CRAVING U (The Rook Café) (39 page)

“Maybe it is
easy,” Marika continued, knowing that her silence would be interpreted as a
victory for Eve, “but I don’t think it’s only the poor girls who sell
themselves.”  Her reference to the filth that often covered the money of the
rich was obvious.  “Perhaps the opposite is true.”  Because as Shakespeare
teaches in King Lear,
“
Through tattered clothes
small vices do appear, robes and furred gowns hide all
.”

Her social critique was followed by a dry,
theatrical thundering noise from outside, but the May sky was cloudless and the
only stormy weather was right there in the loft.  “It’s fun arguing with you.” 
Eve got up to get something to drink.  “You know what you believe in, I like
that!”

Marika felt as though she no longer
understood anything as she listened to the continuous pounding made by workers
putting up scaffolding around a nearby building.  Even though, in a certain
sense, she was getting used to being constantly bested by Eve.  That’s how it
was with her, a constant battle of nerves.  Everything was black or white;
either you were with her, or against her; no room for compromise or for “I’m
just kidding,” and every single comment ended up with the two of them against
the ropes, degenerating into a war over meanings and intentions.

“Move your ass, hot stuff!”  The volatile
Lolita wanted Marika to follow her, as if nothing had happened, using words
that unmistakably identified her as a friend.

And just like that, the tension between
them vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of rancor or embarrassment. 
Because getting to know each other inevitably means clashing occasionally so as
to find your middle ground, where each one’s personal freedom ended and the
other’s began.

In the end, the only person who felt left
out was Federico, who suffered from his lack of a second X-chromosome, that
small piece of genetic material that perhaps explained their entire way of
acting.  “How much longer is it going to take for you to get ready?  It’s just
a dusty old attic with four instruments and two microphones,” he pointed out as
they were putting on some final touches of makeup.  “We
are
going to
rehearsal, aren’t we?”

“Wrong, lover boy.”  Eve stopped him in
his tracks.  “I’ve got a guest, or didn’t you notice?”  She pointed towards
Marika, who responded by waving the hair-straightener at him.  “I’m taking her
into town to see and be seen.”

“Where are you taking her?”  Federico followed
Eve around the house.  “Marika already agreed to come with us to Denis’ house....” 
Marika dutifully nodded.

Eve pretended not to have heard a thing,
hitting her eyes one last time with the black eyeliner.

“We have to finish arranging our playlist
for the contest.”  The annual Jammin’ Festival Contest, a musical competition
for promising young bands without a major record label, was choosing groups
that would be given the chance to open for the big stars of the Festival on
center stage.

“Fede, please.  Pull up a chair, sit back,
and relax!  We’ve already uploaded the tracks to the Festival site, and there’s
plenty of time for everything else.” They had already prepared a thirty-minute
live playlist as their sample for the competition, but they still had to finish
the sound production on the last new single that they were going to use as
their showcase for the festival.  “Did you hear that the local stations have
picked up our last song?”

“Yeah,” Federico said softly, as if he was
afraid to voice his dreams too loudly and jinx them.  “They actually did as
they promised.”  A local internet radio station had organized a series of live
competitions as a way to promote business contacts and contracts with local
recording studios, labels, music stores, newspapers, radio stations, magazines,
and clubs as a way to get the word out about local talent through airplay,
reviews, productions, articles, and discounts for renting space for live shows.

“Hey, Jenkins!”  After heading downstairs
and just before separating himself from the girls, Federico called Eve by her
mother’s last name.  Even though Jenkins was not her legal name, not the one
she had been born with, it was the name she preferred.  “Be good!” he warned,
then he leaned in toward Marika and whispered, “If you want to come with me, I’ll
explain it all to Eve.  There’s no problem.”  He  took her hand in his.

“I’d like that.”  She let her hand
linger.  “I’d also love to be the first person to hear your new single.”  And
she meant it; she always felt happy being with him.  “But I don’t want to be a
stick in the mud either.  She’s ditching rehearsal to spend time with me, and I
sure could use a personal shopper.”  She smiled.

“As you wish,” he sighed, caressing the
back of her hand with his fingers.  “We’re going to be   rehearsing until late
tonight,” he muttered, frustrated, “but I’ll call you early tomorrow so we can
hang out.  OK?”  Federico stared at her with a look of such sweet anticipation
that it was a real shame to have to tell him that Eve had already organized
their whole Sunday together, even offering to drive her back to Orgiano.  He
wasn’t invited.  “Eve, can’t you ever mind your own business?” he scowled.

“Don’t be mean... she’s been so sweet to
me.”  Marika softened the blow by giving him a kiss on his cheek.  Eve was
getting impatient.  “Go and do your rehearsal today.  I’ll see you next week.”

“Come
on
!”  Eve stamped her foot.  “Let’s
go, Marika, drag yourself away from that bloodsucker!”  She winked at her
bandmate.

“Some friend you are!” Federico
complained, annoyed by the lack of privacy.  “Do you have to wait here right
next to us?” 
Was a couple minutes alone with her too much to ask without
being under constant surveillance
!?  “You can go if you’re in such a hurry.” 
He was beginning to regret having ever introduced the two of them when... “Why
look who’s here!”  He was looking out on the flood of people passing them by.  “It’s
your girlfriends, those really friendly ones.  You can go into town with them!”

“Hey there,” two awkward and clearly
curious girls cooed at them, two assistants from the beauty salon where Eve
worked part-time.  “What are you doing in these parts, Jenkins?” questioned the
first.  “Aren’t you working today?” interposed the second.  “Aren’t you going
to introduce us to your friends?” they said together.

“Sorry, but we’re in a hurry.”  Eve pulled
Marika away and quickly distanced herself from the girls and from Federico. 
“Those two are as much fun as a swift kick in the ass, trust me,” she said,
heading towards the crowded center of the walled city.

That weekend, Marika ended up telling Eve
practically everything about herself; from her frequent existential crises to
her problems at school and with her family; from her anxieties about her love
life to the feeling of loneliness that never left her side.  And in return for
Eve’s patient ear, Marika let herself be guided by Eve’s sense of style,
dressing up in a cosmopolitan underground look, like the bad girl of rock ‘n’
roll: second-hand black leather jacket, skinny jeans worn inside a pair of
studded leather boots, a printed tank top, and black nail polish.

It was while they walked those streets on
Sunday, and while Matteo and his team were winning their semi-final match and
waiting to find out who their last opponent would be, that Marika spoke to Eve
for the first time about her unrequited love and of how she had suffered by not
being able to see him again, even though he was just a few miles away.  “You
probably think that I’m just a silly, pathetic little girl,” she said, pitying
herself, “and you’re probably right, but ever since he left, it’s like I can’t
even breathe...” and her lungs rejected whatever she tried to inhale.  The soft
May sun at dusk felt dull and cold on her skin.  Music had become a torment,
for every lyric spoke about him.  Even the songs of the nightingales and robins
reminded her of that star-crossed love.  “I’m lost without him, exiled from my
own home.  And I don’t know where to find it again, where to find myself.”

“
I found a home in your eyes, we’ll
never be apart
.”  Marika’s words reminded Eve of these lyrics by Bat for
Lashes, which she now sang in a voice strained with harmonic tensions as it
rose toward the climax of “
When I run in the dark, Daniel, to a place that’s
vast, Daniel, under a sheet of rain in my heart, Daniel, I dream of home
.” 
Nothing was more painful than a slow farewell to lost dreams.  “It’s OK, that’s
how it has to be.”  Eve combed her fingers through Marika’s hair, pulling her
head down onto her own shoulder.  “Even though you’re in pain now, that’s the
way it should be.  You had to let him go.”

“I know,” she nodded, following her away
from the crowds downtown and up the path toward the heights of the Pausolino
Hill, where her thoughts could dissolve into the immensity of the world. 
Evening had fallen, and she could just make out the moon with its shadows and
craters.  “
You look surprised to see me
,” Marika said to the Earth’s
celestial partner.  “
Come on, now, don’t make that face!  I just need to
know where my star is now,
” she sighed discreetly, dialoguing with herself,
“the star that my whole life revolves around, the only one that could give
warmth back to my lifeless body
.”

But the sun of her own personal solar
system, at the center of the Milky Way of her soul, was already light years
away from her orbit; and who knew when its flames and energy might pass her way
again.

Because after having deviated from his
natural ellipse, Matteo had brought himself back in line to the trajectory
ordained by
San Carlo
, which made no allowance for changes in
direction.  “Milan, Central Station!”  The only stop that was allowed was this
one: Milan.  Matteo walked all the way to the Hotel Residence de Neige in order
to burn off his emotional jet lag, said a quick hi to some of the guys gathered
in the hotel lobby, and headed straight for his room in order to unpack his
bag.  He didn’t know if he would have the strength to hang out in Ninho’s room
tonight.  He had to swipe his badge a number of times through the electronic
lock before the door to room number 410 opened, revealing Carlo Braidi sitting
on an antique-style armchair in the semi-darkness, waiting for him.

Matteo leapt when he heard that voice.  He
hadn’t noticed him in the room.

“Don’t act so surprised.  You
underestimate me, my boy.”  Braidi told him to sit down.  “It’s my job to know
everything about you.  All of you.”

The young player lowered his eyes,
breathing heavily, looking about furtively to see if anyone else was present. 
It was just the two of them.

“I’m not going to make a report on what
has happened, and I don’t even want to know why you did it.”  Carlo squared off
in front of him.  “Because it isn’t going to happen again.”  The silence was
deafening.  “If I ever find you even thinking about disobeying the rules again,
you will find yourself ejected from professional soccer so quick it will make
your head spin.  Forever.  Have I made myself clear?”

Matteo nodded, moving only his eyes as
Carlo stood up and left the room.  “Perfectly clear,” he muttered after the
door latched shut.  He fell back onto his bed, aware of what he had done.  Yet
he had no regrets: he would do it again if necessary.  He felt at peace with
himself.  He felt no anger or remorse; in fact, he felt surprisingly relaxed,
glad to have done everything in his power to help the girl he loved.  He had
had to do it!  Everything else was secondary.

The feelings he cherished for her were so
strong that he felt as if he were following in the footsteps of St. Paul,
because true love is generous and beneficent: “
Love is not envious or
boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way, it is not
irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice in wrong doing, but rejoices in the
truth. It bears all things, believes in all things, hopes all things, endures
all things
.”

Love seeks neither advantage nor gain; and
so it didn’t matter if Marika knew nothing, sitting with her legs curled up on
a bench in the fortress town of Marostica, studying the horizon.

“You had to let him go.”  Eve tried to
divine the thoughts of Marika’s burdened soul.  “And don’t look at me as if I
was some kind of oracle!  Your mind isn’t so hard to read at a time like this.”

“If I put aside the desires that are
clouding my thoughts,” she sighed, “I am totally convinced that
San Carlo
is giving him the chance of a lifetime.  You should see him play... he’s amazing!” 
Her eyes lit up at the thought of him on the playing field.  “He’ll become the
darling of Milan, everyone will love him,” she whined, pained by her
conviction.  “I’m just sorry for myself.  I want him back.”  Marika watched a
black cloud swallow up the moonlight.  “Even though it would mean playing
forever in dusty fields in front of only a handful of fans.”  She filled her
lungs with air.  “But why did it have to happen to me?  It hurts.”  She ran to
the railing to scream out all of the anger that was eating her up inside,
leaving Eve wondering on the bench.  “Whyyyyy...??”  She hurled all of her
disappointment to the winds, yelling until she had run out of air and had
thrown off the pall of rancor that covered the red embers of everlasting love.

“Does Federico know all this?” Eve asked
her, having come to her side at the parapet.