Ties. Roberta Mezzabarba

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      One

      December 1999

      A blend of smells filled the air of the gym, pungent smells of sweaty bodies pushing their physical activity to the limit.

      Guglielmo was holding a shiny barbell, his fingers clenched it tightly, showing all the muscles flexed in his biceps, his skin was slightly tanned and glistening with sweat…

      He loved the carefree afternoons that he could spend in that environment, where he could work off the worse side of his personality.

      He could watch unnoticed those bodies all wrapped up in tight, brightly coloured sports gear.

      He was avidly sizing up the bodies and souls of those girls in the backlight, he followed their movements, their facial expressions, their hair fluttering in the air. There were billions of them, like countless fragments of lives that he would never get to know.

      Meanwhile, Claudio, one of his university classmates, was sitting on a bench beside him, the two of them would meet up often at the gym too.

      «What are you doing? Always chasing girls, huh?»

      As he was speaking, Claudio was making eye contact with a voluptuous girl who perfectly fitted her aquamarine leggings.

      «Well, you are quite right! Despite the fact that I do not believe in God, I must admit that there must be something good and merciful able to create such beautiful and perfect creatures…»

      Claudio had a great interest in women.

      As he was lifting the barbell over his head, Guglielmo was looking at a group of five girls who were all involved in a friendly chat, slightly moving their hands as they were speaking.

      «You know, when I was a little boy, I really loved staying in the same room with my mother when she was having her friends over. I liked the way they would talk freely about men, forgetting that I was there, with no reserves, without any shame. They would say how predictable they were and how easy it was to fool them. I was really fascinated by those conversations. Every time I would swear to myself that, growing up, I would not become like one of those men they were talking about. It seemed fair to me not to disappoint women because they had allowed me to get to know them deep down. Over time I learned that a woman likes a man also for all the things that she can’t understand about him, for their lack of communication. Men look at women drooling as if they were cakes displayed on the window of a bakery shop.»

      «Guglielmo… are you telling me that you are so sentimental and philosophical that you just look at all these gorgeous women with a clinical eye, just to find out more about the female world? »

      Claudio was trying hard to keep a straight face: it was quite hard for him, if not impossible, to have an interest in a woman that was not merely sexual. A thunderous laughter explained to Guglielmo once again what Claudio’s point of view was on the matter.

      «You are always the same: you would do anything to become a gynaecologist, just to… I like everything about women: what they think, and most of all I do not like to disappoint them, I like to give them what they want off me».

      Guglielmo was a promising young man. He was tall, his hair was black and a little wavy, his complexion was slightly tanned, his legs were long and slender but he had a lean body, not skinny. His fingers were slender and had big and smooth nails resembling hulled almonds. There was one time when a gypsy read his hand and was fascinated by this particular feature that he had. She told him that people who have such big nails have engaged in great battles with life and against death.

      Guglielmo did not think much of the tales told by a woman who was used to make up stories to make a living. He could not recount any struggle carried out for his survival. Before leaving, that gypsy made a statement that he could still remember clearly: «Nobody remembers such grief; it just flows in your bloodstream, otherwise everybody would go mental or would be doomed…»

      Two

      Angelica was a good-natured woman.

      Her temperament reflected her appearance. She was slender, almost frail, her hands were delicate, her tiny rosy nails were perfect like little rose petals. She saw the world with her sky blue eyes and a pure heart.

      It was often difficult to put an age on her. At times she looked like a young and helpless fawn that was taking her first unsteady steps, but she also looked like a tall column of an ancient temple, overbearing, steady, a silent witness to events occurred over thousands of years.

      Her husband Filiberto and herself lived in a magnificent house overflowing with stucco decorations, paintings done with dark colours, heavy curtains that hung in loose folds, ornaments that could have told themselves the history of almost all their ancestors.

      They were leading a quiet life, almost too perfect.

      Angelica loved her husband. He was not very demonstrative but he tried to please her in every possible way. Filiberto showed his love for his wife on various occasions but there was one instance when she really appreciated what he did, and that was going back twenty years.

      It was a dark night and the moon was incredibly big. A pregnant woman knocked at their door, she looked frightened. She was holding a ragged bundle; you could hear the cries of a baby coming from it.

      «Take care of this baby, please… his mother… can’t… she left him… she is dead. I don’t have the strength to knock at another door. I am going to have my baby soon… Please, look after him, his only fault is to have been brought into this world… somebody will surely be very grateful to you. His name is Guglielmo. Please, promise me one thing…. never tell anyone about what has happened tonight… never.»

      None of Angelica’s pregnancies could ever reach full term: it seemed that her body could not bear the burden of a new life. That strange visit, on that strange night was for her a divine message embedded in the sky.

      After the arrival of baby Guglielmo, Angelica realised that the time had come for her to stop trying for a baby. She was physically and mentally exhausted… Surely, she thought, Guglielmo was a reward, a bonus, a treat to relieve her from the painful awareness of being unable to have children.

      Angelica took the little bundle from the arms of that stranger, without saying a word, unaware of what had gone on nine months back, nor that very night. The stranger went off in the night, plodding along because of the weight of the new life that she was carrying. Before disappearing completely from their sight, a strong contraction came on and got her to fall to the ground. She was looking for the door which was still open. In the dim light you could see the woman wearing a long beige nightgown with the baby in her arms, still wrapped around the rags he was born in, and of the man with his dark and thick moustache who was standing beside her, with a suspicious expression on his face.

      Angelica pleaded with her husband to take the woman to the hospital. The man helped her up from the ground and coldly escorted her to the car to drive her to the hospital and leave her there. Filiberto had picked up something not quite right off that woman who had showed up at their door with the baby. Her wife had looked at him with such a pleading look that he could not deny her the happiness to raise a child.

      From that night on, they did not hear anything about that woman. Abiding by the woman’s instructions, they told everybody that they had adopted the baby, thanks to very influential acquaintances.

      Filiberto СКАЧАТЬ