‘Hiya!’ says Teo. And then it happens. I don’t care. The serenity that I have tried to maintain abandons me, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.
‘Get out of here!’ I order him, distraught. I never want to see him again. All he does is screw up my life.
Teo smiles, satisfied. He doesn’t say a word, just collects his things and heads for the door.
Before leaving, however, he concludes his afternoon’s work with a pat on the professor’s shoulder.
‘Be careful, she’s hot stuff. Bites. But maybe you like that,’ he says, before walking away and leaving me to deal with this colossal shit show by myself.
The professor clears his throat. ‘Dr. Doria… Sara…’
‘Professor, I swear, it’s not what it looks like…’ I interrupt him, clambering down from the stool.
The professor raises an eyebrow. ‘The signs seem unmistakable, If you’ll forgive me.’
‘No, no. Really. No. He’s just an idiot who decided to go back to school. And he has no hope, absolutely none.’
‘So he is also a student? Doctor, this is certainly not a happy situation.’
‘Student? But you saw him, professor. He’s not a kid. He’s a daddy’s boy who has decided to get a degree after years of idleness. He has straw instead of a brain!’
‘You seem to know a lot about him…,’ he muses, and I decide to shut up. Everything I say is just making the situation worse.
‘Listen, doctor. I’ll turn a blind eye to this… er… problematic situation. The gentleman is more than an adult, but he is still enrolled with us. I’ll pretend to have not seen. As long as it doesn’t happen again,’ he announces solemnly.
‘Sure! Thanks!’ I say, relieved.
‘You must no longer give him private interviews in your study…’
‘Of course. I’ll be more careful.’
‘And also… I would like you to come out with me on Friday night.’
My jaw falls in amazement. Could it be that, underneath it all, the professor is like any other man and he is jealous? Perhaps I should be thanking that lame-brain Teo, after all.
‘Pardon?’ I stutter.
‘I will be attending a gala dinner on Friday night. There will be lots of important people. Actors, producers, journalists. The editor of the semiotics magazine will also be there, and I’d like you to discuss the article you are writing with him …’
Damn, it’s not a real date, but … wait a minute! Does he want to recognise the fruit of my labours? This is even better!
‘Of course we will present it as my work, as agreed.’
‘Of course,’ I mutter, feeling all my expectations collapse around me.
‘Very well. I’ll pick you up around eight. Oh, and it’s black tie, please,’ he says, taking his leave.
Left alone with my thoughts, all of the emotions that I kept inside burst forth unison: stress, anger, expectation, disappointment. I feel attacked from every angle. A cretin that keeps putting me in embarrassing situations, a man who he doesn’t notice me except as his personal archive and my total lack of suitable cocktail dresses. The picture of a total loser.
13
Teo
Why am I so nervous? The woman must have hypnotised me, or maybe there was something in the macarons, like the prosecco at the wedding. For the past two days my mind keeps returning to the hour we spent together and, I have to admit, I enjoy remembering our conversations. Tormenting and infuriating her gives me a perverse pleasure, but at the same time it makes me uneasy: it’s not normal.
I don’t interact with plain women. Or at least I didn’t use to. For some time now, however, the only significant interaction I have had is with a girl I once would never even have considered. I’m not even kidding.
‘Just a bet with myself,’ I say in a rather high-pitched voice, trying to convince myself.
‘Are you talking to yourself now?’
My father saunters into my office, as usual, without even knocking. And right when I was babbling away, of course. Another thing to convince him that I’m totally unstable.
‘It’s an annoying habit of mine. Conversations with myself are usually the most interesting and stimulating.’
Except for conversations with…
Stop thinking about it, I snap at myself. If I could slap my own face, believe me, I would. I decide against it, however, on account of the stern-faced witness in the room. I don’t want him to have me sectioned. And he would too.
‘Very droll. I hope you will remain in high spirits for tonight.’
Tonight? What is tonight?
My face must display my bewilderment clearly because my father proceeds to clarify, with an extremely discouraged expression on his face.
‘The gala evening, the one in which we participate every year, don’t you remember?’
I don’t remember, because I always do my best to remove unpleasant things from my mind, and the gala is one of them. It’s a event that takes place once a year and celebrates, let’s say, those personalities who have distinguished themselves in various ways in the city. There are dignitaries from the world of culture and show business, entrepreneurs and leading professionals, some politicians and some athletes. And then there is us, or rather… there is my father.
To be honest, I have nothing in common with all those stiff intellectuals. I am just a beautiful shell, I have never deceived myself to the contrary. I don’t enjoy discussing foreign policy or economics, philosophy and the like. I don’t understand anything about football and the only music that I know is what I hear when I happen to turn on the radio.
I don’t have a favourite singer or a favourite program. I am culturally useless and I don’t make a secret of it, nor am I at all embarrassed about it.
‘I don’t think I’ll come,’ I announce, already knowing that there will be a battle to convince me of the contrary.
‘You have to come. One day you will be inheriting this company.’
Sore point. ‘As late as possible, I hope. Anyway, I thought you were going to disinherit me?’
‘I would have, but you went back to your studies, didn’t you? I can give you the benefit of the doubt .’
‘That’s good to know,’ I reply. Hell, considering the way that I’m blowing my second chance, I should be afraid of being disinherited for real. Sooner or later he will find out that I’m wasting this opportunity, too.
‘This evening is very important, you know. It means a lot to me. Being invited is an honour, it shows that our work means something. Every year we receive an acknowledgment of our activities and this year is no exception.’
‘As if I gave a monkey’s about all that…’
‘You should – one day it will be your company.’
I meditate a little before pulling out the sentence. ‘And what if I wanted to do something else?’
‘What would you like to do? Or rather… what else could you do, since you’ve done nothing for thirty-two years? ‘
It’s a completely valid point. I’m not even offended. I’m good for nothing and I’ll just have to try not to let the company go bankrupt. How, I’ve no idea.