As for right now, there’s nothing for it but to resign myself to participating in this reception.
‘All right. What time does the torment begin?’ I agree. Perhaps there’ll be some cougar there I can convince to show me her cave of wonders. I’ll be her pied piper.
‘Around eight o’clock. Don’t disappoint me.’
I spread my arms and smile at him. ‘Hey. You know I’ll make an entrance.’
*
As I knew it would be, the evening is deadly boring. I’m standing over by the buffet, with an overwhelming desire to get drunk. Too bad you can’t get drunk on alcohol-free cocktails. Bad alcohol-free cocktails, to be precise. Stifling yet another yawn, I throw the concoction behind a plant, which will surely wither before midnight. The hall is full. I see journalists, editors, directors, a couple of actors, and a few people who are big in the arts and fashion. There are even some faces I don’t know, men with beards and deadly serious expressions, like they’re meditating on who knows what transcendental truth. I’ve only just arrived and already I can’t wait for dinner to finish, so the torture will be over and we can all go home.
When I came in, I noticed an interesting woman who caught my eye and winked at me. I know her, her name is Antonia… also known as ‘the mouth of fire’ just between us friends. I’d like to find out why…
I turn around to locate her, perhaps I could have a private demonstration of her talents. I can’t seem to find her though. I guess someone else got in there first. My eyes come to rest on the crowd of people over by the entrance, and in particular on a man I could swear I’ve seen before: tall, in his forties, with bushy black hair and a substantial beard.
Wait, isn’t that…?
In the distance, a tall man in a truly unfortunate grey suit is waving. ‘Professor Costa! He made it!’
That’s who he is, one of the professors in my faculty, that stuffed shirt that Sara is in love with. I’m surprised by a sudden bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach, doubtless caused by that disgusting cocktail. Or maybe even by Sara. Thoughts of her plague me at every opportunity. In fact, it appears it has now escalated to the point of making me hallucinate, because as I look, it almost seems to me that I see her, wearing a black dress that looks halfway decent, and made up like an actual woman.
I rub my eyes in an attempt to banish the illusion: the only thing missing was having visions!
Rubbing doesn’t work, because the image remains, just a few meters away from me and, looking closer, I realise that it’s not an illusion at all: Sara is really here, dressed up to the nines. The dress highlights her figure for once, which of course is very different to my tastes, but I have to admit that she has chosen almost well. She is also wearing make-up and no glasses.
And as she doesn’t appear to be squinting like a mole, I can only assume she must be wearing contact lenses.
When I suggested them to her, she didn’t listen.
Now she is wearing them after all. For who? For this professor? Because she’s here with him, right? Why? And why does it bother me so much?
The plan, of course, I remember. Yes. I have to make her fall in love with me, right? To get her to pass my exam and then drop her, right? That’s why I’m so annoyed. The professor is an obstacle to my plan. God, and to think I was the one who offered to help her ensnare him! I never thought she could really do it. Sara is just not the type that men go for. At least I didn’t think she was…
Judging by how the pair of them are smiling at one another, it would seem that events have taken an undesirable turn. If this guy shags her, I can wave goodbye to that exam. I have to do it first. My loins come alive at the thought. No, I’m not well. I have a fever, a thirst for revenge, and it has some very peculiar symptoms. I don’t like her. So why do I suddenly feel so nervous?
‘I see you’re on form tonight,’ Antonia whispers in my ear, rubbing casually against me.
‘I always am, baby,’ I reply, slipping one arm around her slender waist. Her proximity, however, irritates me. Beyond belief.
Excusing myself, I detach myself from her and go out into the garden.
I need air.
‘Honey…’ She tries follow me, but I block her with a shake of my head. Antonia shrugs and returns to the party, looking for a new distraction. I take a deep breath and reflect. Why am I so pissed off? She’s just a stupid bet I made with myself, nothing more.
The sound of footsteps startles me, and I retreat into a dark corner to hide myself. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.
‘Professor, what a wonderful place.’
Shit, this is a conspiracy! What are they doing, following me?
‘I’m very excited, Dr. Doria. This is such an exclusive occasion! And I’m here representing the faculty and our research activity. I am so pleased that you were able to present my work.’
Even in the dark, I can see Sara’s expression change.
‘Professor, you see… I was wondering…’
What is she going to do now? Throw herself at him?
‘Yes?’ he encourages her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
I can’t bear to watch my plans ruined like this
‘Well, I was thinking… I’m glad I helped to write the article, but… since I wrote it… couldn’t you at least name me? As a reviewer, collaborator, I don’t know …’
What? That son of a… Sara wrote an article and he’s taking the credit? He’s even lazier than I am!
‘Doctor, I am grateful for the help you have given me and I assure you that you will be rewarded adequately. On another occasion, I mean.’
Here we go. Now she’s going to kick him. Because that’s what she does when she’s not happy and even in the dark I can tell that she is not.’
‘Sure. I understand,’ she replies instead. What? No kneeball?
The professor smiles at her, satisfied. ‘Good. Did you notice they have some actors here tonight?’
‘I know! It really is a wonderful evening and I’m very grateful to you for inviting me. Sometimes I think I spend too much time concentrating on studying and research. I hardly ever get the chance to do something like this.’
‘Semiotics is a subject that tends to isolate us somewhat from others, my dear. But don’t worry. I’m sure we will have occasion to deepen our… social interactions.’
He says it in a somewhat suggestive tone that I don’t like at all. Apparently he thinks he can ruin my perfect plan.
‘Professor Costa! Here you are, we’ve been looking all over. The editor of ‘The Traces of Man’ has arrived, and is asking to talk to you.’
I notice with relief that the Little Professor straightens up and walks away with scarcely a word of goodbye.
Sara is about to follow him, but I can’t resist.
‘Hey, finally a dress that does justice to those melons!’ I exclaim, emerging from the shadows.
Sara jumps and turns round, looking at me as if I were a freak of nature.
‘Let me get this straight, have you started following me now?’
‘Steady on, love. You’re not as important as you think you are. I would never dream of following you.’
She takes the hit with her usual indifference. ‘Ok. So? What are you doing here?’