Then I slip intentionally away into the crowd. I must have nothing left to do with her. There was nothing between us that night. Still, I know that’s not how it was for me.

I continue walking through the crowd. Now the music seems louder. I want to lose myself, vanish, annihilate my own existence. Why am I here? I pull a note out of my pocket.Come, I’m eager to see you. Pietro Forti. Marketing Director. P.S. I’m at the Temple.I look around and spot a broad staircase that follows a curve and then vanishes upward into the shadows, in a large ancient edifice. It looks like a strange blend between the Parthenon and a Roman temple, with a hint of Buddhist architecture here and there. I start to climb the steps when I see him walking toward me.

“Ah, here you are at last. How are you, Stefano?” Pietro leans closer. “Can I introduce you to our CEO Arturo Franchini, the sales director Sonia Rodati, and our head creative, Flavia Baldi?”

I shake hands all around, and I smile, but in the buzz of conversation and the relentless pounding music, I manage to hear only a few snatches of names and the importance of their titles, despite the way Pietro Forti emphasized them. They offer me a drink, they tell me how much they liked the “game” of the families on vacation, which they absolutely want to buy. They want to do lots of other projects with us and say that Futura is a company that works well, which is exactly what they need. I nod.

When I finish drinking the champagne, the young woman at our table smiles at me and refills my glass. I thank her, and then I lean closer to them to make myself heard. “I’m so glad to hear all this, and I’m sure that we’ll work successfully together. I’ll come see you all soon.” That seems to reassure them so I stand up, walk to the edge of this strange, elevated temple, lean against the railing, and nod my head in time to the music, but actually I hear nothing.

I look down. The people are dancing, moving, flailing. Some of them seem to be dancing in slow motion, others are moving too fast. Still others seem to be completely out of step.

Then I see Babi. She’s sitting on a leather sofa, talking to a young woman. They’re not laughing. If anything, they seem to be chatting about work. Babi nods in agreement about something as the young woman moves her hands. She must be explaining something.

Then a young man arrives, stops in front of them, and stands there, talking for a while with Babi. I see her smile, and he hands her a slip of paper. She takes it and reads it. He gestures to ask if he can sit down next to her, and Babi nods and makes room. The young man sits down and smiles at her. He’s courteous, his hair long, his shoulders broad. He must be an attractive guy.

The other young woman appears to excuse herself, stands up, and leaves them alone. They say goodbye. Then the young man summons a waiter. After the waiter leaves with their drink order, the young man leans close and whispers something into her ear.

Babi seems surprised. First she was smiling, and now she’s turned serious.

At this point, I don’t wait for her response. I hurry down the stairs. I push people aside and slalom through the crowd, trying not to slam into any of the dancers. I can’t even say whether or not I’m successful. I no longer hear anything, feel anything, neither pain nor anything else. All I know is that I have to hurry to her side.

And in a flash, I’m at the foot of the staircase leading up to the ring. The bouncer, seeing me arrive at a dead run, braces for impact. When I reach the top of the stairs, he steps forward and blocks my path, trying to stop me. I say nothing. He looks me in the eye, shakes his head, and says, “Excuse me?”

I smile and throw my arms wide. Luckily, just then he spots the light blue bracelet they gave me at the front door. “Ah, forgive me.” And he lets me through. I look around among all the sofas until I spot her. The guy is still talking into her ear, close, far too close, and every so often he smiles at her and almost seems to lean in toward her mouth, and she lets him do it. She listens and nods. I can’t help it. I see red. I stride over to Babi, and I take her by the hand. “We have a problem. I need you to come with me. Please excuse us.”

I don’t even get a chance to hear the guy’s answer. I take her away with me. I drag her down the staircase, into the dancing mob, surrounded by new arrivals, through flows of people pushing in the opposite direction, bumping into us but then letting us past. And we seem to be the only ones moving against the stream, avoiding people, stepping to the left and the right, and so on, without stopping, toward the exit.

When we’re outside of the sound stage, I see a dark corner. I head straight for it, and only once I’ve reached it, do I stop. There. Standing facing each other, we recover from our hasty escape. She’s panting, and her eyes are intense. I’m looking at her in silence, and I realize that it’s as if not a second had passed since the last time we saw each other.

Then Babi smiles at me. “I was hoping you were looking at me. And I dreamed of you carrying me off, away from here.”

And so I kiss her, unashamedly, thoughtlessly, rebellious master of my own life. We go on kissing like that, just like a couple of youngsters who’ve just slammed the door shut right in the world’s face, two young people who just want to be left alone on their own, who’ve been waiting for this moment all their lives, because people in love don’t know fear.

And her kiss is unlike any other. It’s love, it’s a never-ending story, it’s all my tears and all my sorrow, it’s my happiness and my life, it’s damnation and desire, it’s a death sentence and it’s unconditional freedom. It’s everything I want, it’s everything I can’t go on living without.

Chapter 42

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