Training in Love (25 page)

This
said, I move away and I see him redden. Donato Poggi is blushing! I feel like
yelling!

“I
have to pay,” he says shortly.

With
a smile I take a couple of steps back and stick my head in the kitchen. “Leo?
The guy has to pay!”

I
don’t turn towards Madame Barbieri and Andrea until Donato Poggi has paid and
left the cafè. And when I do, I find their faces smiling and content.

“I
closed a frigging circle,” I exclaim smiling, happy, surprised… Surprised at
myself.

Andrea
just looks at me, without saying anything, but his smile widens and becomes even
more warm.

19.

The
thirty-first of July is the twins’ birthday, and usually the Saturday of that
week they have a party somewhere.

This
year, besides their birthday, there is Linda’s graduation to celebrate. For
this reason they’ve decided to have a mega-party at their house. There will be
a pretty large group of people and it will definitely be a big thing, including
a catering service. All of the ground floor will be used, the yard and the game
room too. The preparations for this party have been going on for weeks.
Yesterday for example, there were even the people setting up the lights in the
garden.

Andrea
won’t be there. I already know because early tomorrow morning he leaves for the
U.S. He’ll be away for a good two weeks, even if the Iron Man lasts less than a
day. He’s taking advantage of it to take a vacation and visit the States a bit.
He’s going alone, so he’ll decide on the itinerary when he’s there, day by day.
We said goodbye this morning (it was also weighing day – sixty-seven kilos) after
our workout. In a certain way I prefer that he isn’t here. He’d undoubtedly
come with some girl and it would only hurt me to see them for the entire
evening… Instead, I can have fun without worries and maybe meet someone new.
Someone who’ll cure me of this blond disease.

When
I go into the house, I look around for the twins and Linda right away. I know I
won’t run into Mrs. Bonaventura because the parents decided to go away for the
weekend.

The
very wide living room on the ground floor is already full of people. Against
the wall bordering the kitchen there’s a temporary buffet, where food and
drinks are placed, with the catering boys and girls scattered here and there. I
pass through the veranda to reach the backyard and am left open-mouthed –
literally open-mouthed – because the effect is incredible. The lighting guys
have done a magnificent job. There are burning torches and little lanterns
scattered in a circle around the yard and near the tables they form a sort of
courtyard. At the center of every table there is a lit candle, and the fact
that there is no wind helps to keep the little flames alive. I think the space
in the middle is for dancing, but no-one is doing it. They’re all standing or
seated at the tables chatting. There are also lights on the trees, small,
yellow lights which create a genuinely romantic, and a little dreamlike,
atmosphere.

A
DJ, a friend of Nic’s, is positioned on the veranda and is now putting on a
piece by David Guetta. I see Linda nearing the area of the DJ looking stunning this
evening with her long blond hair worn loose, straightened silky smooth, and
wearing a short silvery dress with matching sandals. The twins pop up near
Linda, both dressed in black, but Nic is also wearing a narrow red tie and a
chain hanging from a belt loop and wrapping around to the back. Marco is more
elegant, even without a tie, because he isn’t wearing black jeans, but cloth
pants with a stripe in the middle. Next to Nic is Andrea’s model. Her again.

I
come closer with a little hesitation. Standing in front of them and seeing how
they’re dressed I start to regret not having worn something more simple…

“Olly!”
Nic exclaims, the first to notice me as I come nearer. “You’re gorgeous!”

The
others turn around and Linda smiles at me. I’m wearing a dress of black denim,
brand new – bought today - all form-fitting. All. It was a risk, but I
wanted to give it a try. In fact I’m already regretting it. It doesn’t even
have straps, my shoulders are completely uncovered and it wraps my whole body
down to mid-knee. The skirt is so tight, even if the jeans fabric is
elasticized, that I have trouble walking. I have a pair of black sandals. The
heels aren’t particularly high, but they’ve already given me a bit of trouble,
continually sinking into the ground in the garden. My hair is loose and in
ringlets and I wanted to be a little more daring with my makeup too, outlining
my eyes with black while wearing a pink lipgloss with sparkles on my lips.

“Heavens,
we’ll have to get you a body guard…” Says Linda.

“I
hope I don’t have to punch anyone the evening of my birthday…” Marco remarks,
almost at the same time.

I
laugh, shaking my head. “Oh come on!”

We
continue to chat about this and that, exchanging a few words with the model,
who I discover is called Elena, until Nic comes to whisper in my ear, “Come on,
let’s go get something to drink.” He takes me by the elbow and we move away. I
glance at Elena. Is she officially going out with Nic now? I couldn’t say. She
remains impassive, chatting with the people around her. I can’t tell if she’s
even noticed that Nic is leaving.

“I
wanted to tell you something…” He tells me in front of the drinks table. “But
no, forget it.”

I
stamp a foot on the ground. “Oh no! You can’t do that! In that case you
shouldn’t have said anything!”

He
laughs and I can’t resist, “What are you doing with Andrea’s model?”

“She’s
not Andrea’s model,” he answers as he takes out two glasses from one of the
catering waiters. “And she’s not a model.”

“Ah
no?” I ask with interest, taking a sip. “And what does she do?”

We
move a little towards the center of the room. “She’s a pharmacist.”

“Oh
please, you’re kidding! Tell me that that girl hasn’t got a degree in pharmacy!
The world would be too unfair!” I burst out with my mouth hanging open.

Nic
laughs. “Then it’s not fair…”

I
shake my head and Nic continues with a smug half-smile on his lips, “Anyway, I
keep her busy - very busy - so she doesn’t reach out her tentacles to you know
who.”

“You’re
very useful Nic. Too bad that she’s already reached them out…” I reply, bowing
my head.

“No,
she hasn’t.”

“No?”

“No.”

I
ponder this and then say, “Too bad then, since it’s hopeless anyway…”

“That’s
what you think-” He stops in mid-sentence, looking over my shoulder towards the
door. “Speak of the devil…”

I
turn and see Andrea with a dark-haired beauty at his side, tall and voluptuous.
One good thing about Andrea is that he isn’t too fussy about the coloring and
physical dimensions of the girls he goes out with, they’re all different. The
bad part is that they all are fine. That is, all of them except me, obviously.

I
huff. He’s gorgeous… what a pain! He has dark pants and a black shirt, tight,
but not too much so, untucked so as to cover his belt. And just how good does
he look dressed in black with that super-blond hair he has? And what is he
doing here when he said he wouldn’t come?

“Yeah,
he told me he wouldn’t be coming too…”

Hearing
Nic’s voice I realize that I’ve spoken and didn’t just think it. Two seconds in
his presence and I’m already making mistakes.

Nic
and I observe him as we speak. “This new entry?” I ask him casually.

“Never
seen her.”

It
isn’t even thirty seconds that we’re watching them and yet Andrea turns around
as precise as a compass towards us and intercepts my gaze.

“What
a pain… Already caught…” I murmur grumpily. Right, suddenly I’m in a bad mood.

Nic
laughs beside me. “Wave,” he says raising his hand repeating the same,
identical gesture towards Andrea and his companion, with the same smug face and
the same identical tone of voice as a few weeks ago. “And try to smile… it
looks like, all of a sudden, your cat died.”

I
wave then turn to Nic and say sarcastically, “Funny guy… Tell me, is it the
effects of being another year older? How many is it? Thirteen?”

Nic
laughs, throwing his head back.

“I’m
going to get something to eat,” I grumble.

“I’m
going back to Elena.”

“See
you later.”

He
nods and we head in opposite directions – me to the buffet table and he towards
the veranda to go out in the yard.

It’s
not that I want to throw myself on the food, I’m getting better with that, it’s
a continual struggle, but as time goes by I’m getting better at managing my
negative energy fields. But the fact is, at parties when I don’t know anyone,
when I don’t speak to anyone and it seems as though everyone else is occupied… I
feel embarrassed. And then, in order to do something or just have something in
my hands… I eat or drink.

I
calculate what I could nibble that isn’t too compromising and opt for a canapé with
artichoke on top and what seems to be soft cheese underneath. I have a glass
which is still practically full in my hand, so I have to take the canapé with
one hand, the left, the clumsy one. This operation occupies my complete
concentration because the artichoke is terribly precarious and trembles for the
entire route from the table to my mouth. I’ve almost done it when I hear a
voice practically
inside
my right ear,
“
How many is that
?”.

The
surprise makes me jump and the artichoke, already unsteady from the beginning,
falls on me, rolling down my body to the floor. The canapé flops over in my
hand which fills it with soft, slimy stuff. I recognize that voice perfectly
and turn around incinerating him with my gaze. “It was the first!”

He
smiles and puts his hands in his pockets. He seems satisfied. I have a glass in
one hand and the upside down canapé in the other and a greasy stripe that runs
down my dress from my left breast to my feet where the small defenseless
artichoke is lying. It is the first dress that I’ve bought in maybe ten years. Certainly
the first dress than didn’t repulse me to put on, even if it took courage. I’m
suddenly annoyed. “Damn, why don’t you quit moving around so quietly?” I ask
him with irritation. And what is he doing here? He wasn’t even supposed to
come… And why isn’t he on the other side of the room with his babe?

“You
know how much this dress cost me?”

He
looks at it, in its entirety, from the wrapping over my breasts down to my feet
and back, and has a look on his face… a look that it’s better that Linda
doesn’t see - it would fill her head with illusions. He hasn’t yet looked up at
my face and I feel a small, uncontrollable shiver which I try to eliminate by
quickly shrugging my shoulders. And attacking him, “It was the first that I’ve
bought in almost ten years and the first since-” I stop. The babe has
materialized behind Andrea and has a decidedly irritated look on her face. I’d
even say she’s giving me a dirty look, but I’ve never had a dirty look from a
woman in my life. Looks of scorn, looks of pity, looks of compassion, friendliness,
kindness, yes. Looks of happiness and relief because I don’t represent a threat
too. Lots of these last ones. But nasty looks, or dare I say almost… jealous
ones? No, never. Therefore, the babe must be mad for some personal reason and
isn’t one of those people who are able to resist dumping their anger on the surrounding
world or not taking it out on people who have nothing to do with it – myself on
this occasion. Maybe she’s mad at Andrea. Oh, how I understand her.

Andrea
follows my gaze and turns, sees her and moves to make space, then he introduces
her. “Ah, Tiziana, this is Olivia. Olivia this is Tiziana, a friend of mine.”

At
his words she swings around towards him and, if possible, gives him an even
dirtier look than she gave me. I try to soothe things by putting out my hand –
which she doesn’t shake – and saying, “Pleased to meet you.”

She
looks at my hand, crosses her arms and says, “Oh, your charity case…”

I
pull back my hand and, for a moment, am without words. Andrea stiffens visibly
and looks at her, frowning. From his face I think, no, I know, that he’s about
to go off on one of his lectures. And as exhilarating as it is to not be on the
receiving end for once, I don’t feel like watching it or being put in the
middle of an unpleasant moment either. I try to lighten the atmosphere with a
joke, “I wouldn’t exactly call it charity given how much I pay him…” I say
laughing.

Andrea
turns to me and relaxes his shoulders, but he doesn’t smile. It goes without
saying that for her it’s as if I hadn’t even spoken… Good grief, why do I even bother?

“Well,”
I begin, clearing my voice, “Nice to meet you Tiziana,” I continue, as false as
Judas. “But now I’ll leave you because Linda’s waving to me, I think she wants
to speak to me.”

Linda,
who isn’t even in the room. I hope the most handsome couple in the world
doesn’t notice, but in the end I don’t think they’re interested. They will have
understood that it was obviously an excuse. I decide to go to the bathroom to
clean my dress since I’m alone again, have nothing to do and have to get away
from the buffet table. I ask myself again why I bother to go out. I could have
stayed home, under a warm blanket with a cup of tea in hand and finish the book
I’m reading or watch
Dirty Dancing
for the trillionth time, imagining
that someone like Patrick Swayze comes to me during an occasion… an occasion
like this one! And tells everyone, “No-one can put Olly in the corner!”

Or
better- Oww! My thoughts are interrupted because someone has bumped into me so
hard I’ve almost fallen. I curse as the glass which I still have in my hand
shakes and luckily only partially spills on my dress which is, fortunately,
black. Crap, I’ve only been wearing it for two hours! Our relationship is not
exactly getting off to a good start…