The Confessions Of A Concubine. Roberta Mezzabarba

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СКАЧАТЬ had only seen that woman a few times, in the

      store, and now she was on her knees with my head resting on her legs. The touch of her hands on the nape of my neck suddenly made me think of my grandmother, but it was just a flash.

      I tried to get up, but my legs still couldn't support me. Mrs. Olga helped me to a sitting position, and then stand up.

      So it was that I made my entrance into the meeting room where the buffet was set up, supported by the director's wife, attracting everyone’s gaze, including Pietro’s.

      I wanted to cry.

      I spent the next two hours with colleagues who kindly took turns keeping me company.

      At a certain point there was a momentary pause in the close surveillance, to which I was being subjected, just enough for Pietro to come closer and whisper calmly in my ear:

      "You look beautiful. I would have liked to be the one who found you in the bathroom, unconscious,

      completely in my power, so you could not have denied me!"

      I hated him for his one-way jibes, but his proximity melted my joints and ligaments, and I felt my knees go weak again and the blood melt in my veins, yet I had to maintain the impassive mask of the afflicted colleague, because his wife was watching us.

      Whether it was hatred or the fire that burned inside me that was predominant, I had no idea.

      A few words when I returned from that devastating evening.

       Between today and tomorrow

       I dress in air

       and in the irreversibility of time,

       I wait,

       to breathe.

      Sitting at the kitchen table, alone with the scarlet notebook in front of me, I did not want to sleep, just write.

      I wanted Pietro but I could not have him, it was clear, but I didn’t want to listen to the voice of logic that told me to stop, to interrupt that relationship while I was still in time, in time to save myself, in time to save my dignity, in time not to continue on the path of vivisection in pieces, of the choice, I like this and I don’t like that.

      But stubbornly I looked only at what I wanted to see, I gave light to what made my heart beat faster, without evaluating the fact that Pietro seemed more interested in sex than in a future together, that after seeing him with his wife I should no longer have any doubt that he would never leave her for me.

      But blindness is a choice.

      And I had chosen.

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