Andor paused. Then he smiled again, as politely as he could.
“Is it possible to speak to her for a minute? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
That seemed to do it. The woman went into the next room, while Andor stood there, under the silent gaze of the father.
The girl appeared on the door. She was barefoot, in crumpled gray sweatpants and a tiny top, as if she’d just gotten out of bed. She looked morose and unwashed.
“Hi,” she said. “You’re back.”
She didn’t seem surprised to see him in her kitchen, almost as if she had been hoping he’d show up to rescue her. At least this is how he interpreted her lack of concern. This emboldened him.
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before I left here.”
“Then let’s go talk outside.” Ignoring her parents, she moved briskly across the room and walked out in the yard. Andor made half a bow in their direction, as they were standing still, unable to decipher what was happening.
He had to be fast—he knew she wasn’t going to be easily impressed and would give him only a few minutes. He said he’d be happy to give her a ride north so she could save money and still meet her friends if she wanted, but on the way he intended to make her a proposal. A well-paid job. A fun one, that involved traveling, possibly abroad as well. Then she could choose whether to follow her friends and go to France or take the opportunity he was offering her.
“Why don’t you tell me now what kind of a job it is?” the girl asked.
He could see both her parents standing stiffly by the door, their necks stretched in the attempt to catch his words.
“It’s complicated. We’ll talk in the car.”
The girl looked above his head into the distance, as if he didn’t exist. She was beautiful in a way that was hard to see now—in those ugly clothes, without any makeup—but he would bring it out if she’d let him.
He thought it might be useful to put a little pressure on her.
“Think about it, but if you are interested, we need to get going. I’ve got people waiting for me farther north.”
The girl shrugged. She pushed away a stone with the tips of her bare toes.
“Okay. I need a little time to pack my bag.”
He controlled himself and repressed a smile.
“Sure.”
He was hoping for a sign of recognition, a little spark in her eyes now that she’d agreed to leave with him, but the girl didn’t change her sullen expression. She began to move away toward the house.
Andor called her.
“Hey!”
She turned around.
“I realized I don’t even know your name,” he said.
“It’s Ada.”
She didn’t ask his.
It took her only half an hour to get ready.
The father was sitting in the kitchen smoking a cigarette, his back against the wall. The mother was drying pots and pans with a dishcloth. “Who is this man? Where is he taking you?” she asked the girl when she came into the room with her bag.
“He’s giving me a job.”
The father snickered and clicked his tongue with disgust.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the girl scolded him. She knew what they were thinking.
“Are you coming back?” the mother asked.
“Does it matter to you?”
She swore to herself this was the last time she’d see them. She wasn’t going to call them ever again, no matter what.
The parents didn’t come out to the old station wagon to say goodbye, didn’t wave from the door. Ada threw her canvas bag in the backseat and hopped in. She pointed at the large wooden crates and asked what they were.
“I’ll tell you later,” Andor said with a hint of smugness as he started the engine.
* * *
Just before they reached Bari, Andor parked the car at a gas station. He turned to Ada, who had been quiet along the way, dozing off from time to time.
“Okay. Before I tell you what this job is about, I need to show you what’s inside the boxes.”
Ada yawned, stretching.
“I need to pee.”
She seemed to be always dictating what needed to be done next, which was unnerving. Even now, just as he was about to unveil his pièce de résistance, she wasn’t paying attention. He gestured toward the tiny market next to the gas pump.
“Okay, the restroom is inside. I’ll wait for you here.”
She came back after a few minutes, with her hair completely wet, dripping on her clothes. She must’ve put her head under the sink. He pointed at one of the wooden trunks.
“Open it,” he said. “But go slowly and be gentle.”
The girl fiddled with the lock. She peered inside.
The snakes were slithering, one on top of the other, in a sort of triple knot that did and undid itself in slow motion. The mix of colors was startling: the bright green of the anaconda, like fresh grass, mixed with the pale orange of the ball python and the dusty pink of the young rosy boa. Tails, tongues, scales, crossed over one another in a glossy tangle. She watched, enraptured.
“You can touch them—they are harmless.”
She looked at him, and it seemed to Andor that she was waiting for his encouragement.
“Go on. You can hold one. Just be careful not to grab it by the head.”
She placed her hand on the green anaconda. She seemed uncertain.
“Yes, like that. Now hold his body up with both hands.”
She held the snake as if she were holding a rope at both ends, then she lifted them slowly, so the snake was in front of her eyes. She grinned.
“It’s cold.”
Andor noticed how her voice had changed, had dropped its harsh timbre.
“Yes. And can you feel how strong it is?”
“Yes. It’s like holding a…” She laughed. “An iron bar.”
He saw how she was amused, but also intent, as she tested the firmness of those twitching muscles with her fingertips; he knew exactly what she felt, because anybody who had ever held a snake had the same sensation. Yes, it was like holding a giant dick with a hard-on, but it was also much more than that.
She wasn’t afraid; that was the beautiful thing.
“And what’s inside that one?” Ada asked, pointing her chin toward the larger trunk.