Training in Love (28 page)

After
a bit he gets up and comes over to my side, climbing over the gear shift and
putting himself over me. He starts kissing me again right away and I let him do
it. His hands start to wander with random caresses, on my sides, my belly and I
don’t run. I’m making enormous progress. I don’t pull back even when, with a
caress on my side, he arrives just under my breasts and, with a thumb, brushes
my nipple. It tickles me and I feel a little shocked. Mostly I feel a great
desire to take away his hand and tie it behind his back, but today I won’t run
away. Today I’ll give him what he wants, which is also what I want. To live my
life. I don’t want to wait for anything or anyone.

When
he moves to caress my breasts with two hands at the same time I have to make a
super-human effort not to react, to not move him away, get out of the car and
go home. I grit my teeth and stay.

All
of a sudden I hear a car horn honking furiously, coming from the main road. A
little later someone, a man, yells, “Look where you’re going, asshole!”

I
hear another male voice answer, “Fuck off!”

And
the first voice say, “What?”

Then
the voices overlap and I hear a loud banging of car doors. I detach myself with
alarm and cry in a low voice, “Gianca!”

He
doesn’t even look at me, but continues to kiss my neck. “Hmm?”

“I
think there’s been an accident…”

At
that point he looks up and looks to the right and to the left out of the car
windows, “Where?”

“On
the main road, I heard two people insulting each other and now nothing. I’m
afraid they’re hitting each other, maybe it’s better to go and see…”

He
stares at me, a little confused. “On the… main road?”

I
nod. He sighs and moves to his seat after a brief hesitation. He stays there a
moment and looks out the windshield in silence, and then turns on the car with
a frown. “Now I’ll take you home and we’ll see what’s happening, but I’m not
putting myself in the middle of any fight. They can kill each other, I’m not
taking any punches for two idiot strangers.”

When
we emerge onto the main road, we see that the two men are arguing very closely,
but without laying a hand on one another. We pass slowly beside them without
stopping. Or at least, without calling the police. Gianca wouldn’t have stopped
anyway.

In
front of my house he turns off the car and we are silent for a few minutes. He
doesn’t attempt any other contact and I’m grateful to him. Suddenly, I decide to
quit pretending. With him, with anyone, with myself. “Gianca, you are very
sweet, but I’m in love with another person. I’m sorry.”

He
nods before speaking. “Yeah, I sort of realized that.”

“I’m
sorry,” I repeat sincerely, without knowing what else to say.

“You
used me to forget him?” He asks looking at the dashboard, without turning
towards me. Perhaps thinking that I’m referring to an ex-boyfriend.

“No,
no, I… hoped to turn the page, to start something new… I thought that… it was
enough to put in a little effort.”

“And
instead it’s not like that, huh?” He says, finally turning to look at me.

I
shake my head, beaten.

A
half-smile appears on his face. “Are you that sad about the situation with him
or with me?”

“Both.
Mostly I feel guilty for having gone out with you with… someone else on my
mind.”

He
shrugs in a very magnanimous way. “It happens. Let him throw the first stone
who has never done it.”

I
answer his smile. “Good luck with… with everything, with your future.”

“Thanks.
You too.”

I
get out of the car, I turn to wave once more and then go in the house. I go
straight to my room.

Life
is so unfair. From the first time I saw Giancarlo, my plan was working just
fine. Everything went the way I wanted, exactly as I wanted it. And yet, it
isn’t what I want now. There has been an unexpected surprise, one about a
meter-ninety tall, damn it. I feel like an ingrate towards destiny.

21.

Yesterday
I received a message that said –
I’ve just landed, tomorrow at the bike
track at the usual time?

I
confirmed it immediately. Anyway, sooner or later it had to be done, pointless
to put it off. I had even thought of doing it at the bike track; while we are
running and I’m short of oxygen it would be even better – concentrating on
remaining alive, maybe I wouldn’t be tempted to turn back.

When
I get to the bike track and I see him already out of his car, all tan and
splendid as the sun, I feel death in my heart.

I
feel like weeping at the thought of not seeing him again. My throat closes and
I’m almost unable to breathe, but this is the right thing to do. If I were
reading a book, I’d advise the heroine to do what I’m about to do.

I
park and, as I did that first day, so many months ago, I rest my head on the
steering wheel between my hands. I squeeze my eyes tightly and take a deep
breath, trying to calm my feelings. Most of all I don’t want to burst out crying
in his face.

When
I feel ready, I get out of my Cinquecento and join him. “Welcome back,” I say
to his back and I’m happy because my voice comes about fairly steady.

He
whirls around, smiling and beautiful as always. “Olly!” He embraces me
spontaneously and I let him do it. When he lets go I ask him, “How did it go?
How were the States?”

He
answers while he puts away the usual loose pages. “Great! I came in seventeenth
and the States were really cool!”

I
open my mouth. “Oh my God! But seventeenth is a fantastic score!” I tell him,
sincerely happy for him.

He
smiles, contented, nodding. “Yeah, I’m happy with it too.” He heads towards the
back of his car and I follow him out of habit. “I rested, I had fun and I got a
ton of ideas. Partly for my job as soon as I graduate and partly for you.” I
raise my eyebrows. “For your workouts. I have some new things in mind, if you
agree with them,” he concludes smiling.

“Uh,
about this… I wanted to talk it with you today, because I’ve given it some thought
 and- What are you doing?” I interrupt myself when I see him pull out the
scale.

“We’re
weighing ourselves,” he says calmly, putting it in front of my feet as usual.

“Why?”
I ask skeptically, “It’s only the twentieth, not the end of the month…”

He
lifts his shoulders. “I want to see if you’ve managed without me.”

I
step on the scale without further argument. Besides, it’s the last time.

“Sixty-six,”
he reads. “Great!”

“It’s
just a kilo since the end of July…” I comment without taking my eyes off the
display on the scale.

“It’s
normal, towards the end it’s like that. The last ones are the most difficult.
You’ve done great.”

I
look at him, still on the scale, and try to imprint his face in my memory as it
is now – his white smile, his eyes, as light as the sky on a summer morning,
and the golden color of his hair, eyelashes and unkempt beard.

I
look away getting off the scale. “I wanted to talk to you about my workouts.”

“Tell
me,” he prompts while putting his things away and closing the car. He has a
smile on his lips as he does these simple tasks.

“Today
is the last time.”

And
his smile disappears.

He
turns to me with a questioning and almost… wounded look.

I
wheel away immediately because if I keep looking at him I won’t be able to go
through with it. I walk towards the track and I hear him near me, I sense him
with my peripheral vision.

“Why?”

“Because…
it’s fine like this.” Over these three weeks I’ve thought a lot about what
excuse to give him for ending out relationship and I believe that this is the
only decent one.

“What
do you mean by it’s fine like this?” He asks with a glacial voice.

I
swallow and answer while looking at the ground under my feet, “That I’m
stopping here. Sixty-six kilos are more than enough for me.”

We
are silent, then, when we get to the beginning of the track, he stops and turns
me towards him with a less than elegant jerk. “Given that you’re, in a few
words, liquidating me, you can at least do it while looking me in the face.”

I
look at him, as he wants, and find him angry. “Why are you angry? Your clients
don’t stay around forever… They come and go continually…” I tell him gently,
reasonably.

The
scowl he has on his face, so serene before, doesn’t soften a bit. “You still
have six kilos to go…”

I
shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I feel fine like this. I don’t feel the need to lose
any more weight.” Instead I will certainly try to continue alone, until I feel
satisfied, but I have to quit seeing him.

“Is
it the truth or is there something you’re not telling me?”

I
shrug my shoulders again, “It’s the truth.”

He
looks away and gazes at the horizon for a few seconds before observing me
again. “Okay then. Stop at sixty-six, but we can go on anyway to maintain it…”

“Forgive
me Andrea, but eighty euros a month is something of a burden… If I were a rich
heiress I’d pay it voluntarily, but I can’t afford to go on like this
indefinitely.”

“We
can cut it down,” he says suddenly. “Only do once a week…”

He
stops because he sees me shaking my head.

“Let’s
do once a week and you don’t have to pay me anymore,” he proposes, watching me
closely.

I
burst out laughing, shaking my head. “If you do this with all your clients you
won’t earn a cent!”

But
he doesn’t laugh. “So?”

I
silently shake my head again, a gesture of definitive negation.

“No…
There’s something that you’re not telling me, otherwise you’d accept a free
session…” He says finally with a frown.

“I’ll
pay you anyway up until the end of the month. I think it’s the right thing to
do.”

He
makes a gesture of anger and looks away. “Who cares about that…” He passes a
hand through his hair and looks at me again. “What is the problem Olly?”

I
look at my watch for an answer. “Let’s start, it’s already three-twenty.”

I
see him struggling with himself. He’d like to continue discussing it, but in
the end, albeit with irritation, he walks towards the track and I follow him.

He’s
quiet for quite a bit. By now we should already be running, but he doesn’t
decide to start. He just keeps walking and I do what he does. Today, after all,
I really don’t care what we do.

“Is
it your boyfriend that wants you to quit?” He breaks the silence after about a
quarter of an hour.

I
laugh. “What boyfriend?”

“There
isn’t any boyfriend?”

“No.”

I
hear him inhale and exhale. “Because the last time I saw you, you were all
intent on…”

“To
do that it’s not necessary to be involved with anyone.”

“No,
in fact,” he agrees quickly.

We
carry on in silence for a while until Andrea slows down, and it’s not as though
we were walking that quickly… “Has something happened?”

I
don’t answer. I keep on walking.

“What
happened?” He asks, his voice hardening.

I
shrug. “It’s none of your business.”

“What
happened Olly?” He raises his voice with a note of warning that makes me
straighten up. But I don’t give in. I don’t look at him and I don’t answer.

Andrea
stops completely. I turn to him. He seems a little pale, but it must be the
shade of the trees.  “Who?” His tone of voice is cold, authoritarian.

“Huh?”

“Who
was it, Olivia?”

He
never calls me Olivia… “Giancarlo.”

He
inhales hard and puts a hand in his hair, while with the other he scratches his
chest. “How? When? Where?” He asks when he exhales.

“But
what do you care?” I’m vaguely annoyed, because he’s distracting me from my
pain. I would like just to look at him, memorize him and wallow in my
unhappiness.

At
this point Andrea transforms – he comes at me like a fury, he grabs both my
arms and with his face mutated by anger, says in a loud voice, “Answer me Olivia,
or I swear to God
 this time I’ll smash
something!”

Since
we’re in the middle of nowhere, more or less, and at the moment it’s me in his
hands… I opt for a rapid accommodation. “We went out a couple of times…”

“When?”

“Last
week… Andrea, you’re hurting me…” He loosens his grip on my arms but doesn’t
let me go.

“Why?”

“You
mean why did I go out with him? Because he asked me to!” I answer, beginning to
attempt to free myself.

“I’ll
ask you again,” he says very slowly, “What happened?”

“Nothing…”
I huff forlornly.

He
shakes me. “Olivia!”

I
puff again. “We kissed and…”

He
inhales sharply. “And?”

“And,”
I redden, looking away from his eyes, “He just… caressed me… a little,” I
conclude, struggling with embarrassment.

“Where?”

“You
can’t be serious…” I say looking at him again. “You can’t really think that
I’ll tell you…”

“I’m
dead serious. Where?”

I
look away and don’t answer. He shakes me a little harder and raises his voice,
“Olivia! Where?”

Luckily
no-one passes here at this time of day… “Oh my God! In… this area…” I say,
indicating my chest with vague gestures.

“Just
there?”

I
look at him open-mouthed for a few seconds, then I nod, blushing.

He
lets me go, looking at me with the eyes of a crazy person. “Were you dressed?”

“What?”
I ask in a shrill voice.

“You
heard me. With or without clothes?”

I
produce the most disdainful “Heh” that I can manage, starting to walk in the
opposite direction, going back to the cars.

I
don’t get far, because he grabs an arm and turns me around until I find myself
a centimeter from his face, twisted by anger. “Olivia, if you go back I’ll
wreck my car and yours too. And then I’ll ask you for damages.” He shakes me
again. “With or without?”

“With!”
I yell.

Suddenly
he lets go of me, taking a step back. He is breathing heavily as though he had
really been running and he begins to walk up and down my field of vision, like
a caged lion.

“It’s
none of your business anyway…” I murmur weakly. He doesn’t even answer.

He
begins to crack his knuckles. “Do you want to hit me?” I ask him with a teasing
tone.

He
turns towards me, still scowling, still upset. “Yes… yes… You know, I would hit
you… I’d strangle you…”

I
look at him in astonishment. “You’re this angry because I didn’t listen to you?
You’re not my father you know. I’m a free person… I’m an adult…”

He
stares at me and then comes very close. He takes my arms with his hands, but
not as hard as before. “I haven’t been able to touch you even with a finger for
months! Months! Not even to do stretching!” He shakes me, beginning to search
my face with his eyes. “You didn’t let me get close! Not even for an instant,
ever! You kept repeating incessantly ‘don’t touch me’! Those words… don’t touch
me…” He shakes his head, as though lost in thought for a second. “And then this
guy,” he recovers, shaking himself, “Who… who is he? Someone you saw one
evening? You didn’t even remember his face before Nic’s party! I know it!”

     I
look away.

“The
first anonymous jerk shows up and you let him kiss you, you let him touch you… maybe
you touch him too…” He stops. I can see his sudden stillness even if I’m
looking down. “Did you touch him?”

I
shake my head negatively.

“And
me?” He asks in a loud voice, lightly shaking me.

“And
you what?” I ask in a low voice, looking up slowly into his eyes.

He
is breathing heavily, with his mouth open. His cheeks are flushed and his
eyebrows are still knit. He stares at me intensely, without answering. Slowly
he lifts his arm and brings his hand behind my head, releasing my ponytail
roughly. When he speaks, he does so slowly, pronouncing each word clearly,
“Don’t tell me ‘don’t touch me’ today, because I won’t listen to you anyway.”

It’s
swift and electrifying as a white bolt of lightning in a dark sky. He lowers
his face to the level of mine and he kisses me. His lips touch mine, impetuous
and insistent, until I open my mouth and let him in.

His
hands are everywhere. They run rapidly all over my body, from my hair, where he
buries both of them at the same time, to all along my back to my bottom and
back again to my hair which he grabs in locks and then goes down again. He
grazes my flanks while he kisses me passionately on the mouth. Then his hands
take two different routes – one in front, touching my side and my breasts, and
the other behind me. After separate explorations, they return to join around my
hips which are pushed towards his, making me feel his excitement distinctly.